The Chronicles Of The Council #1: The Sun's Tears

Chapter 20: Aebbé - Rust

"Beneath the rust and grime which dulls the shine of our weathered hearts, joy patiently waits to be rediscovered." – John Mark Green

I enter a bustle of gossip after the guards announce me at the Queen's hall. I scan the room. I don't immediately see a seat, but then I see a hidden place in the windowsill. It will be difficult to get there, and it would cost me some great trouble and conversation getting there, but then I would be hidden after that. As a bonus, I would be able to look out of the window occasionally.

The Queen's Hall is not huge, but it looks even more cramped due to the number of ladies and objects stuffed into the room. Sofas and dresses, tables with sweets and teas, a harp and piano, and even an easel with an unfinished painting are scattered into every available space. I quickly estimate that the room is filled with a cackle of about thirty ladies. I recognise all but two of the faces.

I first go to Claira and take a deep bow: "Your majesty, it is an honour to be in your court."

She greets me and fusses on about how she hasn't seen enough of me since my return. After showering her with endless nods and halfhearted agreements I am able to trek across the room and make my way to the window.

The first face I do not know is that of a friendly redhead with short-cropped hair seated next to a space in the windowsill I am aiming at. She has a round face, with flushed cheeks, and an apple-shaped body with short, stubby arms. She is dressed in a cerise dress that does not compliment her hair nor the colour of her cheeks. She shuffles out of her seat as I approach, and take a deep bow.

"Princess Aebbé, daughter of Ardam, I have never had the pleasure of meeting you. I am Ema, Duchess of Evegren. I married the Duke of Evegren. I was born to Alarduric Vaubadon, son of Franco of the family Vaubadon, brother to your father."

"Oh, you are my cousin Ema. Your father is my cousin, so that makes you my sort-of cousin - family either way," I say enthusiastically.

"Indeed, though it is sad that we have never met."

I tend to forget that Father had six brothers and that most of his brothers have more than a handful of children, and dozens of grandchildren. By having an unusually large family my father was able to offer allegiances by marrying of all his nieces and nephews and their children. I think De Berchelai's younger sister even married into Vaubadon.

"Might I please sit next to you?"

"Oh, ja, of course!"

Most of the ladies have forgotten me and were back to their gossips, but one lady was still staring at me. She has dark brown hair, with milky skin, and red lips. Her dress is the most extravagant in the room. Her dark eyes were cold, calculating and filled with hate.

I stare at her. I have never seen this woman before, yet I know her hate is directed at me.A blink later her eyes have locked with mine. 

I don't know how long the staring would have lasted had someone not asked her something that necessitated her to turn away and answer.

"Duchess, who is that woman over there with the magnificent dress?"

"Pfft, please just call me Ema, your highness."

"Please also call me only by my name, Aebbé."

"That is lady Korinna."

Something about the way she said lady stimulates my curiosity.

"She is a lady?"

"Oh yes, she is the royal consort."

Her hand moves to her mouth: "I apologise, your Highness. I did not seek to besmirch the good name of our King."