Libuše was careful in her approach. She made sure to emphasis the weather, she made sure to speak in generic words, she made sure to keep talking until there wasn't room for misinterpretation. She had to build it up until-
"Teta," Libuše called, catching up with her sister in the grand halls of their castle. "Teta, I need a favour from you."
Teta was the middle child, pretty and fair with long dark hair much like Libuše and much like their mother, Niva. She was a magician, a priestess, someone who heard the whispers of the Gods. She was stunning, truly.
"A favour?" Teta echoed, tilting her head in a regal way that made Libuše feel small again. "Which kind of favour?"
"The lying kind," Libuše said, steeling her voice. "I need you to tell the people that the Gods have foretold a prophet."
"A prophet?"
"A prophet," Libuše confirmed. "Don't specify who, but just say that they told you one would arrive."
"I can't forge the word of the Gods. They'll be angered," Teta said, shrugging. "I'm sorry, Libuše, but it can't be done."
"Please, sister," she begged, not above clasping her hands together and planting herself in front of the older girl. "Please, I promise the Gods won't be angry. They'll be impressed - they'll be glad. I'm sure they want this as surely as I do, or they wouldn't have allowed the thought in my head."
Teta let her shoulders sag.
"What are you planning, Libuše," she said.
"I am planning the future of our kingdom," she said. "I promise we will live a grand and unforgettable life."
Teta sighed. "Fine," she said. "But if the Gods strike me dead, I'm blaming you."
YOU ARE READING
The Queen and her Ploughman
Historical FictionLibuse is the youngest sister of three, and the people's favourite. She makes a fair ruler, a kind judge, and loves her people and country more than anything else. Except for, maybe, the ploughman from out of town, Premsyl. But Libuse is clever, tr...
