She paced the halls like a wandering ghost. There was nothing to do, it seemed… All the bustle and rush from the party was over. The castle was as silent as it had been in the dark hours of the morning after her parents were slain. She found it difficult to take peace from the silence. The stillness served only to further unsettle her.
As she passed a door, a voice drifted out from the room beyond.
“...from Victoria’s jewelry box,” the maid whispered. “One of the big necklaces, with the red gems.”
“You can’t be serious,” the other gasped, then asked, “Did she tell anyone it was missing?”
Elodie inched closer to the door and peered inside, watching the shadows of the pair of maids as they stood with their brooms.
“Not yet,” she explained. “He said he was going to bring it up to Ms. Halls this afternoon.”
“That’s probably what I’d do,” the other maid agreed. “Mr. Farthing’s more likely to blame it on him than report it to the Ministers…”
“The new Queen won’t be happy to hear about this,” the second maid breathed, adjusting a stack of books on the table beside her. “I suppose we should expect our rooms to be mucked up from the guards doing their awful searches.”
Elodie took a step back, blinking. Had she heard that correctly? One of her mother’s necklaces was stolen?
She rushed off down the hallway and up the nearest flight of stairs, passing a pair of male servants moving a chest of drawers down from the upper floors. Down the hall, ‘round the corner, past the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the vineyards and into the wing that had once belonged solely to her mother.
She pushed open the door to her mother’s dressing room, startling a young maid dusting a pair of matching paintings of Elodie and Amayella that had been painted before she’d ever really met her little sister.
“Your Highness!” She yelped. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost! Are you alright?”
Instinctively, Elodie glanced to her left, where her mother’s ancient vanity sat, undisturbed from its last use the night before the attack. She gritted her teeth.
Had her mother been there, before she’d looked? She had the distinct feeling that the spirit was infuriated with her. How dare she allow her mother’s things to be taken?
She hurried over to the vanity and pulled open the bottom drawers, taking out the jewelry box and placing it on the tabletop, opening it.
All the necklaces were evenly and carefully arranged along a plush pillow, but there was an empty space, and she knew the necklace that had once taken it.
She roared and turned on the young maid, watching her with wide doe-like eyes from the corner.
“Get Bishop!” She shouted. “Go! Now!”
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202Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzwypn11wt4
Bishop watched as Elodie paced the room in an uncontrollable fury, ranting and raving in a loud, harsh voice about this and that and thievery, ungratefulness, selfishness, dishonesty, and everything else that came to her mind.
She’d been pacing and ranting for nearly an hour when finally the door opened a crack, and a small voice announced that Lane had arrived. The head of the Guard stepped into the room, wide-eyed, and was first greeted by Bishop, who was unwaveringly calm.
“Good day, Lane. I hope you’re having a nice morning,” Bishop offered, almost apologetically. “I’m terribly sorry if you had to postpone any meetings to answer the summons.”
Lane shook his head, gazing hesitantly across the room at Elodie, who glared daggers at him, suddenly still. She stood stone-still, a statue, with her arms crossed, her face flushed with anger.
“How, pray tell,” she began, her voice icy. “Under the watch of your guard, did a greedy, dirty thief make off with my mother’s prized jewelry?”
“Something was stolen?” He asked, stunned.
She snarled, an animalistic sound, a completely wordless response, and turned her back, going back to pacing. She continued ranting, now beneath her breath.
“Yes,” Bishop answered, tracking her path around the room as she stomped back and forth. “A necklace, from Queen Victoria’s jewelry box. One of the more irreplaceable ones, according to Her Majesty.”
“They’re all irreplaceable!” She snapped, then paused, and grunted. “But, yes… This one, in particular… would be very difficult to recreate. The gems are incredibly rare.”
“I see,” Lane replied. “I’ll get my men together and have them begin searching.”
“I want it and the thief found by tonight or it’ll be your head on the block!” Elodie growled.
“Now, now,” Bishop said, holding up a hand. “Let’s not go that far. Lane will do the best he can, as will the men. You have more important business to attend to today.”
“What could possibly be more important than finding my mother’s necklace?” Elodie asked, baring her teeth.
Lane took the opportunity to bow and exit without another word, almost stumbling over his own feet on his way out.
