A Whisper of Night

6.2 || MAJAEYRA ❄️

           

Majaeyra's mouth fell open. "No. Please - please don't tell me you were behind the kidnapping."

"We were," Tristaen said. "Think about it - the Lion Queen will have to open her borders for our refugees. If she doesn't..."

Jae's heart pounded. She could feel panic creeping in at the edges of her mind, panic she forced away. No, no, no. You can't afford to lose control. Calm down.

"The princess is barely fifteen," she said, unable to keep the hysteria from her voice. "And why in the world did you steal the queen's dragon egg, too?"

"Her age doesn't matter." Verradaen looked her in the eye, his arms crossed. "And we had nothing to do with the egg - it was probably an act of greed. But I propose this only as a last resort. Admitting to kidnapping Lleona's daughter would be worse than declaring war on her."

Jae closed her eyes. If it weren't for the disease, she thought, we wouldn't have to do this. Scorvald and Svanvald had never been enemies in the past, and truth be told, she could hardly blame Queen Lleona for refusing Svanvald's refugees.

"What's to say that the Lion Queen won't kill our men once she opens her borders to them?" she said weakly.

"We'll send guards with them," Tristaen said.

"Guards who'll most likely catch the disease along the way," Verradaen countered. "Majaeyra, listen to me. If we take our troops down and conquer Scorvald - a land that nobody in their right minds would want, believe me - we can use it as a quarantine for our infected."

"But how long will that take?" she said. "Half a year, at the least. Farwatch would be entirely infected by then...and we will catch it, too." Perhaps Verradaen was right. Perhaps we shouldn't have placed the camp right outside the palace. But where else could she have installed the sick?

"Then burn the camp," Verradaen said. " It'll be easy to stage an accident."

"No!" said Majaeyra, horrified. "Please, no - I've heard enough of this." She stood up, nearly losing her balance at the edge of the dais. "Go clean yourselves - we have an hour until we leave."

Tristaen gritted his teeth - he hated taking her commands - but they left all the same, Verradaen giving her one long look before exiting.

And at long last, the hall was quiet...mercifully quiet.

She leaned against the side of the throne, her head braced in her hand. Just another four hours, she thought, before I can break my fast. She'd eaten too much the night before, too much to deserve breakfast.

Excuses for skipping her meals were more than plentiful these days, with her petitioners and the camp of the sick at her door. She'd lost another five pounds in the last few days. When she'd weighed herself just twelve hours ago, she'd felt herself smile for the first time in a week. Her body, at least, was hers to govern. It was her victory when nothing else was.

Just another four hours, she reminded herself. Another four....

"Your Majesty?"

Her eyes flew open. Two of her handmaidens stood at the side doors, their eyes wide.

"Yes," she said. "Apologies. It's been a long night." She strode down the dais, each step sending a jolt to her head. "Please prepare my white gown - the plain one."

"Yes, at once," said one of them. "Would you like any food?"

"No," she said sharply. "You are dismissed."