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The sun rose high overhead, the chilly breeze rustled the leaves from their homes. I wrapped the cloak tighter around myself as the wind blew harder. We crossed leagues of barren farmland to the rolling hills that bordered the shallow valley. In the distance, a fine house butted up against the murky forest. The house itself stood alone but for a small shed. Though we were still a ways from the farm, I could hear the faint bleating of sheep, the baying of cows, and harsh squawks of duck. I could just make out the white cotton fluffs of the sheep as they ambled in a square of land enclosed by a white fence. Beyond the paddock, three figures ambled through a horde of what could only be chickens.
“...Destiny?” She smiled at the hesitation in my voice and rolled her eyes. “Will you tell me about yourself? When you’re not listening to petitions or fawned over by your kingdom’s most eligible maidens, what do you like to do? You’re my friend and I know nothing about you.”
“What do you want to know?” she laughed.
I looked out over the lands and my eyes fell on the bold orange flame of the forest. “What colors do you favor?”
“Blue,” Destiny laughed. “It comes in so many shades... It’s a staple in the Levante crest, hard not to like it. What about you?”
“I think I like the color red,” I was staring at her curls as I said it. She looked away as she swept her hands back through her hair. “And you like to ride as opposed to a carriage?”
“I like to hunt too,” she nodded. “I haven’t had a chance to organize a hunt for good sport in years.”
“But you...paint?” I pressed. “And your desk...” I wanted to know everything about her but it was hard to ask questions, to look at her with impunity.
“Mia,” her face was a little flushed as she chuckled. “Relax and breathe.”
I expelled a great deal of air and we both laughed at the awkwardness. “I’m sorry,” I giggled. “It’s hard to be myself with you.”
“Yet it’s too easy to be myself with you,” she countered. “I do like to paint and I have a deep appreciation for the written word... I love to read and sometimes dabble in verse and prose...”
“The better to woo your intended,” I teased lightly. She shrugged.
“How about you? When we first met you had a book in your hands, you must like to read.”
“I did?” I shook my head, “I don’t remember the book and maybe I left it under that tree.”
“I have it,” she confessed. “It was my book.”
“Oh?” I couldn’t understand why my heart was pounding. “What book was it?”
She fidgeted and color flooded her cheeks. “You truly don’t remember it?”
I smiled and shook my head. “I suppose whatever it was that took my memories happened after I read it...”
“Well, never mind then.” She looked relieved and a little embarrassed. I was mystified by it, wondering what the book could have possibly contained for her to be so uncomfortable. She very deliberately avoided my gaze, staring off at the sky as she tapped her fingers on the saddle.
“Fine,” I laughed. “What else?”
“I have a kennel, I believe I’ve just had puppies. I could take you down there before winter sets in, if you like. I haven’t seen them myself.” She paused. “Do you remember dogs?”
“Not really, my memories are very dark but...” I frowned as I tried to remember. “I think I may have had a dog and a kitten. I think the dog was white and the kitten was black...but I can’t...”
“It’s all right,” she soothed. “Don’t force yourself, it will come back to you. Which did you prefer? The cat or the dog?”
I thought about it. “The cat, I think.” She made a face and I laughed. “Well, I think I’m getting used to riding. It must take days to get to Mr. Pinkette’s along this route on foot. I might enjoy this if the opportunity to ride ever presents itself again. At least we share that interest.”
“We can go riding every day, if you want,” she said eagerly, “or for walks, whichever. The best part of friendship is sharing in the things your friend enjoys. Besides, I doubt favoring the color red defines who you are. You are no less in my eyes for liking cats though they are such snobbish little creatures.” She grinned at me.
“You believe cats to be snobbish?” I asked in mock surprise. “I expect no less from a person who would rather be showered in drool by an overly eager and excitable beast.” Destiny laughed heartily.
