Rowena hadn’t many friends growing up. She never thought to pursue such things, because she knew it would only bring pain to those she would eventually leave behind. But no girl in her village could have understood that, and certainly no boy. Her elder cousin, Antelope who had once been Anna, had been in her position only three cycles before, but had not been chosen for her cycle’s offering, so met her trials and became a beast instead. Ante told Rowena that miracles do happen, like they had for her. The Spice King might show Rowena favor and give the village a family with a red haired girl of her same birth cycle.
But Rowena doubted such a thing. She had never done anything to deserve such favor from her god. Miracles happen, she told Antelope, but they just didn’t happen to her.
Certainly all the elder beasts knew the truth of her position.
Wolf knew.
When Rowena was young, she would pick and cut wild roses for her mother, Coyote. Coyote made teas and balms and dyes with the dried flowers. Rowena’s father, Elk, would use his mate’s dyes to make concentrated inks. The inks would go to Owl and her Truth Painters, who marked their history on the inside of a sacred cave in the village. The inks would also go to the shaman, Wolf, who would send the inks away to some other village. Those beasts he sent with the ink never returned.
When Rowena was a little older than thirteen, her mother told her to start working for Wolf. The shaman needed someone to sweep his tent and gather his wood. Rowena hated this work because Wolf made her feel uncomfortable, but she worked quickly so that she could be dismissed quickly. Wolf always stared at her, studied her work, and found her wanting. Still, after she was through, he always told her to return again the next day, and that he looked forward to critiquing her yet again.
Yearly cycles went by like this. Wolf didn’t trust her with anything of importance, but he did eventually send her on errands and the other villagers knew of her duties and thought she was honored. Rowena was Wolf’s shadow for nearly four cycles. In secret, she taught herself to read the spineless book in his tent. She learned how he conducted his rites. She even thought that, if Antelope was right about miracles, and Fox was clever enough to blind herself, and Owl was wise enough to cut off all her hair in order to look unpleasant… Perhaps Rowena too could avoid the call of her offering and eventually become a shaman of The Spice King.
But deep down, she knew that hope was not a thing for beasts.
Beasts know that only survival matters in the grand scheme.
She was Wolf’s shadow for a few cycles, then the target of all his hate, and then she was dead… for a while.
So, Antelope was right about one thing: miracles do happen.
And sometimes those miracles are accidents.
And sometimes those miracles are even coincidences.
Rowena was not certain why Gaylord had chosen her over the previous sixteen cycles of maidens thrown off the mountain, but she had a feeling that the truth was close at hand, and that she was finally ready to receive it. Because she had only been allowed to be nothing for her whole life, and now she was being ushered towards greatness. She would not let hesitation or uncertainly cloud her dedication. Once, she had been resigned to die, but now she was resigned to make damn sure that those around her thrived.
Despite this mindset, however, she didn’t know the first thing about medicine, and when she got The Spice King back to their suites, she sent for Gaylord out of necessity. No one else but the star might have known how to go about treating divines, and Rowena didn’t want to start a panic in the people of the star palace so soon after their god’s renewal.
Gaylord actually laughed when she saw The King tucked into bed. Her crown of oak leaves and acorns were green and bright. She gave Rowena a look full of affection and said, “You did the right thing, Red. He’s a man now. He needs to eat and sleep. Once he wakes up, get some food in him. He’ll probably be cranky. Give him the news, but go easy on him. He’s spent his whole lives being invincible. He’ll just have to get used to it.”
Rowena couldn’t hide the guilt from her face as she frowned. “You don’t think I should give him back his power for his health?”
Gaylord gave her a teasing smile. “I think he could do with a few more lessons. But I’ll let you be the judge.”
“Could he die?”
“He could… but he has you.” Gaylord kissed her on the cheek and squeezed her shoulder and said, “If he calls you Mortal, just punch him in the gut. This body I made for you isn’t so breakable. It was meant to be a vessel for your power. And that same power is what got him out of the Deadwood. Don’t give up so easily. If he’s not stupid, he’ll survive, just like anything else.”
“But I will eventually have to give him his power, won’t I? When the turn of the cycle comes and he gorges himself and dies?”
