Donkeyskin - ON HOLD

Of Loss

*Of Loss*

        In the summer of Elodie's eleventh year the queen fell ill. The court fell into a deep depression at the thought of losing their beloved queen, and, of course, the king barricaded himself in his office, pacing back and forth for hours, when his wife refused to see him.

        In the course of it all, Elodie was forgotten, and when the queen took a turn for the worse, court officials neglected to inform her. She kept at her regular schedule, studying in the mornings, music lessons in the afternoon, and ballet lessons in the evenings, often stretching into the night.

        When she did learn of the severity of her mother's illness Elodie couldn't bring herself to feel anything. She'd never been able to imagine the court without its queen.

        The queen, for her part, had shut herself up in her chambers, refusing point blank to be seen by anyone, even her own handmaiden, in her weakened state. Her beauty was so renowned she was sure that the world would think less of her if they saw what she'd become.

        The only person she allowed to see her was her husband, her love. The king, finally permitted to stay by her side, never left her chambers, and the ministers, unaccustomed to doing the tasks their monarchs had done together for years, found they needed someone royal to sign important papers, and finally realized they had a princess, who knew nothing of what was happening with her own family.

        They sought out the princess, came to her nursery, were told by her Nurse that she was at her ballet lessons, made their way to the ballroom, only to find she'd left already. Thoroughly annoyed, the ministers traipsed back up to the nursery in the highest tower, only to be told the princess had gone down to the library.

        Completely out of patience with the princess, they moved her chambers to the ground floor, into a little set of rooms between the ballroom and the library, opening onto the gardens, just big enough for Elodie, Adrienne, and the Nurse.

        When Elodie took in her new chambers-five large, sumptuously furnished rooms-and learned she was to occupy them all on her own she ordered the ministers to have them redone: One was to be converted into a bedchamber for Adrienne, another for the Nurse. A third was to be made into a sort of personal library. Elodie ordered that the ridiculous pink hangings on the dining room walls were to be taken down, and two chairs were to be added to the single seat at the table.

        The smallest chamber was her favorite, a small room with a back door onto the gardens, with unadorned stone walls and wide windows. This room, she decided would be her bedchamber. Somewhat flustered, the ministers did as she asked, happy as long as they had someone to sign their charters and decrees.

        Elodie, however, was just glad to have that much more time to spend on her dancing and music, and the poor ministers found themselves taking second fiddle to the princess's pastimes.

        Finally, the queen managed to talk her husband into spending an hour away from her bedside each day, to deal with the politics of the kingdom. The king consented, only to please his queen, so things got done, but at a much slower pace than before.

        Months passed, autumn came, hot and dry, and the queen seemed to improve. For the first time since the onset of her illness she appeared in public.

        Her once-lustrous black hair was riddled with silver, her pale skin hugged her frame so tightly her veins seemed to bulge, blue and stark. Her grey eyes were sunken, but full of intelligence and love for her people, as they'd always been.