“Well,” Bishop began, taking her shoulders with warm hands, and smoothing down her sleeves. “You’ll be giving your first address this evening.”
Elodie froze, grimacing. “Ah. Yes. That…”
“Yes. Have you finished it?”
“I think so,” she muttered, taking the slip of parchment from a pocket in her skirts. “Faustic was helping me with it, but he kept annoying me, wanting to change everything…”
“Let me see,” he said gently, offering his hand. She placed the piece of paper into his palm and watched him read it over. After a minute or two, he looked up from the paper and smiled.
“I think it’s perfect, dear,” he soothed. “Just what the people need to hear from their Queen in their time of uncertainty.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, but his smile didn’t waver. She took the paper back and looked it over, then slipped it back into her pocket.
“Thank you,” she breathed. “I didn’t know if it was any good at all, after what Faustic told me.”
Bishop rolled his eyes, taking one of her hands into his. “Weren’t you the one who told me that Faustic was a… What was it? A ‘witless old fool’?”
Elodie laughed, squeezing his hand. She received one in return, and then withdrew, folding her hands over one another and turning away, pursing her lips. The missing jewelry hung heavy on her mind, the feeling of wispy, undefined wrath was thick in the air.
“What’s wrong, dear? I was trying to cheer you up,” Bishop coaxed.
“I’m…” She sighed. “I’m afraid my mother won’t ever forgive me if her necklace isn’t found.”
“It’ll be found,” he said simply. “The thief can’t have gotten far since this morning.”
“You’re sure?” She asked, frowning down at her shoes, barely visible over the hem of her long skirt.
She’s terribly angry at me…
“Everything will be okay by tonight,” he assured her. “I’m sure.”
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202Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvagcYGIORy
The afternoon passed in agonizingly slow minutes, the ticking of the clock above Bishop’s desk slowly driving her insane. Finally, he stood, and she followed him upstairs and down the halls to a room where a balcony had been built above the castle square, facing the city center.
The room was uncharacteristically small and bare in comparison to most of the castle, the only decoration an ornate, heavy wool curtain separating the room down the middle.
Elodie, pacing quickly in a semi-circle, hardly noticed at all. She went through the speech she’d written in her head, over and over, revising and editing even now. Faustic had given her so much critique, and even though she’d had most of the day, she’d had little focus to adjust anything how she wanted to. She wondered if what she planned to say would make any difference at all to the people gathering below.
She could hear them, talking and shouting to each other, periodically falling silent as a patrol of guards circled the crowd and quieted them.
She turned and stared at Bishop.
“It’s too late to back out, isn’t it?” She asked, pleading in her voice.
He smiled, and answered with only a slow nod.
“Dammit all,” she breathed, then turned and faced the curtain. “Fine. I’m ready.”
Bishop took up the space to her right and nodded, squaring his shoulders. “You first, then.”
Gritting her teeth, she swept the curtain aside and stepped out into the warm and waning sunlight, into view of the crowd below.
There came a roar, like a gust of wind in her ears, as if the enthusiastic cheers of the people below could sweep her hair aside and blow back the curtain she’d stepped from.
She clasped one hand onto the railing, and reached down to wrap the other tightly around Bishop’s wrist. In the loudest, most authoritative voice she could muster, she began;
“People of Evermore!
I stand before you today, honored to address you as your new Queen. The weight of the crown is not lost on me, and I understand the responsibility that comes with wearing it. A responsibility to you, to rule with conviction, and to ensure the prosperity of our people.
These are uncertain times, challenging times. Times of change. It is imperative that we look toward the future, that we forge a path, united and resolute. My promise to you is this; From this day forward, I will take decisive action to secure and protect our prosperous future.
Let it be known to you all that challenges demand sacrifice. I do not take these sacrifices lightly. Tough decisions lie ahead, but they will be made with the utmost consideration for the common good.
Effective immediately, I decree enhanced measures to protect our borders and burgeon our military. Our sovereignty and security must be absolute. Economic policies concerning our neighboring city-states will be under review in the coming weeks and months to aid in these efforts. From here on, there will be increased guard patrols in all parts of the city, as well as a strictly enforced curfew.
These changes serve not to restrict your liberties or cause difficulties in your daily lives. In time, you will see that they serve only to ensure the tranquility and safety of each and every one of our people.