“That’s a year,” Gaylord said dismissively. “What terrible things could happen in a year that we wouldn’t be able to prepare for?” Then she gave Rowena a wink and went to leave. Over her shoulder, she called a reminder, “Soup would be best!”
“And his wounds?!”
“A little yarrow, some clean bandages, and a lot of opium,” Gaylord suggested, but then the trail of her dress disappeared out the door and Rowena was left with The Spice King’s unconscious form and Morgan, staring at her from the other side of the bed for directions.
“Do you know how to treat wounds, Morgan?” she asked.
“I do, Highness.” The crow bowed her head.
Rowena let out a breath. “There’s that at least.” Then she said, “This marks the end of my third day here, Morgan… and Gaylord thinks nothing too out of sorts can happen in a whole cycle!” When Morgan only smiled at her sympathetically, the girl asked, “What do you think?”
“I think we have a guest at the door,” her handmaiden said. After her queen nodded in assent, the lady crow went to the door and opened it slightly. “Can I help you, Meister Ouroboros?”
“I am here to ssssee My King.”
“Your King is indisposed I’m afraid.”
“Neverthelesssss.”
“Let him in, Morgan,” Rowena called. She hadn’t expected the giant snake to speak, but then there were quite a lot of things she hadn’t expected to be happening lately that were, so. The snake slithered passed the lady crow and approached the queen before taking the shape of a man. Rowena managed to keep her surprise off her face, but then she gave him a confused expression and asked, “Isn’t it faster for you to walk on two legs, Ouro?”
“You haven’t seen me in a hurry, My Queen,” he said, affecting a charming smirk. He was a dashing sort of creature. He could have been a little younger than her father, with hair as dark as his scales, and eyes as blue as ice. He was wearing no livery or mark of station. His dark leather armor was hunter’s hide, maybe stitched from the tanned fur of a black bear. Despite his status as God’s Second, his humanoid appearance was unassuming. But Rowena knew, in his snake shape, he was himself a beast of legend. “Call me Tamlyn,” he said. “How is your husband?”
“Safe, now,” Rowena said. “He seemed to be under the impression that he didn’t need to sleep or eat. For the last two days he’s been running on whatever energy he had coming out of The Womb. Then he chose to kill a couple troublemakers in his Garden… absent a certain snake.”
Tamlyn managed to look regretful. He reached up and fiddled with the tiny black ponytail at the nape of his neck. The snake in Man’s flesh gave the lady crow in their company a pointed look as he said, “That is in part why I return to My King’s side. But I also wanted to speak with you.” Before Rowena could reply, he gestured dismissively and said, “But that can wait. It is late.” He hesitated a moment more before he said, “Tell him I’m sorry. I had noticed his weakness, but said nothing. I feel responsible.”
“You could,” Rowena said simply, but then she smiled and said, “But I certainly hadn’t expected him to be like this, so how can I hold you to such a standard?” She met his strange serpent’s eyes and said, “There are other rooms in the suite. You’re welcome to any one of them if you like.”
“No, I never stay in the royal suites.”
“Why not?”
“I suppose… because I’ve never been asked.” Then he seemed to decide something and motioned at Morgan. “You’ll help me set up a room, Bird?”
“Only if you do not call me Bird, Snake.” She sashayed by him and motioned for him to follow her.
“We’ll address things in the morning,” Tamlyn insisted to Rowena before he turned after the lady crow. “So, Beautiful,” the girl heard the snake say to her handmaiden, “You take that shape often?”
“As often as you choose to take the ugly shape you are wearing.”
“Ooch. You prefer Ouroboros then?”
“I prefer you be quiet and help me fix the fitted sheet.”
“That… I can do.”
Morgan soon returned, dousing the living lanterns on her way back to the master bedroom. When she returned to Rowena and present company, she cupped her hands around the wall sconce near the door and the glowing flower closed its petals, dimming its light pleasantly. Morgan said, “Cero will bring us water, herbs, and tools.”
“That’s good,” Rowena said, then she gave her handmaiden room to do her work. “If you need another pair of hands…”
Morgan smiled. “I will when it comes to removing those thorns.”
The queen swallowed noisily, then cleared her throat and nodded.
Morgan cocked her head to the side as she took the seat next to The King’s bedside. She said, “I am well aware that God and His second don’t trust my kind, but only because we come from Cairne Cora’s flock. I know it’s not a personal stigma.”
“Why does Cairne Cora bear such a reputation?” Rowena wondered.
“Because she and those like her are creatures of Winter. While The King and demifolk weaken, she grows stronger… You know, Spring hasn’t come like this for eighteen cycles. She is weak now, as are those under her. But The King and all his constituents are stronger than ever before. I suppose…” Morgan went quiet for a moment’s contemplation before she said, “I suppose folk are being unkind because Cairne Cora was a cruel beast before this Spring, and now this is the season of their revenge.”
“The season of their revenge, huh?” The girl mulled that over before she said, “Seems a bit melodramatic.”
“Welcome to the palace of The Spice King,” Morgan said tiredly. “Cora and hers are crafty, clever beasts. She may be a challenger in your court, Queen Rowena, but I’ve seen into her hearts of hearts, as have all in her murder. She knows that Order is not possible in a place built by Chaos, but that doesn’t mean she shouldn’t hope to change things.”
“And what things does she want changed?”
“Well, for starters, she doesn’t want to be bound to The Spice King’s cycle.”
“So she’s a rebel, like Jarl Toor.”
“No!” Morgan said, aggrieved, but then her face relaxed and she said, “Forgive me, Queen. I forget you’ve only just arrived… Jarl Toor wants to destroy the gods so that everything will be free, but Cairn Cora knows that’s not possible. She wants to break the bond, but she doesn’t want to destroy The Spice King. He is as necessary to the world as air or water. Without the gods, the world would crumble away. They are the powers that bind it all together.”
“So how does she plan to unbind something without unbinding everything?” Rowena asked, growing frustrated with the conversation as it turned more and more blasphemous, and growing frustrated with herself for feeling that way. “Isn’t it so that when you pull on a tiny, loose thread the whole garment comes undone?”
“Yes, I suppose,” Morgan said thoughtfully, “That is, if the fabric of the world had only been woven by one weaver.” Then she gave the girl a small smile as a knock came at the door. “That will be Cero.”
But it wasn’t Cero. It was Leagh Larus. He had a helmet tucked under his arm. There was a serious set to his face that put Rowena on edge. “I’d like to ask an audience with the queen, Handmaiden.”
Rowena granted him his request and in the common area of the suite, the goblin took a knee before her and said, “I put a guard detail on Jarl Toor. We found their bodies discarded near the entrance to the King’s Gardens. It’s… It’s because we did nothing that this happened.”
“That what happened?” Rowena asked. She thought she had been discrete, but it appeared that someone else knew of The King’s condition. She just had to find out who and assuage their worries.
Larus pressed his lips together and looked away. “The King was accosted by a couple dissidents led by the jarl. He smote them, as he had a right, but that attack should never have happened! We saw him retire to tend to your needs, Bastard Queen, but I felt it was only decent of me to come and apologize to his mate. Forgive me, Queen.”
He only knows about the fight. She felt relieved and even flattered that Larus thought so much of her. She bade him to rise and said, “I’ll discuss this with the breith tomorrow. I need to know what laws we might call on to do something about Toor. I know we can’t punish him without due course. After all, no one witnessed Toor sick those miscrients on The Spice King, save the king himself.”
“Well--” Larus stopped himself, then continued sheepishly, “Well, there were witnesses, but now they’re dead… What about Ouroboros? Did he witness the jarl threatening his king?”
“I think he left before the fight broke out, but maybe he saw as much. Do you think his word carries weight amongst the dissenters?”
Larus sighed as he got to his feet. “No, I suppose his word is as good as The King’s in this case. We need more allies before making a move on him, for sure…” He rubbed the back of his shiny indigo scalp and then said, “Consulting Fionn would be best I think, but remember his bias. He wants the jarl’s head on a pike more than anyone in Gaylord’s bones, but he’ll never slake his revenge if he just makes things worse by making Toor a martyr, y’know?”
“I understand. Thank you for your support, Leagh Larus. And thank you for the use of a queensguard.” Rowena bowed slightly and the goblin turned a bit purple in the cheeks, flushed with bashful pride.
