Installment I
in which a brave Queen plans a Celebration but instead faces a grave Danger!
Long ago and far away, the proud and prosperous kingdom of Amesby lost its beloved king. With broken hearts, they passed their period of national mourning, with no one so sorrowful as his only child. The kingdom was now under her rule: the very young, very grief-stricken Queen Eleanor. Though she had been raised to one day ascend to her father’s throne, she did not feel herself at all prepared to do so at merely twenty years of age.
Fate, in its oft-cruel sense of timing, set before her the task of hosting the once-a-decade Unification Ceremony, in which the country’s ruling barons gathered at the royal palace to declare their loyalty to the kingdom and confidence in its monarch, who in turn pledged to hear the counsel of the barons and listen to the needs of the people.
Eleanor had been queen but a month! A month in which she had grown less sure of herself, not more. A month in which she had made more missteps than she felt herself able to ever forget or overcome.
Failure to complete the Unification Ceremony would send her kingdom into chaos and warfare.
Thus, summons were sent to all corners of the kingdom by way of the fastest messengers available. All the barons in the land—and there were a great many—were required to make their way to the royal palace. There would be a week of gatherings, contests of skill and strength, the ceremony itself, and, at the end, a grand ball.
All was predetermined. All was required.
In the afternoon of the day of the barons’ arrivals, which the queen was required to not be present for—a tradition held over from the days when the monarch was often at odds with the barons—Her Majesty took to walking about her private garden, the only part of the palace, beyond her personal quarters, where no one was permitted to be but herself.
Oh, Father! she silently bemoaned. I am not equal to this. I am not the leader or diplomat you were.
Should the worst happen and the Unification Ceremony not be completed properly, her father’s kingdom would fracture. Should that fracture widen and deepen, peace would be lost, and countless people would suffer. Horrifyingly many would die.
It was too much for her inexperienced shoulders to bear. But what choice did she have?
Her feet took her past the sentry box where a guardsman stood, keeping the monarch’s private garden private. She knew this sentry. His father had also been a guardsman—the Captain of the Guard, in fact—and Eleanor had come to know Reynard Atteberry when they were both children. They had played together. They’d once even been friends, a rare thing for a princess. She was too often kept separated and isolated, and that meant she was often lonely.
“Good morning, Reynard,” she said as she reached his post. “Thank you for watching over the garden.”
“My pleasure, Your Majesty.” He spoke without taking his eyes off the path beyond the gate he guarded, watching for anyone approaching. He had a duty to fulfill, after all. Duty always came before friendship, even before happiness at times.
Duty.
Always.
Eleanor continued onward, beginning a second circuit of her only place of solace. If she could find a bit of peace, she might feel less disheartened.
She’d only just stepped beyond the shadow of the sentry box when a new shadow fell across her path.
Amesby was home to a great many barons with a history of warring with one another and a peace brokered between them every ten years. But the kingdom was also home to those who possessed magic but not the right temperament for utilizing it without causing pain and suffering.
Dezmerina was one such sorceress.
Eleanor had seen her but twice before: shortly before her mother’s death and shortly after.
The sorceress now stood on Eleanor’s path, watching her with the hard and unyielding expression Eleanor had seen in her nightmares.
“They are all arriving today,” Dezmerina said, her inflection flat but still sinister, calm but still threatening.
“You are not amongst those required to be here this week.” Eleanor attempted to sound like Queen Eleanor, but somehow managed to sound like a tiny child.
“I require myself to be here,” Dezmerina said. “I am owed this moment.”
“And what moment is that?” Eleanor tipped her chin, trying to hide her worry.
“Amesby has ignored me long enough, has withheld from me what I am entitled to. Your father refused to cede to me what was mine.”
“And what is that?”
Dezmerina took a step closer to her. Eleanor stepped backward.
A smile slowly pulled at the sorceress’s lips. “A throne. Mark my words, it will be mine.”
The air around them began to stir, though not a single blade of grass moved. Dezmerina raised her arms at her side. Her eyes turned dark and sinister. Her voice pitched low, she intoned,
“Whene’er the sun lights Amesby skies,
Her queen will see through pine marten’s eyes.
While battles rage and chaos reigns,
Her life will ebb whilst mine remains.”
The swirl of air wrapped itself ever tighter around Queen Eleanor, squeezing and pressing her from all sides, and her body shrunk with it. She tried to call out, pleading for help from anyone who might be near enough to hear, but the transformation stole her voice.
Dezmerina cackled an evil laugh, pleased with herself and pleased with the pain her curse would cause the daughter of the man who had made himself her enemy. Throwing her arms downward, she disappeared in a crash of thunder.
Sentries were forbidden from leaving their post. The sentry box was to always be directly beside them, the gate to the garden ever behind them. Reynard Atteberry was not one for breaking rules nor doing things he oughtn’t. He was honest, dependable, as steadfast as stone.
He’d seen and heard all that had happened, having been overlooked by Dezmerina, no doubt on account of his lowly birth and place of comparative unimportance. What, after all, mattered a single guardsman to one whose entire focus was on destroying a monarchy?
Reynard abandoned his post that day, violated every rule he’d been taught about being a sentry and a guard. He rushed toward the small creature, its dark fur glistening in the sunlight.
Her queen will see through pine marten’s eyes.
And that was precisely what the ice-hearted, villainous sorceress had transformed Queen Eleanor into. No larger than a cat, but with the proportions of a weasel and the distinctive cream-colored fur “bib” about its throat. There was no mistaking that Queen Eleanor, only a month on the throne, had been transformed into a pine marten.
How the curse could be undone, Reynard knew not.
But he knew this: he had sworn to safeguard his queen, and he would do so at all costs.
Installment II
in which our valiant Sentry faces a Perilous Decision!
If Reynard had harbored any doubts about the true identity of the pine marten in the queen’s garden, the fact that it willingly allowed him to pick it up and carry it back to the sentry box and then sat watching him with pleading and hopeful eyes would have managed to convince him. Pine martens, as a rule, were neither tame nor cooperative. This one acted more like a sweet-tempered kitten than a wild animal.
“I confess, Your Majesty, I haven’t the first idea what is to be done now.” How odd it was addressing an animal as “Your Majesty,” but, no matter appearances, he knew who she was. “Were I to tell anyone that you are Queen Eleanor, they not only would not believe me but I would lose my post, you would likely be tossed into the forest, and Dezmerina’s declared desire for revenge would be fully and horribly realized.”
Few people would have kept such a level head in the face of so strange a situation. But Reynard was no ordinary sentinel. His father had been Captain of the Guard and had raised him to be both adaptable and brave, both open-minded and focused. And, though their stations in life were very different, Reynard and Queen Eleanor had known each other from childhood and had even, when still little children, played together quite as if they were equals. They occasionally now even had very brief but friendly conversations.
He felt as if he knew her, as much as any commoner could ever know his queen. He liked the person she was. He cared what happened to her. And all that, no doubt, helped him keep his composure. Survival in a crisis seemed somehow more possible when the outcome impacted more than oneself.
Inside the sentry box was a single stool for sitting on, though the only time it might have ever been used would be when two sentries were present but only one standing at duty. Reynard had never known that to happen. He’d often inwardly scoffed at such a permanent solution to a nonexistent problem, especially when the box could hardly spare the space. He was grateful for it now.
Her Majesty sat on the stool, watching him as he spoke, making their conversation less odd—as much as was possible when a conversation was being held between a person and a pine marten.
“If I don’t stand at my post, the Captain of the Guard will be summoned. I’d do best not to draw his attention until I’ve thought of a believable explanation.”
The pine marten queen tipped her head, giving him a quizzical look.
“I am not usually one for inventing stories in order to avoid the truth,” he assured her. “You must admit, this is a very unique circumstance.”
She dipped her head, a movement very close to a nod.
“I will stand at my post and do my utmost to look as though nothing is at all amiss, but I will also spend that time trying to sort out what ought to be done next.”