As we march ahead into a prosperous future, I ask for your trust and understanding. Mine is a vision of strength, resilience, and growth. Let us unite, and emerge victorious in our pursuit of a brighter tomorrow.
Long Live Evermore!”
The declaration hung in the air, ponderous and burdensome, for an agonizing few moments.
And then, it was swallowed by a sudden uproarious applause, a chorus of cheering and whooping and hollering. Satisfied, she bowed, and turned to go inside.
Her skin was buzzing, her heart racing in her ears. It felt suddenly as if her dress were squeezing her lungs too tight, and her hands were too big and clumsy to work the knob on the door.
Bishop stepped in front of her and took her by the shoulders, staring pointedly into her eyes. He took an exaggeratedly deep breath, making an ‘o’ as he breathed out slowly.
“That was perfect,” he soothed her. “You did very well.”
She followed his breathing, feeling the energy begin to dissipate from her veins, slowly. He smiled at her, and she mirrored it back to him.
“That wasn’t so hard…” She said, almost to herself.
“They seemed very happy,” he commented. “I mean, there was a bit of worried glancing when you mentioned the curfew, but you got them back with all that talk about growth and prosperity. And, of course, ‘Long live Evermore’ never fails.”
She laughed, resting her forehead against his chest and enjoying the warm embrace he gave her. It had been hard, probably more difficult than she really wanted to admit to herself or to him. She wondered if being Queen would ever come easily to her. Her mother had made it look so natural.
“Goodness, Bishop,” she sighed. “I’m so tired.”
“I understand. It’s been a long day.”
She slowly closed her eyes. “It does feel like it’s been much longer than normal, doesn’t it?”
“Well, you’ve been worrying yourself to death all day,” he reminded her, taking her by the hand and reaching back to open the door into the hall. He led the way back towards his office.
“But it’s alright,” he continued. “How about a little ride through the vineyard?”
She lit up like a spark, grinning, and pulled open the door, rushing down the hall. Her heels made a click-clack sound on the uncarpeted floor. Elsewhere, there was always a rug underneath her, but this area of the castle hardly saw traffic. She descended a staircase and burst into her bedroom with a flurry of excitement, which was almost instantly dampened when greeted by the flushed, angry face of her younger sister.
“It’s about time,” Amayella snapped.
“What in God’s name do you want, now?” Elodie bit back. “I’ve been busy.”
“Yes, of course,” the eleven-year-old began, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “All those important ‘Queenly’ things you must be doing…”
“Yes, actually,” she said, matter-of-factly. “I just came down from making my first decree.”
“I know,” Ama grumbled. “And what a very powerful speech it was.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Elodie replied, narrowing her eyes.
It was at that moment that Bishop appeared in the doorway, hands tucked away in his sleeves. He paused there at the threshold, seemingly surprised to see Amayella in the room, but his face gave nothing away. The emotion on his face was something that Elodie couldn’t quite recognize.
“Ah, Princess,” he said, his voice as unrecognizable as his expression. “What a surprise.”
“Bishop Callex,” Amayella replied, her voice laced with icy venom. “I was just talking to my sister. Privately.”
“Anything you’d like to say to me, you can say in front of Bishop,” Elodie snapped.
“Thank you, your Highness,” Bishop said, gracefully crossing the room. He passed Elodie and pulled open her closet, stepping inside. He withdrew a handful of thin cotton dresses, made for getting dirty and much more comfortable than the poofy, elaborate gown she’d been put in for her first official appearance. He held them up, two in each hand, for her to pick.
“Would you like to go riding with us?” Bishop asked. “I think one of these would fit you, Princess.”
Amayella grunted, disgusted. She turned on her heel and stormed out, unwilling to spend even another moment in the same room as Bishop.
“We’re not done talking!” She called back as her voice vanished around a corner.
“I think we are,” Elodie growled under her breath. She reached out and pinched the skirt of one of the dresses Bishop was holding for her. He put the other three back, and handed it over.
“I’ll wait just outside,” he said. “Let me know when you’re done, I’ll help you with your boots.”
“Thank you, Bishop,” she muttered, tired from the brief exchange with Amayella. “It’ll be nice to get out on Sugar again. It's been too long."202Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIH4OCfTTed
"Agreed."202Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVPEmKnxrNW
