The queen didn’t comment on my assessment. Perhaps she already knew a trip to Paxworth was beneath her. Or perhaps she was just asking polite questions and didn’t care about our answers. The other women in the group looked as smug as cats at my admission. Which probably meant I shouldn’t have disparaged my estate, but well, none of this really mattered. I wasn’t vying for a place at court. If I did my job tonight, court would change completely at daybreak. According to Aeradoran law, a queen without an heir couldn’t rule. Marita would soon be on her way back home with only some dreadful memories of her time here.
A harsh thought. I didn’t like feeling like the villain.
Queen Marita’s next question was, “How are you enjoying the wedding celebration?”
This was an opportunity for each woman to gush about the splendor of the palace, the food, the gardens, and the royal couple. After an impressive amount of flattery on these topics, Floris added, “Even the wizards here are more handsome.”
Her statement caused an uncomfortable silence. Floris, it seemed, had momentarily forgotten that two of the king’swizards were dead. She cleared her throat awkwardly and took a drink from her goblet.
Perhaps to break the silence, Princess Beatrice said, “I assume you’re referring to Mage Warison. He’s quite young and handsome. I understand he’s a favorite with the ladies at court.”
“Yes,” Floris said quickly. “I’ve always found him to be a perfect gentleman.” Perhaps emboldened by the attention, she added, “I’ve heard in some countries, kings encourage their mages to marry because if they do, their children have a greater chance of bearing a wizarding mark.”
I’d heard this theory myself, and some of the apprentices at Docendum had mages for relatives, so it could be true.
Queen Marita gave Floris a knowing smile. “You speak as one with an interest in the subject.”
Floris blushed. “I’m only thinking of the welfare of the country.”
Not likely. I shouldn’t have felt satisfied that Ronan wasn’t encouraging Floris’s flirting. She could blame his aloofness on his court duties, but if he’d wanted a wife, he would’ve married. He was either waiting until he found the daughter of a more powerful family, or he’d adopted Mage Wolfson’s views on the vulnerabilities of relationships.
Queen Marita took a sip from her cup and smiled at us. “We shall do our best to convince the eligible men at court of the virtues of marriage.”
The noblewomen tittered at this pronouncement, and wanting to join in the sentiment, I raised my cup as though giving a toast. “Long live the queen.”
As soon as I spoke, I worried I’d been too familiar, but Her Majesty laughed and turned to me. “Have you your eye upon someone at court?”
I froze. To say yes would be to draw unwanted attention to myself but to say no might make me appear haughty. “It isn’tmy place to eye the bachelors. My aunt has made it clear that choosing a husband is her domain.”
The queen’s eyebrows rose in amusement. “Is she choosing for you or for herself?”
“Well, many of the men I’ve met I would gladly leave to her.”
“Indeed,” Queen Marita said. She turned to her sister-in-law and gestured in my direction. “This one is clever.”
Princess Beatrice smiled placidly and wrote something on a piece of parchment in her lap. I hadn’t realized Princess Beatrice was taking notes and was suddenly worried about what she’d written. Was being clever good or bad? I bit the inside of my cheek, determined to say as little as possible from here on.
Queen Marita’s words had the opposite effect on the other women in the room. I could have hardly spoken again if I’d wanted because the rest of them all tried to outdo each other’s cleverness. It was a harder task for some than for others. For all her beauty, Floris, alas, did not excel in this venture.
After about an hour of trying to amuse the queen with witty and astute observations, Floris, in a return to flattery—her forte—told everyone that the view of the surrounding valleys from the top of the castle walls was the most breathtaking in the land. She asked if Queen Marita had taken a stroll there yet and volunteered herself as a companion.
The queen declined, but not wishing to deny the rest of us of that pleasure, she sent a message to the steward asking that he send someone to take us there after we finished with our drinks. And so, I was forced into another activity.
The walk along the castle walls took longer than was necessary, as the queen also sent for Mage Zephyr and told him to ensure the parapets were spotless before our tour so that we didn’t sully the hems of our gowns.
When he reached the room and heard her request, he blinked at her, a picture of offended pride. “You want me to use my magic to clean?”
To Queen Marita’s credit, she didn’t modify or even repeat her request. She simply stared at him, waiting to be obeyed. She expected it as her due. Ah, to be a woman of that much power.
After a brief hesitation, the wizard bowed stiffly. “I’ll gladly do whatever I can to make your guests more comfortable, Your Majesty.”
At that moment, I adored the queen and could have happily contemplated a future that consisted of her ordering around wizards as though they were glorified washing women. But no. I had to hope for other things.
Once the lot of us traipsed outside, Mage Zephyr made us wait at the base of the walls for an exceedingly long time while a small funnel of rain traversed the walkway on the top of the walls. After the area was sufficiently soaked, several blasts of wind chased each other over the area.
The man had obviously never cleaned anything in his life. Rain didn’t come with soap suds. Wind didn’t carry scrub brushes.
At last, he finished with his lengthy and largely ineffective efforts, and one of the steward’s assistants took us up the stairs. He led us around while we hefted our skirts up to keep them from dragging along the stones.