Queen Eleanor curled into a ball of deep brown fur and rested her head on her tail. No matter that her features were now that of a weasel-like animal, her expression was easy to interpret. She was sorrowful, worried, but not defeated. Reynard felt certain she, too, was pondering how to thwart Dezmerina’s determination to destroy the newly crowned queen.
Reynard had not the first idea how to accomplish that. He’d once known someone who could have helped. A woman who’d had magic, but who’d not used it to cause hurt or harm. She’d healed and helped and benefited everyone she could. She’d been one of the most remarkable people Reynard had ever known.
But his mother was gone now, and with her all the knowledge she’d had.
His father had passed away two years earlier, meaning Reynard answered to a Captain of the Guard who was far less likely to believe him should he present to him such an odd tale as he had to tell.
What was to be done?
So few people in the kingdom had magic. Dezmerina had spent many years hunting those who did and killing any who refused to lend their gifts to her cause. Some were forced into doing her bidding under threat against their families. Those who were most able to assist in their queen’s current distress would, most certainly, be too afraid to make their abilities known.
Were he even able to find someone with magical ability, how was he to leave the palace grounds with a pine marten without drawing undue attention? Should anyone ask why he left the sentry box at the end of his shift and took with him a wild animal, he’d have great difficulty explaining it, never mind justifying having kept the creature in the sentry box.
While Reynard was trying, without success, to determine his next step, Queen Eleanor was pondering many things herself. Her form had changed to that of a woodland creature, but she was still herself, still had her own thoughts and feelings and memories. She still had her intelligence and determination to be the best queen she could be. But how could she possibly be any sort of queen at all if she remained a pine marten?
Whilst she was required to be absent during the arrival of the kingdom’s barons—a fortunate bit of timing, considering her current state—she was absolutely required to offer a welcoming speech the night of the Barons’ Feast. The Unification Ceremony would not occur for two more days, but failing to give the opening speech would put the feast in such jeopardy that the ceremony itself might as well be canceled.
Her father would have known what to do; she was utterly certain of it. But she hadn’t his wisdom to call upon. If not for Reynard, she would have been utterly alone, struggling to feel even a modicum of hope. Though they’d not interacted nearly as much in their grown-up years as they had while still children, she trusted him as much now as she ever had. He was a good man, kind and brave, with just enough of a rogue’s love for adventure to give her added confidence that he wouldn’t simply abandon her in order to fulfill his duty to stand where he was and ignore all else.
Eleanor could not recall ever having heard a pine marten make noise. They must have had the ability, but she could not predict what she would hear when testing her voice. Would the sound be quiet and weak? Would there be no sound at all? Truth be told, when she spoke as her human self, she often felt weak. She couldn’t deny other people thought the same.
But she needed Reynard’s help. She needed him to stay with her. And she wanted to help find a solution to her problem. Being able to speak to him would facilitate that.
She hesitantly attempted to speak. What emerged was a shrill, almost catlike sound. She tried again, concentrating. The sound changed ever so slightly, but it did change. With effort, she might find her voice. She might manage to talk or to at least communicate.
Reynard stepped close once more, speaking to her whilst still facing forward, looking, to anyone glancing in his direction, as if he were doing nothing but keeping watch.
“Two palace guards are coming toward us. They will be here either to take up their position on watch or to bring a message to the sentry on duty. They will spot you the moment they arrive.” He looked back at her without turning more than the smallest bit. “If you will go to the back of your garden where the weeping birch grows and hide yourself well, I will meet you there as soon as I am able.”
The pine marten queen nodded, grateful she could do so.
“I will not abandon you, Your Majesty,” Reynard promised.
She slipped from the sentry box and moved with the swift grace of the creature she had become, moving easily between the iron slats of the gate and into the garden, aiming for the tree Reynard had specified.
With Queen Eleanor safe from the notice of the approaching guards yet still in danger of being spotted by a gardener or gamekeeper, Reynard, feeling nervous but determined, watched his colleagues arrive.
“Her Majesty’s lady’s maid reports the queen has not yet returned from her walk in the garden. Have you seen the queen?”
Reynard nodded. “She did walk in the gardens earlier. The last I saw Her Majesty, she was walking in the direction of the back wall. It is likely she returned to the palace by way of the entrance there.”
“Was anything amiss?”
If only Reynard knew if these two would believe him were he to tell them the truth. All the kingdom knew of magic, and all the kingdom knew of Dezmerina’s violent and destructive use of it. But, somehow, their fear of her had translated into a certain stubborn refusal to believe that the harm she had caused had truly been caused by her.
The horrid sorceress had such full hold on the kingdom that she either forced cooperation or frightened into denial.
“Queen Eleanor appeared to be deep in thought,” Reynard said. “I very much had the impression she did not want to be interrupted.” Somehow he’d managed to offer an answer that wasn’t entirely false.
The taller of the two guards, Chester, motioned with his head toward the other. “George will stand sentry in your place. I am to search the garden. The Captain has asked that you make a search of the surrounding forest in case the queen decided to wander further afield.”
At last, a spot of luck.
The changing of guards was quickly accomplished. George stood at full attention. Chester slipped into the garden. And Reynard made his way as quickly as he could without drawing their notice into the adjoining forest, following the curve of the garden wall to the place where the weeping birch stood.
He spotted the pine marten queen quickly. She climbed agilely down from a high branch to one that grew out over the wall. From there, she leapt to him, and he caught her, wincing at the piercing of her claws on his arm.
Holding her protectively and watching for signs of other searchers, wanderers, or Dezmerina herself, he rushed further into the woods. It would be dark soon; they daren’t go far. But neither dare they remain within sight.
Reynard knew of a small cottage in the woods. It had belonged to his mother, and it was the place she had retreated to when Dezmerina had begun her efforts to gather or destroy those with magic. It was protected through charms and enchantments. They could be safe there. But what they would do after that, he did not know.
The sun was setting, the light disappearing quickly. The small animal in his arms grew heavier, more awkward to hold. He stopped his forward rush and set her down. As he did, the last rays of light disappeared.
And, in a twist and swirl of impossible movement, the pine marten transformed once more into Queen Eleanor.
Installment III
in which Clues are discerned and Hope is not lost entirely!
For a moment, neither Reynard nor Eleanor could speak a word nor take another step. What had undone the spell? What had caused the queen to resume her true form? Was it a trick? A trap?
Both must have had the same thought in the same moment as they both said in near perfect unison that they would do best to seek a place of hiding whilst they sorted what had occurred.
This was, of course, the very reason Reynard had suggested they flee into the forest. “There is a cottage,” he told her, “not far distant from here that had once belonged to my mother. I believe we will be safe there.”
“Will not Dezmerina find me there?” Eleanor did not seem afraid, simply cautious.
“It is protected,” he said. “In fact, it is protected specifically against Dezmerina and her aims.”
Eleanor was no stranger to the history of her kingdom, allowing her to understand instantly what Reynard was saying. “The one who lives there has magic.”
“Had magic. She is no longer among us. I am thankful, though, that she was not, in the end, destroyed by the evil sorceress. Avoiding that fate is the very reason she enchanted this cottage.”
Wishing not to remain in the open much longer, they rushed in the direction of the protected cottage. They quickly lit candles, illuminating the interior and its dust-covered furnishings and supplies. A trunk of blankets allowed them to guard against the cold without needing to light a fire that might draw undue attention. The cottage protected them from Dezmerina but it would not, necessarily, prevent the palace guard or any of the barons from discovering them there.
“I cannot imagine Dezmerina’s curse would be so quickly and easily dispersed,” Eleanor said. “Yet, I am in my own form now. What could possibly account for it? And how long will it last?”
“I wish I knew those answers.” Reynard was, indeed, frustrated not to know.
“I am meant to address the barons at the opening feast tonight.” Eleanor’s brow pulled in thought. “That will occur an hour after dark, which is not long from now. If I could be certain I would remain myself for any length of time, I would rush back to the palace. This week is vital to the continued peace in the kingdom. I dare not risk destroying what generations have worked to achieve.”
“The wording of the curse is crucial,” Reynard said. “It cannot behave in ways that are contrary to what was spoken. The difficulty comes in interpreting what is actually said as the wording is always, by design, confusing.”