She was still laughing when we rode up to Mr. Pinkette’s gate. The three figures I’d seen on the road above had to be his children, three young boys, playing with wooden swords in the square of pecked yardage where their gaggle of chickens roamed. They stared at me with a curious expectancy and then spied Destiny beside me. I smiled kindly at them and dismounted. At some signal from the eldest boy, the youngest ran off to the house. The other two stood waiting at the gate and pulled it open as we dismounted.
“Good day, Your Majesty,” they said in unison with clumsy bows. One had sandy brown hair straight as corn silk, the other a mess of black curls. The black-haired boy was obviously the middle child; his pale eyes flickered to his brother as they straightened from their bows.
“Good day,” Destiny answered. The eldest boy took the reins of our horses. “What are your names?”
“I’m Len—Lenard,” the sandy haired boy replied. “This one is Flynn. Terrance went to get Pa.”
Destiny patted her mare’s neck. “It’s urgent that I speak with him.”
“Flynn, take them into the shop to wait,” he told his brother. “I’ll take care of your horses, Your Majesty.”
“Please, lead the way.” Flynn led us to the front door of a small shop not too far from the main house. The inside was dimly lit by scrupulously clean windows. The walls and floor were of a stark white tile but the thick counter was made of wood, worn smooth from years of use. When we stepped inside, Mr. Pinkette was waiting. He drummed his fingers against the counter and straightened himself when he saw us.
“Good day, Your Majesty,” he said with a bow, “welcome to my humble shop. What may I do for you?”
Destiny’s boots were heavy against the plank floor as she closed the distance between us and the counter.
“We have a problem, Pinkette,” she said gravely as she set her hands along the counter’s edge.
“P-problem, Your Grace?” he stammered.
“I confess I’m no expert on the specifics of the matter but do you recognize this young lady?”
His watery eyes fell on me and he frowned before his pale face smoothed out. “Oh, yes I remember,” he said dreamily. He shuddered and blinked rapidly as he moved to stand behind the counter. It rested on a platform of sorts that allowed him to tower over his customers. Being such a short man, he only reached Destiny’s eye level. “But what is this problem, Your Grace?”
“The most peculiar incident,” she began, “the annual Feast was ruined.”
“Ruined, Your Grace?” he asked.
Destiny nodded slowly. “There was no meat and I’m told Mistress Rosen placed an order through Amia who, in turn, paid you. From what I gather, there wasn’t a single square of your meat in the castle. How is it that you received payment and we have no merchandise? Explain this to me.”
“I...well...I’m afraid I don’t know what happened exactly, Your Grace.” He wet his lips as his eyes darted around the shop. “I have been ill since winter last. My son made the delivery. His first time running the cart alone, but I’m sure he made it to the castle.” He looked apologetic, but his eyes bore the truth.
“But you did receive your fee, did you not?” Destiny asked him.
His eyes misted as he stared through me to the wall behind. “Miss Amia brought Mistress Rosen’s order to me and the money.” He rubbed his eyes as Destiny looked at me in puzzlement. I shrugged in answer to her silent question. “There was another girl along but I remember Amia, that brown skin—not an easy thing to forget.” I bristled at his words, hating that he’d referred to my skin as a thing.
“Mr. Pinkette,” Destiny sighed, “you must understand my position. The only one who benefits from this ill-fated transaction is yourself. You have our money and, for all I know, the meat.” She leaned her hip against the counter. “You were most reliable in years past and though I wish to trust your word–that this was a mistake of some sort—I’m afraid I cannot.
“There is more to the tale that you are not telling. Lying to me, in addition to stealing from the Queen is a high offense. You would never have to worry about driving the cart again.” Her face was grim as she spoke. The afternoon sunlight, beaming in through the window behind Mr. Pinkette, illuminated one side of her face and burned the wine-red streaks in her hair. She looked terrifying and yet my mouth watered. Mr. Pinkette rolled his meaty hands together and wet his lips.
