The Fire Queen put down the scroll in front of her, and sighed. “I have lost confidence, First Minister.”
“Lost confidence, mighty Queen?”
“Yes, Xakthan. I know you will find it difficult to believe. My splendid rule continues, my frocks are unmatched and my subjects continue to revere me.”
“That is true,” said the loyal Xakthan. The Fire Queen’s reign was continuing in splendid fashion, and her subjects did adore her. As for her frocks, he was prepared to take the Queen’s word for it.
“Is there something in the new drainage scheme you’re not certain of?”
Malveria scowled. “My knowledge of drainage schemes is slight. If you say it is satisfactory, I’ll sign the order. But it is not drainage that troubles me. Ever since the malevolent Kabachetka was photographed for the ‘fashionable party people’ page in Vogue, I have felt matters slipping away from me. What if she were to truly overtake me in matters of fashion?”
“That seems very unlikely.”
“Is it? Perhaps Vogue is trying to tell me something. Perhaps it is time for me to retire from matters of style, and spend my days wrapped in one of these dreadful old garments my mother used to wear, may she walk peacefully in the warm flames of the afterlife.”
First Minister Xakthan had never understood fashion, but did his best to reassure the Queen. “Does not Thrix MacRinnalch keep you ahead of the Empress?”
“She did. But Thrix has been too busy with werewolf affairs. And I fear she may die soon.”
“Die soon? Is she ill?”
“In a way. She is ill inside. She is obsessed with revenge, and has used much difficult and harmful sorcery in an effort to attain it. It is burning her up. But that is not what will kill her.”
The Fire Queen gave her first minister a short account of recent events on Earth concerning the MacRinnalchs. “It is a very dangerous mission they embark on. I fear for Thrix. I would go with her but I cannot enter a dwelling of the stone dwarves. I have never regretted that before, but I do now. I wish they had not cursed me.”
“But the curse was worthwhile,” said Xakthan. “It happened because we destroyed their army. How we chased them from the field!”
First Minister Xakthan had fought that day, and he was proud of the memory.
“We did. But I wish I had not killed Gasanda. It has always been a source of regret.”
“You had no choice,” said Xakthan. “She was an invader.”
The Fire Queen sighed, and looked morose. “We had such fun when we were children.”
Xakthan was silent, unable to think of anything that might cheer her.
“So now I can’t accompany Thrix. The worry has been affecting me. And this, added to the Vogue disaster, has quite drained my confidence. It has never struck me before, First Minister, but perhaps the reason I have not produced an heir is because no one would want to produce one with me.”
Xakthan was astonished to hear this, and would have rushed to reassure the Queen, had he not always found it both difficult and inappropriate to comment on the Queen’s personal life. “I am sure that’s not true at all,” was all he could manage and, even at that, he felt embarrassed.
“Really? There must be something wrong with me. Do you know that my dismal niece’s efforts to find me a partner now extend to the Duke of the Black Castle?”
“I suspected as much.”
“You did? How?”
“I’m not quite as unobservant as you think.”
The Fire Queen managed a small smile. “I suppose you are not. One is tempted to throw Agrivex in the volcano for her impudence, and yet . . .” The Fire Queen raised her palms. “Is it so ridiculous? I suppose I must have some sort of consort if I am ever to produce an heir.”
“How about Duke Garfire?” suggested Xakthan. “He’s very respectable.”
The Fire Queen shuddered. “Please, First Minister. Were I to marry Garfire, I would soon be obliged to kill him before fleeing from an outraged populace. And the same goes for Stratov and all the rest. What is it about my aristocracy that makes them all so tedious?”
“Is DeMortalis tedious?”
“No. He is witty, handsome, charming and even rather exciting. But he is not respectable, and I just do not see him as a consort. The population would not like it. Or perhaps they would. I can no longer tell. This worry is affecting my judgment. And it is quite ruining my encounter with Donatella.”
“Donatella?”
“Versace,” explained the Fire Queen. “She is involved in the launch of Mr. Takahashi’s new fashion line.
“Mr. Takahashi?”
“A young Japanese designer. I’ve been keenly looking forward to this event, but now I shrink from the affair. Kabachetka will be there, in the company of those fashion editors she has managed to fool with her charitable pretensions. Worse, it is on the very night that the MacRinnalchs are planning their attack. I cannot be charming and beautiful when I’m worried that Thrix may be on the receiving end of a silver bullet.”
“Werewolves are hardy creatures,” said Xakthan. “She’ll survive a silver bullet, unless it pierces her heart.”
“That is not very reassuring, First Minister. I fear there will be many silver bullets, and one of them will find her heart. I also fear that Kabachetka may be involved.”
“Why would she be?”
“She still assists the werewolf hunters. Thrix does not fear this. She insists the Empress does not know of the attack. But I am suspicious, Xakthan. I will watch her on the night, and make sure she does not leave to assist the hunters. Which reminds me, is there word from our spies in the Empress’s palace?”
“There was an attempt on Sarapen’s life. He survived it.”
“Have we managed to give him the means of escape?”
“Not yet. The Empress’s agents watch him at all times.”
“Keep trying. I have made a promise to Dominil MacRinnalch.”
“Very good, mighty Queen.”