“You seem to know a great deal about such things.” Eleanor did not sound horrified at his knowledge of magic.
“Like many in Amesby, there are some in my family who have magic—who had magic. I was taught that curses follow a pattern,” Reynard said. “The first line indicates the circumstances under which the curse manifests, the second is how. The third line predicts the impact of the curse, while the fourth lays out the requirements for ending it.”
Eleanor’s mind returned to the curse once more, thinking through the wording, through the details.
Whene’er the sun lights Amesby skies,
Her queen will see through pine marten’s eyes.
While battles rage and chaos reigns,
Her life will ebb whilst mine remains.
“The second line is why I transformed into a pine marten,” Eleanor said, thinking aloud. “And the situation has already led to chaos. The guards and household are searching for me. I can only imagine the panic is growing as the time for the welcome speech approaches.” She felt more than a small amount of that panic herself. Her first significant duty as the new monarch, and she would fail at it. “The how and the impact have, thus far, proven quite accurate.”
“The first line contains the rules of the curse.” Reynard thought on it as well. “‘Whene’er the sun lights Amesby skies.’ The sun is not lighting the sky just now. I had thought it simply meant so long as there existed a sun, which would mean forever, but that might not be the case at all.”
“I am only to take the form of a pine marten during the daylight,” Eleanor sorted out loud. “And it is currently not daylight.”
Reynard met her eye. “And will not be again until morning.”
Eleanor pulled the wool blanket more closely around her. “I could return to the palace and make the welcome speech. I’m not meant to remain at the feast, so no one will remark upon my departure. And tomorrow is the Baron’s Consultation Day, when the monarch is not to be present. So long as I escape the palace before dawn, my transformation will not be seen by anyone. There would not be panic created by my current circumstances, but neither would I neglect any crucial parts of this excruciatingly crucial week.”
“I can help you return to the palace,” Reynard said. “And I can help you escape in the morning.”
“Will not your absence be noted by the Captain of the Guard?” She knew the guardsmen were held to strict schedules, and desertion was not tolerated.
“Once we have discovered how to lift this curse, my absence will be easy to explain. Until then, the future of the kingdom depends upon our successful navigation of the difficult road Dezmerina has laid before you. The barons must be appeased. The kingdom must retain confidence in you as monarch. And the transformations the sorceress has subjected you to must be stopped.”
His firmness of purpose and unwavering dedication helped to bolster Eleanor’s. She was not a person of weak principles, neither was she in any sense a coward. The enormity of all that had happened was, however, a weighty and difficult burden.
“Let us return to the palace forthwith,” Eleanor said, sounding more like a queen than she had in some time. “I will deliver my welcome speech, then retire to my chamber, insisting I wish to give the barons full opportunity to enjoy their feast and prepare for their work on the morrow.”
“Do you wish to escape the palace tonight or shortly before sunrise tomorrow?” Reynard could not assist in her escape if he did not know when she would be undertaking it.
“Tonight, I believe. If I wait overly long, I might find myself mistaking the time of sunrise, and my maids will find a pine marten in my chambers. Heaven only knows what they would instruct the gamekeeper to do with me.”
While all the kingdom knew of Dezmerina’s power and nefariousness, few would believe the wild creature found in the queen’s bedchamber was the queen herself. And were they faced with proof, far too many people, especially amongst the kingdom’s barons, would either panic at such a fate befalling their monarch or seize upon the sudden vulnerability of the kingdom to claim power of their own.
Their only hope was to keep Eleanor’s current state a secret until the means of ending the curse was discovered. A problem with a known solution, however difficult, was less terrifying than one which could not be made right.
Reynard pulled a small leather box from a high shelf. He removed from its interior a carved stone hanging from a length of leather. “This amulet will offer some protection as we journey back to the palace. Its magic is not impenetrable, and we will not be as safe as we are within these walls, but it will offer us some defense.”
They each took hold of one end of the leather strap, the arrangement offering them both claim on the amulet’s powers.
“Where shall I meet you after you complete your speech?” Reynard asked.
“There is a small sitting room adjacent to my bedchamber. Inside is but one chair. It faces a window with a heavy curtain, the hem of which pools on the floor. Tuck yourself behind that curtain where it sits against the wall so you will neither be seen inside the room or through the glass of the window. I will meet you there.”
Reynard nodded, committing her instructions to memory.
They rushed through the forest, both holding fast to the amulet, both grateful for the other’s bravery and cleverness, both unsure of how they might thwart Dezmerina.
Once inside the castle, having entered through a door well-hidden but known to Eleanor, they were greeted with a dilemma. Eleanor needed to make her way to the great hall to deliver her address, while Reynard needed to hide himself in the small sitting room to wait for her. They could not both hold the amulet if they did not remain together.
“I will be surrounded by the barons and the household,” Eleanor said. “Dezmerina’s efforts are dependent, in part, on the power of uncertainty. I do not believe she will harm me whilst I am among a crowd. You, however, do not have that protection.”
“Your life is more essential,” he said.
She shook her head. “I feel firmly in my heart that we are both necessary to undo what the sorceress has done. I will have the protection of witnesses. You must have the protection of the amulet.”
Before he could offer another objection, they both heard the approach of footsteps.
“Go,” she said. “Down this passage to the winding stone steps at the end. Three revolutions, through the door, down that corridor. The third door is the one you want. Go. Quickly.”
And on that declaration, Eleanor let go of the amulet and hurried in the opposite direction. How she hoped in her heart he reached his destination without incident, without harm! She had harbored such worry over her duties this week, over the speech she was about to make, yet it now seemed so insignificant compared to the obstacles in front of her.
She reached the exterior doors of the great hall just as the Master of the Royal Wardrobe arrived, flanked by dressers and servants who all looked remarkably nervous. That their concern visibly ebbed when they saw her gave Eleanor a surge of both relief and pride. She knew, logically, that their relief likely came from having feared she would not fulfill this duty rather than simple pleasure at seeing their queen, but she embraced the feeling just the same.
Gold-threaded gloves were placed on her hands. Her shoes, stained by grass and mud, were replaced with ones of silk and ribbon. A mantle of deep purple velvet and lined with ermine was fastened around her, draping at her sides and covering all but the front hem of her dress.
The royal coiffeuse quickly brushed and pinned her hair, undoing the damage of so difficult a day in an instant. The lighter of the queen’s crowns was placed on her head, the one she wore when seeing to official duties while not seated upon the throne.
Queen Eleanor turned to face the doors through which she was to enter the great hall. She took a calming breath, then nodded to indicate her readiness.
Two footmen opened the large, heavy oaken doors. The din of voices inside dropped immediately to a curious hush. Chair legs scraped the ground, and the rustle of fabric indicated the barons had risen, which was required of them when their monarch entered a room.
In her brief time as queen, Eleanor had practiced this moment as well as the others she would undertake that week. She knew where to stand and what to say. She’d feared she would quake her way through the ceremonies, but to her great surprise and relief, when she stepped into the hall, she felt her legs firm beneath her, felt her pulse maintain its quiet rhythm.
She climbed atop the dais and faced the gathering.
“Barons all, you are welcomed most warmly to the royal palace to begin our week of unification.” The speech was the same every time it was given, and Eleanor had long ago memorized it. “The Kingdom of Amesby is proud and dignified. There is abundance in the land and goodness in her people. You, dignified barons, are come to make ironclad once more the peace that has for generations seen us prosper and progress. In the spirit of that unity, I offer you this feast.”
At that final declaration, known to all who heard it, the rearward doors flew open and servants carrying salvers of food and ale stepped inside the hall to deliver the monarch’s offering to the newly arrived nobility.
“Huzzah!” the barons shouted, as was required of them. “Huzzah! Huzzah!”
As the third shout was made, Eleanor retraced the path she had taken mere moments earlier and returned to the corridor beyond the great hall. The barons were left to enjoy their feast, casually discussing over the meal what would be formally discussed among them the next day.
The week of unification had begun.