“I beg Her Grace have mercy. I would never lie to you. I swear I did not steal anything—” Destiny waved her hand.
“Be still,” she sighed as she looked at him. “You will return every cent you stole from the Queen or the castle will seize your land and business to make better use of it. This land and yourself in my dungeons will hardly repay the insult you have made upon my house, Pinkette.” She removed a short dagger from her belt and proceeded to pick her nails with the tip. Sweat broke out over Mr. Pinkette’s shiny forehead. “I’ll have to imprison your family but I’d have to make an example of you. I detest liars, all the better to use you to deter others who would dare.”
“Your Grace!” his hands wafted as he panicked. “I gathered the meat myself, placed it on the cart myself, and sent my son, Turner, with that same cart to the castle.”
“Yes, but does that explain why we are without?”
He gestured randomly. “Perhaps he mixed up the deliveries?”
“Explain to me how that is my problem?” She seemed to inhale her surroundings, drawing from the dust and light around us. Her eyes brightened, the muscle in her jaw tensed. She looked down on Mr. Pinkette in distaste. I had never seen her look more angry, more powerful, or more beautiful.
“Forgive me!” he shuffled away from the counter and dropped to his knees at Destiny’s feet. “I am mistaken, we only deliver to the castle. Others travel to our shop or we set up a stall at the market. As I said, I bundled it up myself.”
“Did you ask your son if he had delivered the meat as you had instructed him? Or did you go on faith?”
“He is my son, Your Grace. I trust him.”
“Then you will answer for that misguided trust,” she snarled.
“Wait!” I cried. She slowly turned her eyes to me. “When we arrived at the shop there were three boys, Len, Terrance, and Flynn. They told us their names. But you said your son, Turner, where is he?”
“Yes, indeed,” Destiny nodded, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “There were three boys playing in the fields when we arrived. Who is Turner, Mr. Pinkette? A phantom of your conjuring who would shoulder your blame?”
“Turner is his son from his first marriage.” We turned to the door, Mr. Pinkette nearly jumped from his bones. Mrs. Pinkette was in the doorway, cleaning her hands on a well-used towel. “What has he done now, George?” When she saw Destiny’s face and hair, her own paled.
“Your husband sent him to the castle with a delivery.”
“You allowed Turner to drive the cart?” Mr. Pinkette looked distraught.
“This boy doesn’t normally make our deliveries in your husband’s absence?” Destiny asked. Mrs. Pinkette laughed.
“I would rather send Terrance with that cart than Turner. He is completely irresponsible,” she answered. Her face pinched with anger as she stared at her husband. “George, tell me you didn’t.” He fidgeted beneath her angry glare.
“Oh, he did,” Destiny retorted. “The Harvest Feast was ruined, the Queen is in a state.”
“Perhaps Her Grace would allow Mr. Pinkette to pay off his debt by providing a full month’s worth of provisions free of charge?” I offered.
“To do that would break us! I can’t,” Mr. Pinkette choked.
“We paid you!” Destiny said angrily. “Seeing as how with Amia’s suggestion you keep your contract and your freedom, I believe that’s more than fair. I would rather burn our agreement and have your hands removed for thievery!”
Mrs. Pinkette clapped her hands to her mouth.
“But I can’t make the deliveries anymore, Your Grace!” he argued.
“Then we have no further use for you. Would you have me continue to pay you only to receive nothing?” Destiny waited for him to speak but he did not. “Your other children are too young to take the cart and if you have no one else, I must take the castle’s business elsewhere but you will provide a full month’s worth of meat or I will revert to my earlier decision. You have Amia to thank for my mercy.” She gestured for me to follow her from the shop but Mr. Pinkette called her back.
“Turner is a good lad, he’s aimless but he tries his best. I’ll hire the neighbor’s boy to drive the cart and make my rounds. I’ll do whatever I need to make it right with Your Majesties.”
“Make sure that you do,” Destiny glared. She snatched my wrist and pulled me from the shop.