“Nothing to it, Your Unbeastliness. I’ll be doubling the Kingsguard. Maybe then Toor will think twice about--”
“That won’t be necessary,” Rowena said suddenly, cutting him off. “We want to draw out Toor. I think doubling the guard would only tell him that we’re worried about him. I think a business as usual policy is the best position we can take right now. He’s a clever beast. We need to fight him on our own terms. Not his.”
Leagh Larus beamed at her and bowed. “As expected from our savior. Your wisdom actually exceeds your beauty, Maiden of the North Star.” With that, he gave Morgan a sly wink, then took his leave to prepare for the next day’s duties.
“Does anyone in the palace ever sleep?” Rowena mumbled.
Morgan only chuckled, but before they could both retire once more to the master bedroom, another knock came and this time it was Cero with the medical supplies. Cero helped them arrange things in the common area before he turned to Rowena with a frown of confusion and asked, “Where did the lady crow say you were injured again, Frue?”
Rowena gave her handmaiden a startled look, but then she cleared her throat and said to Cero, “It’s maiden business, Cero.”
He made a beeline for the door as he said, “Oh! Right, right. I didn’t mean to presume, Frue. Well then, goodnight and I hope the swelling goes down! Please let me know if there’s anything else! Morgan.”
After the lady crow bowed her salutations, Rowena looked over at her, eyes narrowed. “What kind of swelling am I seemingly suffering from?”
“I didn’t specify,” Morgan said with a teasing smile.
“Your discretion is commendable at least.”
“Of course, My Queen.”
They brought the tools they needed into the bedroom and Rowena pushed in a tea trolly ladened with a bowl of hot water and several stacks of towels. As Morgan got to work stripping their sovereign down to his skin, Rowena prepared the salves and then separated some of the larger bandages for use in packing.
They worked in reverent silence for the most part, with the quiet only being broken by Morgan’s quiet instructions and directions. They pulled and collected nearly fifty crescent-shaped thorns together. There were only a half dozen or so lacerations that looked like trouble, but his bruising and his broken ribs would take time to heal and set.
When all was said and done, the pair were covered in a variety of colors and smells. Morgan begged dismissal to go ready her own room for rest and Rowena granted it without a thought, too exhausted herself to task her handmaiden with anything that might have kept herself from bed out of solidarity. As it stood in her mind, Morgan had done more than enough required of her station, and even mourned that she had asked so much of the lady crow in only her first day of service. She even hoped, vainly, that Morgan wouldn’t think any less of her if she called on her to perform such things in the future.
Rowena, self-conscious despite everything, decided to get dressed in one of the partitioned rooms off the master suite, doing her best to clean the blood off her face and hands in the water basin therein. With the sudden release of tension, her tired body gave way to older aches and pains and she all but slunk back to the main room where she doused all the lights to darkness and crawled into bed. The expanse of sheets and cushions were enough of a separation between her and the god that lay alongside her, but still she arranged a shallow line of throw pillows and blankets between the two of them, just in case she were to roll over in her slumber.
Sleep did not come easy. The maiden was plagued with the images of blood welling out of cracks and pocks, uncontrollable and thin. Some of those images were even coated in a venier of recollection, and she feared being overwhelmed by the ghosts of her own black barbs and pale, blood splattered bones.
Rowena prayed for the first time since her death. She closed her eyes, and rolled onto her side. Unorthodox as the position was, she was still averting her eyes from her divine (who was normally in the sky), by facing away from him. She whispered into the sheet and coverlet clutched to her neck, barely audible even to herself, “Great Hunter of the Cosmos… May that which you cannot see remain in the darkness. Let stand your walls before your enemies, for beasts--” She faltered for a moment, failing to recall any true words of substance. She felt tears of worry and relief sting her eyes. Then she steeled herself and said, “Beasts survive, My King, and you are Beastmaster.”
She felt something in her, something small and good, grow ever so slightly with the words, like a louse in her heart had changed into a mouse. The weight of the star all around her compressed and then expanded, like Gaylord herself had gifted her a single, life-saving breath.
Only then did Rowena slip into oblivion; when she was sure she could face the nightmares certain to visit her.
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