Queensmen

Chapter 21

~People To Feed~

"My Lady, are you sure there isn't a problem?" Faeradaigh asked for what had to have been the twelfth time. He rubbed the tip of one finger against the tip of his thumb then pursed his lips.

The guard still stood beside him, armored in a black breastplate with the white links of his chainmail spilling out of its side. It was a minimalist form of protection at best, only protecting what laid behind his ribs and nothing else, but the man seemed confident in his ability to protect himself. He kept his back erect with the fingers of his left hand wrapped tightly around the shaft of a spear made of glistening red metal. It towered over him, a distance of two heads in fact.

"I am quite sure, milord," Oris repeated, able to keep up a genteel manner now that her mood uplifted by her conversation with Mikeal.

She eyed the wicked point of the spear, noting that if it was covered with dried blood at the moment she wouldn't even know. "It still feels unnecessary to bother this guard to watch me. We have plenty soldiers," that I have never laid my eyes on, "and enough servants to keep me company."

"I would feel safer this way, My Lady." Faeradaigh continued to insist, his eyes roving the interior of the carriage as though the action who eliminate all possible threats to her safety.

"It may be easier if you think of it as protection for the goods you are carrying," he nodded subtly towards the sacks as though he was under the scrutiny of a thousand pair of eyes.

The guard offered a crisp salute, his lips still pressed into a thin line. He wore no helmet so the scorn in his eyes was clear to see. He obviously felt that it was beneath him to guard a nameless woman who was unlikely to win the Emperor's favor, much less even pass the selection.

"Milord," Oris forced a giggle out of her throat, knowing the separate effects it would have on the men. As expected, the guard's scowl worsened while Faeradaigh looked simply charmed.

"I had only been laughing to myself," beneath the veil she pressed her fingers to her lips like the female royals she had once tried to emulate before her coronation, "and I got carried away. I apologize, I really do, for alarming you."

"Ah," Faeradaigh chuckled then nodded like he had understood something, "it is not good for a lady to be trapped in a carriage without a thing to do. I will have the servants arrange something, your maids can accompany you."

"That would be wonderful, milord." Oris forced her smile to widen despite the men not being able to clearly see her face. She would have to get used to faking smiles if she ever planned on taking off the veil.

"Faeradaigh, my Lady," he stressed. "I have told you many times."

Then, as if a film had been cleared from his vision, he peered into the carriage again. "Where are they?"

"Where are who, milord?"

"Maids, My Lady."

"Maids?" Oris furrowed her brows and pretended to think. It was all she could do to stall the inevitable.

"Yes," Faeradaigh said. "Your maids, where have they gone to."

"Oh. Those maids." Oris laughed and laughed, until the eunuch began to look disconcerted. "They're off somewhere. Running errands and the likes. . ." she trailed off, not daring to go into further detail.

"They left you alone," he gasped, his horror evident. "My Lady, that is highly improper!"

"Yes, yes," she bobbed her head as though she took his chastisement to heart. This time around she truly had been too careless, but she had no choice. "I shall have them punished when they return. But you cannot really blame them, boredom is not good for the productivity of the help. And I did give them permission."