But after the Baron’s Consultation Day, Eleanor would no longer have an excuse to be absent during daylight hours. If a means of ending Dezmerina’s curse was not found quickly, the Unification Ceremony would not be completed, and the chaos and battles the curse predicted would become reality.
She and Reynard had but one day.
And one day could not possibly be enough.
Installment IV
in which Heartache proves itself a most painful Affliction!
Reynard kept perfectly still and perfectly quiet while waiting behind the heavy curtains in the queen’s personal sitting room. To be found there would mean imprisonment, charges of trespass and treason, likely death. Though he knew Queen Eleanor would come to his defense and spare him such a fate, she could not do so during daylight hours. And if he were caught in so compromising a place and the queen was found to be missing again, the conclusions jumped to would be devastating indeed.
All had remained calm and peaceful in the residence wing of the palace, a sign, he hoped, that the welcome speech had gone as planned without disaster or misstep. He hoped that was true not merely for the sake of the kingdom but because he knew the ceremonies surrounding this week weighed on Eleanor’s mind—on the queen’s mind.
He’d found himself making that mistake of late: thinking of the queen in friendly and personal terms. They had once, when children, been friends, even using each other’s given names quite freely. He’d fallen too easily back into that once-permitted indulgence, though to his relief not aloud.
Quick, quiet footsteps brushed over the carpeting of the room and, in a swift bit of movement, the curtain fluttered then fell back into place with this new arrival positioned with him behind it. He’d not lit any candles in the room nor were those in the corridor bright enough to illuminate his sudden companion. The person was near enough for Reynard to feel the warmth of them. He didn’t speak, not knowing if he’d been spotted or if he was, quite by accident, sharing the space with someone who hadn’t yet realized he was there.
“My speech went as it ought.” The queen spoke softly, her breath tickling his face. She must have been standing very close indeed.
“I am pleased to hear that.” He spoke in a whisper. “Were you chastised for your earlier disappearance?”
“There was not time. I did, though, receive a few quizzical looks.” Her hand brushed his arm then settled against his chest.
There was something unexpectedly reassuring in that simple touch, one that ought to have made him take a few steps back in order to regain an appropriate distance from his monarch. But, instead, he found himself setting his hand atop hers, holding it gently above his heart.
“There are enough from the household staff still in this wing of the palace that we dare not make good our escape yet,” she said softly.
“Will they not be searching for you?”
She shook her head, though he did not see the movement. “I informed my lady’s maid that I was retiring early and asked that the curtains around my bed be drawn. I further insisted I not be bothered all night and that I would most likely stroll my garden in the morning for a constitutional. That should prevent my absence from being discovered tonight and offer an explanation for my disappearance in the morning.”
“How late are the staff likely to be active in this area of the palace?” Reynard asked.
In a movement she gave no thought to but found entirely natural, Eleanor leaned against him. She spoke even more softly. “Another quarter hour, most likely.”
Hesitantly, Reynard set his other arm about her, keeping her tucked close.
Both participants in the clandestine embrace insisted to themselves that the arrangement was entirely a matter of safety, an effort to remain undiscovered. Both firmly ignored the insistence of their hearts that holding each other was proving both deeply enjoyable and utterly peaceful. And both knew better than to speak a word of those feelings to the other.
The quarter hour passed as if on the back of a tortoise. They stood so near that they could hear each other breathe, that the cold of the stone wall warmed behind them, that neither, for the first time in far too long, felt alone.
But neither did either of them look at each other, though the room was too dark for them to have realized as much. And as neither spoke, their thoughts were also unknown to each other.
How heartbreaking are moments of connection when those experiencing them are not free to express what they are feeling!
The residence wing outside the queen’s sitting room grew silent, most of the candles had been extinguished, and the intrepid pair were able to slip from the palace, doing so with as few words as could be managed.
They held fast to the amulet as they rushed into the forest and directly to the cottage waiting for them there and the enchantments that would protect them.
They were safe . . . for a time.
Eleanor pulled back the heavy burlap on the front window just enough to look up at the tops of the trees and the still-dark sky. “I’m dreading the coming of morning.”
“Does the transformation hurt?” Reynard’s voice echoed with compassion.
She shook her head. “It doesn’t, oddly enough. And I don’t even feel uncomfortable in the form that I take. I still think as myself. I can still understand people when they speak.” She clasped her hands together and pressed them to her chin. “I tried to talk while in pine marten form. I didn’t manage it, but I’m not certain if that is because doing so is impossible or if I simply need to continue practicing.”
“Do keep trying,” he pleaded. “If we could actually speak during the daylight hours, we would have a better chance of sorting out how to end this curse. It is too complex for either of us to remedy alone.”
“I will keep trying. I swear to it.”
His smile was soft and appreciative. “You are not easily defeated, Your Majesty.”
Her eyebrows pulled sharply together as she shook her head. “Please don’t call me that.”
“But you are the queen. That is how I am meant to address you.”
Misery tugged at her features as loneliness began filling her heart. “We were friends once, Reynard.”
At the reminder, Reynard’s posture grew rigid. “When we were children,” he said with firm propriety. “When you were not yet queen. Now that you are, it would be inappropriate for me to think of you in any other terms.”
He was attempting to remember his duty.
She was attempting to feel less alone in the world.
Only he succeeded.
Pushing from her thoughts the memory of him holding her in his arms and emptying her heart of the hope she’d allowed to grow that he might care for her, Eleanor turned away. She couldn’t bear the idea of her heartbreak and misery being so obvious to him.
She took up the wool blanket she’d used when they’d last been in the cottage and wrapped it around herself once more. Dawn would come eventually, and Amesby’s queen would again “see through pine marten’s eyes.” Even in the sorceress’s curse, Eleanor had been identified only as “the queen.”
That was all she was to anyone. She was the ceremonial robes she wore. The scripted words she spoke. A position but not a person. And everything depended on that continuing to be true.
Reynard’s words had hurt, but they were true. And they were a needed reminder of what was required of her. When she had been crowned queen, her personal hopes and dreams and wishes had been set aside, made secondary to what the kingdom needed. She would suffer fewer disappointments if she remembered that.
Eleanor wiped away a tear, feeling foolish and weak.
Reynard watched that tear form, feeling guilty that his words had contributed to her sorrow. He hadn’t meant to hurt her.
“For what it’s worth,” Reynard said into the heavy silence, “I liked being your friend all those years ago. I wish that hadn’t needed to change.”
She didn’t look at him, but kept her eyes on the window. “I’m not allowed to wish for things any longer. Not for myself. I would do best not to forget that.”
Several long moments followed, and Eleanor lowered herself onto a pallet in the corner, wrapping her blanket about her. Reynard set himself in a corner, another blanket draped over him. Exhausted, discouraged, and both lost in their separate thoughts, they drifted off into equally fitful sleep, unsure and wary of what the future might hold.
Installment V
in which Help is sought and Danger is courted!
Reynard awoke to find soft sunlight peeking around the makeshift burlap curtains hanging in the windows. Morning had come. And looking at the pallet where Eleanor—Queen Eleanor—had been sleeping, he saw she had transformed once more. A deep-brown pine marten lay curled in precisely the way it had in the sentry box the day before.
She’d said the transformation didn’t hurt. He hoped that continued to be true.
Reynard rose, stretching out the tension that had built in his body after he’d slept in so odd a position. He was not required to stand sentry today. Everyone amongst the palace guards was permitted two days in each month away from their duties. He’d chosen these days weeks ago, having wanted to attend the feats of skill and strength that were held during the week of the Unification Ceremony. That had proven fortuitous.
It is too complex for either of us to remedy alone.
His own words from the night before had returned to him again and again in his dreams. This could not be addressed by only the two of them. They needed others. Others who had magic. Others who might be willing to take a stand against Dezmerina.
And Reynard knew where to find them.
He changed from his sentry uniform, which he’d been wearing for far too long, and into a set of clothing that had once belonged to his father. If ever he needed his parents’ wisdom to reach him from beyond, it was then. His mother would have understood the curse without difficulty. His father would have known how to safeguard the queen. Reynard was struggling to manage just one of those tasks.
He set a hat on his head and pulled a knapsack over one shoulder. He intended to awaken the pine marten queen before departing, but she woke on her own. Queen Eleanor had told him she could understand him when he spoke, that she still thought as her human self. So he addressed her as such.
“I know of people who will help us,” he said. “People who can be trusted. They were associates of my mother, who built and enchanted this cottage. And while she was here, she was safe. You’ll be safe here as well. I am going to see if I can find us help.”
She hopped off the pallet and moved swiftly to the wall near the door. Stretching to her full length, she reached up on the wall, her paw nearly touching the amulet hanging from a nail. She looked back at him, then back at the amulet a few times in succession.
He understood. “I’ll wear the amulet while I am out. It will protect me, and this cottage will protect you.”
She dipped her head in a way that made him think of a nod.
He knotted the amulet’s two leather straps and placed it around his neck. “Please be safe,” he said. “I will return as soon as I can.”
Reynard slipped from the cottage, closing the door firmly behind him. He paused for a moment, concerned for Queen Eleanor, unsure of his ability to complete his task successfully. But being in his mother’s cottage had made him feel she was close. She had always believed in him. She would have insisted he forge ahead with confidence.
He moved with swift feet through the forest toward the vast field where the competition of skill and strength was to be held. It had been many years since he’d spoken with his mother’s friends, but he remembered them, and he hoped they would remember him.
Spectator benches had been placed in neat rows on the hillside overlooking the field of competition, but the press and pull of so many eager to watch gave the neat layout a decidedly chaotic feel. That suited Reynard’s purposes brilliantly. No one would take note of him wandering about, having conversations. He’d be able to learn what he needed and make his pleas for help without adding to the danger of the situation.
I’m not allowed to wish for things any longer. Not for myself.
He’d seen for himself how hard Eleanor tried to be the best queen she could be, doing what the kingdom needed her to do. Was she truly required to lose so much of herself in fulfilling her duties? It seemed terribly unfair.
“Reynard!” Marwen, an older man, one known to him from childhood, called out and waved him over. “How fare ye?” It was the greeting used by those with magic when encountering each other or each other’s families.
“I am as I have ever been, though not all know the how or when.” That was the reply used when one needed assistance from those with magic. Dezmerina was the reason they were all in hiding; she was the source of nearly all their difficulties.
Marwen walked with Reynard to where a woman sat, awaiting the start of the competition. Her name was Gerhilde, and she had been one of Reynard’s mother’s dearest friends.
“Reynard,” she greeted. “How fare ye?”
“I am as I have ever been, though not all know the how or when.”
“Tell us of both.”
He sat between them, and all three set their gazes on the field below, giving every impression of chatting casually whilst enjoying the day’s offering.
Keeping his voice low, Reynard said, “Our mutual adversary has set a curse.”
“Upon what or whom?” Marwen asked.
“To one known as Eleanor.”
There was a pause, a silent gasp.
Gerhilde pressed for greater clarity. “Known to us all?”
“Known to us all,” Reynard confirmed.
“And what has been done to her?” Marwen’s concern filled his soft voice.
“She has been transformed into an animal, but only in the daylight.”
“What are the four patterns?” Gerhilde asked.
“The manifestation is while the sun is in the sky. The ‘how’ is that Eleanor is transformed into a pine marten. The impact is battles and chaos. The ending I cannot truly sort out.”
“Tell us the fourth line,” Marwen said. “We will help you sort it.”
“‘Her life will ebb whilst mine remains,’” he quoted. “I have my fears about what that means.”
“Your fears are likely well-founded,” Gerhilde said. “While the curse is in place, the one it is placed on will slowly die.”
“But that is impact, not requirements for ending.” Reynard shook his head. “Unless the only way to end the curse is for—” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought.
“The curse will end when Eleanor’s life has been drained,” Gerhilde said. “Or—”
“I like the possibility of ‘or.’” Reynard liked it very much, in fact.
“Or when the caster of the spell has died,” Gerhilde finished.
Whilst mine remains. If Dezmerina’s life no longer remained, that would end the curse too.
“But no one has been able to defeat her since she began her reign,” Reynard said. “Indeed, many have been lost in the attempt.”
“So much so that you will have difficulty finding those willing to join you in your fight,” Marwen said.
“And how did you know I intended to attempt a recruitment?”
“Because you know better than most that a single person, or even two, are not enough to stop one as powerful as she.”
Gerhilde nodded in agreement.
“But if this curse is not lifted, chaos and battles will tear this kingdom asunder. That must not be permitted to happen,” Reynard said.
“She knows how to cause fear,” Gerhilde said. “Fear is a powerful thing.”
“Then we need to find something more powerful,” Reynard said firmly.
But before they could imagine what that something might be, the competition below quite suddenly stopped.
Everything stopped.
An explosion of sparks and a whirlwind of color split the scene, revealing the sudden presence of Dezmerina.
“Where is your queen?” she demanded in a carrying voice, echoing in the silence around her. “She is not at the palace. She is not here.”
No one spoke, but eyes were darting about, searching for answers in the faces around them.
Below, Dezmerina cackled. “Your barons are consulting. Tomorrow the Unification Ceremony will be held. But where is your queen? She has failed you. She has flown. War will descend, and chaos will reign in her stead, and I alone will maintain power enough to protect those who choose me.”
The already silent air grew heavier with worry and uncertainty.
“You have the night to choose your side. Once the ceremony begins, there will be no changing loyalties.” She held her hands to the sky, clouds roiling and spinning above her. “You have the night.”
And in a flash of lightning, the sorceress disappeared.
Installment VI
in which the Queen discovers things of a most Distressing nature!
Though oblivious to all that had occurred at the feats of skill and strength competition, Eleanor was hardly idle whilst Reynard was away. She felt unequal to the weight of being queen and suspected others also took little comfort in the idea of her on the throne. She wanted them to have confidence in her. She wanted the kingdom to feel safe and well looked after. Discovering their monarch was a three-foot weasel-like creature during daylight hours would only add to their doubts.
The week of the Unification Ceremony was always precarious, with all the kingdom holding its collective breath, praying peace would hold. She could not risk that failing. She would not.
It took doing and a great deal of patience, but she was eventually able to pull out and open a book entitled On the Creation, Implementation, and Elimination of Spells, Curses, and Enchantments she found amongst the stacks of jars and pots and other household things.
Eleanor was pleased to discover her assumption on the matter of her literacy was correct. Because she still thought and experienced life as herself, she felt certain she would still be able to read. She’d not felt as energetic today as she had the day before in pine marten form. She was weaker, more worn down. It was the result of worry and the strain of transformations, she didn’t doubt. She had energy enough, though, to search the book Reynard’s mother had kept in her enchanted cottage. In it, she hoped to find answers and solutions.
Turning the pages proved rather difficult. Her arms were so different in this form than in her natural one. And though she could retract her pine marten claws, she couldn’t do so entirely, and she didn’t want to damage the book. That slowed her search but did not thwart it entirely.
The book, she discovered, was organized in the same manner Reynard had explained the curse placed on her. Explanations and information regarding manifestations in the first section, how the magic manifested in the second. The third section discussed the impact of the magic. The fourth was dedicated to the wording of endings and what that meant for lifting a curse, ending an enchantment, or countering a spell.
Though she wanted to know how to end the curse placed upon her, Eleanor began with the first section of the book, searching each page until she found a heading that read quite familiarly.
Spells, Curses, and Enchantments
Beginning with Variations upon
“When the sun lights the sky”
It is a common misunderstanding that the manifestation of magic invoked with these words will be in place during daylight hours regardless of conditions in the sky. While that is generally true, there are notable exceptions.
Exceptions were precisely what she needed. She skimmed over the text devoted to wording that substituted “if” for “when” or included additional specifics such as “when the sun would normally” or “whenever the sun lights the sky, however dimly.”
At last her pine marten eyes settled upon the paragraph delineating limitations to curses that used precisely the wording Dezmerina had chosen.
Should magic be implemented with the manifestation declaration of “whenever the sun lights the sky,” even should the portion of the sky in which the sun’s location be specified, there are rare instances when the magic will not manifest during what would, by all estimations, be deemed daylight hours. A combination of thick clouds and heavy smoke can block out enough of the sun to trick the magic into relinquishing its hold for a time. Locations with particularly high mountains to the east will see the magic delayed until the sun is higher than the mountaintops. Likewise, locations with mountains to the west will see the magic lose its grip once the sun has sunk below those mountaintops, making it last a shorter time than it would in a place without such mountains.
Neither of those things really applied in Eleanor’s case. Amesby’s mountains were to the north. And she could not imagine, even if clouds rolled in, there would be a fire of such enormous proportions as to block out the sun. It would be far too great a coincidence, and a tragic one at that.
This manifestation of magic can also be temporarily tricked into releasing its grip when a shadow crosses the sun, blocking its light and dimming the world. The sun still lights the sky, but the heart of the sun is covered, and the magic will believe the sun has fled.
A solar eclipse. But it would only lift the curse temporarily.
She needed to know how to end it entirely. That would be found in the fourth section of the book.
Her agility with her clawed paws was improving, but her energy was ebbing. Did pine martens always grow tired so quickly? She didn’t think so. They were hunters, after all, needing to capture prey. Feeling as lethargic as she did would make her future efforts virtually impossible.
She searched through various wordings for final lines of curses and enchantments and spells until she found what she was looking for.
Spells, Curses, and Enchantments
Ending with Declarations Regarding
the Life of Those Involved
The curse had specifically mentioned life: both hers and Dezmerina’s.
Several entries below the heading, Eleanor came upon the entry most closely resembling the curse she was living with.
Curses, spells, and enchantments which specify, in their fourth line, the ebbing of a life rather than the ending of one will still be lifted upon the death of the person referred to. The difference is, that person will begin dying as a result of that magic and will, in time, succumb to it. That death will end the curse, spell, or enchantment.
Her death would end the curse. But that death would not occur by accident or as the result of normal aging. The spell, itself, was killing her. It was likely why she was tired today, why she felt as though she was struggling more than usual.
She was dying.
There had to be another way to end the curse and save the kingdom that didn’t require her death. And not merely because she didn’t particularly want to die. There was no clear successor to the throne. The battles and chaos the curse, itself, would cause, would not end with the curse being lifted. Her death would not save her kingdom.
It was in the midst of this discouraging discovery that Reynard returned. He looked as disheartened as she felt. If only she’d also found a means of speaking while in this frustrating form she was forced to assume.
He spotted her on the floor of the cottage. “My mother’s book. I hadn’t even thought of it. Brilliant.”
She didn’t always feel brilliant. That he thought she was, even if only in that moment, was a wonderful thing. That she was dying was not nearly as wonderful.
Eleanor tapped her paw against the page directly atop the bit she’d been reading. Reynard’s eyes slid over the page as he read.
He looked more saddened than surprised. “I consulted with two people who are wise in the ways of magic. They said the same thing.”
Eleanor leaned against his leg. She was both tired and discouraged and needed the momentary support.
“They did say that the last bit of the fourth line means Dezmerina’s death would end the curse as well. But only her death or yours can accomplish it.”
People had been trying for years on end to stop Dezmerina. As near as anyone knew, it was impossible. She was too powerful to kill and too feared for others to gather in anything approaching the numbers needed to have any chance of success against her.
Unable to simply tell Reynard what else she had discovered, Eleanor pawed the pages back, stopping when she reached the first entry she’d read. Once more, she pointed with her paw to the bit she needed him to read. And, once more, he did so without hesitation.
“An eclipse. You would temporarily transform back into yourself, long enough to address the barons and the people, to show them that Dezmerina’s powers are not infallible, that there are gaps in what she can do, flaws in the spells she can cast. If they feel that defeating her is possible, they’ll be more likely to try.”
Eleanor nodded, knowing full well the movement looked odd in her current state.
“My mother did not study the sky. There will not be anything in this cottage that will allow us to predict when an eclipse might occur, or if one will happen before—”
He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to. They both knew full well that the curse was actively killing her. Each day that passed, each moment, drew her closer to death, speeding her to her untimely demise.
But she hadn’t time for dwelling on that. She knew of someone who could, with accuracy, determine the movement of celestial bodies, and who had, while her father was still alive, accurately predicted more than one eclipse. But curse her pine marten’s voice, she could not speak to Reynard.
Eleanor turned pleading eyes on Reynard, tapping her leg anxiously, hoping to communicate with him.
Bless him, he understood rather quickly. “Do you know of someone familiar with the skies?”
She gave her best nod.
“Where do we find him?”
That was not a question she could answer with a nod or a shake of her pine marten head, which he realized quickly.
“At the palace?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“The village?”
She nodded.
“Let us go there, then. But I must warn you, fear has already taken hold of the kingdom. Dezmerina disrupted the competition today, issuing a warning to all. She declared that war is on the horizon, the queen has fled, and only those who side with Dezmerina will be protected by her. Once the Unification Ceremony begins tomorrow, she will allow no changing loyalties.”
And, because no queen would arrive at the ceremony—at least not a queen in human form as the ceremony occurred during the day—that would be seen as confirmation of Dezmerina’s declaration. It would usher in the start of the chaos and battles her curse promised.
The sorceress had, it seemed, thought of every aspect of her sordid spell.
What chance did a pine marten queen and a sentry guard truly have of defeating her?
Installment VII
in which the Queen and her Knavish Guard seek the Help they require!
The day was growing late as Reynard Atteberry rushed to the village that abutted the palace. He held the pine marten fast in his arms, both of them encircled by the leather straps of the late Mrs. Atteberry’s amulet.
Eleanor used her snout to point Reynard in the direction they needed to go. Her father’s one-time astrological advisor made his home above the pub, making him both easy to find and, in that moment, impossible to visit undetected.
All the village had gathered in the public house. There was no mistaking the topic they were discussing. Neither was there any chance of missing the fear they felt.
Gerhilde and Marwen were present and spotted Reynard upon his arrival. They rose and joined him, both asking with their expressions alone what his business in the village might be.
“There is a man here who knows the movements of the sky. Unfortunately, our friend”—he indicated the pine marten in his arms—“is unable to tell me precisely where or the person’s name.”
“This is the unfortunate creature we spoke of earlier?” Gerhilde asked.
“Yes, and she is able to understand us.”
“I believe,” Marwen said to Eleanor, “the man you seek is Orestes.”
She nodded.
“Follow us.” Marwen led the way up the stairs to the landing above.
A second, narrower, darker stairwell led to a second, darker landing with but one door. At that door, they knocked, and waited.
A man, hair whiter than snow, answered their summons. His was the face of a friendly man who did not suffer fools gladly, a decidedly interesting combination. No one took time to contemplate the contradiction; far too much needed to be accomplished.
“We come with urgent business on behalf of Her Majesty, the Queen,” Reynard said.
Orestes found them believable enough to let them in. He closed the door quickly behind them, a sure sign the old man knew that life in the village had that very day grown perilous.
“Her Majesty’s inquiry is rather simple,” Reynard said. “She wishes to know when the kingdom might expect to experience an eclipse of the sun.”
“Soon, actually,” Orestes said. “Quite soon.”
Eleanor perked up, wishing yet again she could speak.
“One will occur tomorrow. The first time, to my knowledge, that an eclipse will occur during a Unification Ceremony. I do not yet know if that is a good omen or bad.”
Eleanor turned about in Reynard’s arms, looking up at him.
He met her eyes. “You will be present for the Unification Ceremony. That will undermine Dezmerina’s predicted dissolution of the kingdom.”
But it was more than that. She could address both the barons and the people. She could tell them what had happened and do so in a way they could not deny it. They would know she had not abandoned them, and that Dezmerina’s goal was to destroy their dedication to one another.
This was hope.
“The sun is nearly below the horizon,” Gerhilde said, watching at the window.
Reynard set Eleanor on the floor, giving her space to make her transformation.
Orestes watched them with curiosity, his mind sharp enough that he pieced together the situation in the moment before the spinning and twisting caused by the curse transformed Eleanor once more.
She had told Reynard the transformation was not painful. And though that was still true, she was finding that each change was more exhausting than the last.
This time, she couldn’t remain on her feet. As she, now in human form, crumpled, Reynard leapt to catch her, saving her from a painful collision with the floor.
“I don’t know how many more times I can do this, Reynard,” she said, sighing as she leaned against him.
“It seems at least two more,” he answered. “Can you endure two more?”
She tried to be brave, tried to be reassuring. But her nod and smile were found lacking by all present. They knew, to a one, she might be nearer to the curse’s completion than any of them would like.
“Your Majesty,” Orestes said with a bow when Eleanor had regained her feet. “It was my honor serving your father as his Royal Astronomer. I am pleased to have served you as well.”
“Thank you, Orestes. Thanks to your help, we might yet save the kingdom.”
“Begging your pardon, Your Majesty,” Marwen said. “I believe, if we are to have a hope of that, it is your help we need most in this moment.”
She wasn’t certain what he meant.
He continued. “Below us, so many in this village are quaking with fear over what tomorrow will hold. They are debating what is to be done with someone as powerful as Dezmerina, who has both threatened them and promised to protect them. Their current predicament will soon spread through the entire kingdom, and all because our foe told them their queen had deserted them.”
“But I haven’t,” Eleanor said.
“They need to know that.” Reynard stood with a supportive arm still around her. “And now, until the sun rises again, you are able to tell them.”
“I have never possessed a knack for grand speeches.” The very thought overset her. And yet . . . “If their courage can hold, then mine certainly can. It must.”
How brave was their queen! How worthy! If only she truly realized how beloved she was.
“Come.” Gerhilde motioned the queen and her errant palace guard to follow her back down the narrow stairs, all the way to the public room below, where the voices were louder than they had been and the atmosphere had grown tense with wariness.
Gerhilde flung her arms out and upward, sending sparks high into the air.
“Dezmerina can sense the use of magic,” Eleanor whispered, frantic.
“The magic Gerhilde is casting now will protect this pub,” Marwen quietly assured her. “The enchantment will not last long, but it will keep Dezmerina at bay long enough for you to offer those here some reassurance.”
Eleanor held tight to Reynard’s hand. He knew it was not appropriate, that he ought to pull back and keep the distance required of a palace guard when interacting with the monarch. To allow this closeness was the act of a knave. Yet, he felt certain she needed the touch, needed the connection. He needed it too.
Those gathered at the pub had grown quiet, all watching Gerhilde.
“Let your minds rest, my friends,” she said. “I bring you reassurance.” She turned toward Eleanor. “Your Majesty.”
Eleanor kept hold of Reynard’s hand, bringing him with her as she stepped into the center of the room. Whispers bounced through the crowd as people bowed and curtsied to their queen.
“Good people.” Her voice wavered, but anyone looking at her would know she was sincere in wanting to be heard. “I know the threats and promises Dezmerina made today, but I also know the lies she told you. She said I had fled, had abandoned you. But, in truth, she cast a spell on me which rendered me unable to be seen during the day. She used that curse to convince you that I am dishonorable, that you have been left alone, that the kingdom is vulnerable to the very chaos that tomorrow’s ceremony was created to prevent.”
As she took a quick but deep breath, Reynard squeezed her hand. Gerhilde, Marwen, and Orestes offered nods of encouragement.
“She must not be allowed to destroy our peace. She must not be permitted to steal from us our future, our hopes, or our freedom from her tyranny. Those here with me are determined to do all we can to thwart her. But, good people all, we cannot manage it alone. We need you. I need you.”
“The sorceress will kill us if we defy her,” someone in the crowd replied. “She has done so before.”
“I know,” Eleanor said. “And I will not require anyone to court that danger. But if you are willing to help, please do. Please.”
Reynard stepped forward, addressing them himself. “You all know me. My father was born in this village, as was I. My mother had magic, like others in this room.” He wouldn’t name them, as doing so would put them in additional danger. “Many like my mother were killed by Dezmerina for defying her. I know perfectly well what you would be risking. But it is also why I am taking that very risk. My father dedicated his life to safeguarding this kingdom. My mother gave her life in protecting all of us from the very person who threatens us now.”
“For the sake of those who have fought this battle before,” Eleanor said, “please consider helping us. Our stand must happen at the Unification Ceremony tomorrow.”
“Consider,” Reynard said.
Murmurs began amongst those they had addressed. They all had a difficult, seemingly impossible choice to make. Offering them privacy in which to do it seemed the kindest thing.
Reynard and Eleanor held fast to either end of the amulet that had, thus far, protected them from the sorceress who meant to destroy the kingdom and rebuild it as her own. They rushed, unspeaking, away from the village and into the forest, back to the cottage that had sheltered them.
Only once inside, with the door closed and the window coverings drawn, did they at last fully breathe. But though Reynard felt a sense of relief, Eleanor crumpled, her strength nearly spent.
“Eleanor!” He knelt beside her, wrapping his arms around her, studying her face, needing to know he’d not lost her already. “Eleanor?”
She leaned into him, her eyes closed. “I truly think I am dying, Reynard. Ebbing, just as the curse said. A slow siphoning of life.”
“Do not lose hope,” he pleaded.
“It is not hope I fear I’ll lose, but strength.” She curled a bit, not entirely unlike the position her pine marten form took when sleeping. “I have to transform at least twice more. I’m not certain I have the fortitude.”
Reynard lifted her from the floor and carried her gently in his arms to the pallet, where he laid her down before pulling a blanket up to her shoulders. “Rest, Eleanor. Save your strength. And know you’re not alone.”
“Reynard?”
“Yes?”
“Will you promise to keep calling me Eleanor?” How she wanted him to!
How well he knew that he oughtn’t! “I would be a very presumptuous and insolent sentry if I did.”
She forced her eyes open, though it drained nearly all her remaining strength. “I have sentries aplenty,” she whispered. “I need you to be more than that.”
He wanted to be. He truly did.
Installment VIII
in which Choices must be made and Consequences faced!
All the barons were on the palace grounds for the Unification Ceremony, gathered in neat rows according to the ancientness of their various titles. Beyond them, the people of the kingdom stood, sat, and waited with interest for the ceremony to begin. On the dais was a perfectly round table with the three-wicked candle and ceremonial wreath upon it. The bejeweled crown lay atop a velvet pillow, awaiting the arrival of the queen.
But she was already there.
Tucked behind the tapestry table covering, Eleanor, in pine marten form, assured herself of two very crucial things: that Orestes’s prediction of a full eclipse would prove accurate and that her pleas at the pub the night before had convinced at least some of the people present to stand up to Dezmerina when she inevitably arrived in fury and nefariousness.
At Reynard’s insistence, Eleanor was wearing the protective amulet. She was, after all, alone on the dais and would continue to be even after the eclipse allowed her to transform into her true form once more. She was weaker than she’d ever been and had every expectation of being weaker still after the next transformation. If she had any hope of thwarting Dezmerina, she needed all the help and protection she could call upon.
As often as the gathered people’s eyes watched the dais, they also turned them upward to the sky. The eclipse had begun, the encroaching shadow covering more than a third of the orb. The sun’s heart had to be covered in order to fool the magic. That would not happen until the eclipse was nearly at its height.
Reynard was amongst the palace guards, recruiting them to the cause, rallying their support, and calling upon their sense of duty and desire to safeguard their kingdom and their queen.
Gerhilde and Marwen had sent whispers out amongst the others with magic, reminding them of those they had lost, encouraging them to stand with those who ought to have support.
Orestes wandered amongst the villagers and other people of the kingdom, speaking of the violence Dezmerina was known for and of the impossibility of one person—even the queen herself—defeating a villain like that if she was required to do so alone.
The time for the ceremony arrived. Word had spread from the pub all the way to the barons of the curse placed on the queen, one that made her unable to be seen in the daylight. Her absence, therefore, was not entirely unexpected, but neither was it reassuring. This ceremony had been the backbone of the kingdom’s peace and tranquility for generations. No matter that their monarch was not neglecting it out of indifference or even choice, to not complete the ritual would take them into uncharted waters.
Above their heads, the dark shadow passed farther over the sun, enough so that the sky itself was rendered dim.
From her place hidden behind the tapestry-covered table, Eleanor could feel an odd pulling and twisting. It was similar to what she felt when transforming, but it seemed to be shifting back and forth at the same time. Parts of her attempted to become human, while other parts firmly remained pine marten. In the middle of a transition, her becoming-human-limbs would transform to animal paws again.
It was, without question, the worst transformation she’d experienced. The others, as she’d assured Reynard, had not been painful: exhausting and uncomfortable, yes, but not agonizing.
This one was.
The murmurs from the crowd grew louder. The ceremony was late.
Eleanor silently pleaded with the eclipse to speed its path, to cover the heart of the sun, to grant her both relief from the agony of this broken transformation and the time she needed to address her people as herself. As if fate had chosen to be kind to her, the pine marten fur and clawed paws gave way to her own skin and clothes, to her own hands and fingers.
Drawing on every bit of strength she had left, and there was precious little, she rose and stood, leaning against the tapestried table. A gasp rose from the barons and gathered villagers alike.
“My people,” she said quickly, attempting to keep her voice loud enough to be heard, even as she could feel herself fading. “Dezmerina will arrive at any moment, I have no doubt. She has done all she can to stop this moment, to destroy this kingdom. We must not allow her to do so.”
Eleanor lit the ceremonial candle and placed the wreath around it with shaking hands. A speech was usually given, pledges both given and received from the monarchy and the barons to live in peace, but it was the lighting of the candle and the placing of the wreath that was the crux of the ceremony. After that, the crown was to be placed atop the monarch’s head, a symbol that the royal reign would continue in harmony with the nobility, the merchants, the people, and the kingdom as a whole.
A crash of thunder announced Dezmerina’s arrival on the dais before Eleanor’s crown was put in place. Some in the gathering ran for their very lives. They could hardly be blamed. Dezmerina did not make idle threats.
“Your time is up,” the sorceress declared to them all. “This kingdom will soon be claimed by me, to be ruled as I see fit. Make your loyalties known.”
“Queen Eleanor!” The shout went up from amongst the guards. Reynard had convinced them, securing their loyalties.
The guards’ declaration seemed to give courage to the barons, who added their voices. The people gathered did so next.
Dezmerina’s look of confusion was unlikely to last long. She would be angry soon enough.
“You cannot control them with fear,” Eleanor whispered. “They are determined to be free.”
Dezmerina flung her arms in a circle, and a pack of unnaturally enormous wolves appeared, lined up along the edges of the dais, keeping the would-be defenders of the throne at bay. Anger having seized her expression, the sorceress looked at Eleanor at last.
“It is daytime. Why are you not as you were cursed to be?”
“Your magic cannot see the heart of the sun.” Eleanor’s legs shook beneath her, but she stood tall.
“The eclipse,” Dezmerina muttered. “No matter. It will pass soon enough, and you will be helpless and hopeless. You cannot survive another transformation. And even if you did, you would never escape my wolves. They are very fond of the taste of pine marten.”
The dais was surrounded by those eager to defend their queen and their kingdom. The wolves might have been fond of pine marten, but Eleanor suspected they would not object to a meal made of those they were currently holding at bay.
Her eyes fell on Reynard. She could not bear the thought of him being killed in this fray, of his life, so precious to her, being lost. But what could be done but fight?
Whene’er the sun lights Amesby skies,
Her queen will see through pine marten’s eyes.
Soon enough, the eclipse would pass, and Eleanor would be transformed. She was the queen, and that was the curse.
Except the recrowning of the monarch was part of the Unification Ceremony.
Eleanor was the queen. But if someone else was crowned as part of the ceremony, by one who had the authority to do so—which Eleanor did—that person would, symbolically, at least, be the monarch. And the curse did not specify that Eleanor was to be transformed, but rather that the queen was.
“Will you let them live?” Eleanor asked, rushing her words, hoping to outlast the eclipse enough to prevent her transformation. “If I place this crown on your head rather than mine, will you let them live?”
Dezmerina’s eyes narrowed. “I would consider it.”
“No, Eleanor!” Reynard called out from amongst the crowd. “Do not believe her.”
She looked out at the faces of those who were ready to defend her. “I am certain this will be for the best.” How she prayed they believed her!
Her insides were beginning to twist again, a sure sign her time was running short. Eleanor took up the crown but didn’t move hastily. She needed Dezmerina to be crowned without enough time to return the favor once she realized what the ceremony would do to her. The pain increased, the tearing apart of her body from within as it struggled to know what form it was meant to take.
Eleanor set the crown on the sorceress’s head.
“I am queen,” Dezmerina said with satisfaction.
“Whene’er the sun lights Amesby skies,” Eleanor repeated, feeling her strength return swiftly, “the queen will see through pine marten’s eyes.”
The shadow slipped off the sun above.
Dezmerina’s body spun and twisted, the crown falling from her head, but the curse had taken hold. Her shrieks of anger turned the heads of her wolves. Their curiosity turned to unmistakable hunger as the sorceress took the shape of the one creature her pack craved the most.
In a dart of fur, the pine marten ran from the dais, the wolves after her. With the canine guards on the chase, some people they’d been holding back ran to the dais, while others rushed around it, following the pack to determine the fate of the one who had hurt them for so long.
Installment IX
in which the Queen, at last, is free!
Reynard was at Eleanor’s side the instant after she outwitted Dezmerina. He wrapped his arms around her, his words of inquiry rendered inaudible in the chaos. But Eleanor did not need to hear what he said; his love and concern for her was etched in her heart already. She tucked her head against him, knowing by the sound of snarls and growls from the magical pack and the shouts of celebratory relief from the crowd who had followed that Dezmerina was no more.
Directly into her ear, so she could hear him, Reynard said, “You’ve lost your throne, my dear Eleanor.”
“She had to be queen in some way when the sun returned. If that meant I would no longer be, it was well worth it. The kingdom will, at last, be free.”
That kingdom celebrated for three days following Dezmerina’s demise. The wolf pack was returned to the realm of magic by the efforts of those who’d once been forced to hide their gift.
The people sang the praises of their brave queen, not knowing if she would be their queen again.
The barons undertook two days of consultation, something that had never occurred before. But then, a monarch crowning someone else during the Unification Ceremony had also never happened before.
And thus it was, during this state of uncertainty, that the ball was held which always marked the end of this most important of weeks. All the barons and their families were present. Reynard, having been elevated by the Captain of the Guard to be the second-in-command, was eligible to attend the ball inside the palace.
The rest of the guards and the people of the kingdom gathered on the grounds for a party of their own. The celebration had seldom been so jovial. Yet, underneath the joy, was uncertainty. They had seen for themselves the bravery of their one-time queen. But what was to become of her now?
Into the gathering of glittering gowns and flickering candles, Eleanor stepped, her head held high despite the precariousness of her situation. She had not been lying when she’d told Reynard that her kingdom being free of Dezmerina had been her most important goal. But she was at loose ends and, until the question of her position was settled, she would continue to be so.
She paused at the top of the grand stairs leading into the ballroom. From there, arrivals were to be announced. But how to announce her?
Silence followed, and all eyes watched as the highest-ranking of the barons approached the base of the stairs and climbed them, one by one, to the top.
He turned and looked out at the ballroom. “Barons, gentlemen, ladies, and guests. By decree of the royal barons, I present to you—Queen Eleanor of Amesby.”
The cheer that rose shook the crystal chandeliers. The cheer that followed as word reached those outside the palace shook the very trees.
Their queen was theirs once more. As brave and good and loyal a queen as any kingdom had ever known.
And, in the years that would follow, a prince consort—as brave and good and loyal as any queen had ever known—would stand at her side, loving her, loving the people, loving the kingdom.
They were free from the tyranny of one who had ruled with fear and threats. Free from the violence with which that queen would have reigned. Free because they’d chosen to stand together. Because they’d been as brave and good and loyal as any people could hope to be.