“Leave it to an immortal to think
forty years wouldn’t make a difference.” Hyacinth said. The
wrinkles of her face deepened into a grin. The grin grew into a
smile, then into laughter.
Hangry, holding the missive basket, eyed his mistress. Nothing made the queen mother laugh. He didn't miss the edge to that smile that likely meant he'd be reordering the linens and pantry for the fifth time this week. Anger made her much too tidy.
“Does he know how old I am now?” She muttered. How ridiculous. Receiving an “accidental” love letter from the King of Adelli.
A werewolf.
A half breed responsible, as far as she was concerned, for the death of her sister. Her heart constricted. Who had ensured she received this? Lady Nell? Nell was always trying at subtle sabotage but why? To make the royal family look weak?
Hyacinth looked back at Hangry.
Hangry stiffened and fixed his eyes on the portrait directly across the room. It was of Hyacinth's late husband, King George. He saw Hyacinth watching him with a stillness that he knew to be deadly. Having the scrutiny of the former king and queen on him nearly had him blurting out the plain truth, that he'd taken a bribe and seen to it that the letter made it to her mail basket.
His jaw relaxed, lips parting to confess when the thought of his Cynthia's face when he told her she could order those fabrics she'd sighed over every time they'd gone to town had him biting his tongue. He stared back at the portrait in defiance.
“My heart pines, as I recall your fair face. I pine under the pines…” Hyacinth shook her head. “Just as awful as forty years ago. Poor fool. Mad and untalented.”
The silence that stretched and the knowledge that he couldn't win a staring contest with the old king's portrait nearly had Hangry confessing again.
“Why was this letter amid my correspondence?” Hyacinth asked him.
Her voice sounded too high and he glanced her way.
She bit her cheek but kept her eyes on him. The final glimpse of her sister bleeding in the jaws of a werewolf filled her mind and she bit her cheek harder. Why was it so difficult to make ones heart stop feeling loss as though it had happened a week ago instead of many decades?
She missed Hangry struggling to maintain his neutral expression.
“Why is this among my correspondence?” She growled it this time.
“Things like this can happen on accident your majesty." He said.
She narrowed her eyes.
His bushy eyebrows worked up and down as if they could do a better job to convince her. “I am sure your majesty has many admirers.” He opened his mouth to go on, closed it, and moved to take the letter from her.
She held it out of his reach.
"What did I say should happen to letters like these?” She said, “Better yet! How is it that you've faithfully followed my orders these ten years and on this day you've suddenly forgotten?”
His mistress looked like a sorceress with deep wrinkles and gray hair pulled back into a severe bun that was quite the fashion thirty years ago. Hangry stood even straighter, regretting that he'd taken the bribe from the werewolf emissary. What a mess. What would a couple silver do if he were out on his ear? He saw his mistress shake her head. She looked, if he weren't mistaken, miserable.
Hyacinth tapped the armrest, the velvet prickled her fingertips. Her eyes were drawn to the window at the castle shining nearly white in the sun and her mind went back to the exact moment she and Leon had met.
It had started rumors at court when on arrival for a peace meeting, he'd bowed to her and George but looked only at her. He'd been a muscled man with scruffy looking black hair, dressed in a plain brown robe. Werewolves all wore robes. His body language spoke of strength and the ease of a predator resting in the shade beside a herd of deer. His attention had been terrifying and intriguing to her at the time. She smirked remembering how George stared first at Leon then at her, mouth hanging open. That had been a glad time. She'd been someone then. Was Leon as wrinkled as she now?
Hyacinth tore her eyes away from the window, not liking the giddy feelings in her chest. Love was as fleeting as morning fog and just as disorienting. She was much too old for that.
The date on the letter said it was written was just a week ago. Had he ever stopped writing? Did he really not know her age?
Hangry noticed the spark in her eye. Whether it had been a good move or a bad one, it was certainly the most interesting reaction he'd seen.
Hyacinth leaned forward, her hip sore from the cool damp weather early spring brought. She couldn't help but toy with the thought of writing him back to have him show up and see her as an old woman. Hah. It'd be a good laugh.
"Queen mother, your granddaughter is here." A maid said from the open parlor door.
That snapped her out of all reverie. “Send her and my babies in.”
When the maid left, Hyacinth glared at the letter as though King Leon would be able to sense her loathing then stood, joints popping.
Hangry held out a hand to assist.
She waved him away and walked to the hearth, determined that the past remain in the past.
“This” She tossed the letter into the fire, “is how to sort letters from monsters. It seems rather simple doesn’t it?”
She met Hangry's eyes and he didn't miss the swirl of emotions that made her look ten years older. She looked bewildered.
Hyacinth stared at her steward, questions on the tip of her tongue. She nearly asked: “Had he really had been writing me all this time? Or is this letter was a one off?” It burned in her heart unlike anything else had in quite some time.
She looked away and took her seat, feeling as though she'd thrown a piece of herself in with the letter.
The letter was a brown lump by the time the four cats whom she referred to as her babies were lined up behind her couch. Their handlers held them gently.
Hangry noticed that she looked everywhere except fireplace.
Hyacinth’s eyes swept over Grenowin's plain gown when she entered. Her granddaughter preferred plain gowns to the ornate ones her mother loved. Actually, her granddaughter preferred breeches and throwing knives but was stepping into her role as heir-something heavily monitored by her mother.
“Granna,” Grenowin said. She leaned down and placed a kiss on Hyacinth’s cheek.
“Hello dear." Hyacinth indicated the open chair to her right.
Grenowin sat, tucking her legs under as a lady. Her mother had been working hard then.
"Say hello Muffin!” Hyacinth ordered her cat. Muffin was held closest to her. “Just this morning he was mewing at me. Saying hello to your mamma weren’t you?” Hyacinth wiggled her fingers at the cat who ignored her. She eyed her cat darkly. “Where are your manners Muffin?”
The cat dug its claws into its impressively stoic handler and let out a low hiss.
Hyacinth didn't miss Grenowin trying to stifle a yawn.
Hyacinth squared her shoulders, “You are very fortunate to have survived your last hunt my dear. In your Grandperri's day you couldn't turn around without a relative being eaten.” Hyacinth said.
“I think you exaggerate Granna.” Grenowin sighed. Hyacinth could read how much she missed being able to hunt since having to step up as heir.
“Fah. Just because you can not see the enemy doesn't mean they aren't there. Watching. Biding their time.” Hyacinth insisted. “You encountered a werewolf yourself.”
Grenowin shifted in her chair, “Granna, if you want to speak to father about who he lets into the kingdom, you should meet with him. I do not help with policy yet.”
Hyacinth sat back with a huff, “Yes, he’ll listen to me then go his foolish way. And don’t pretend you don't have sway. You're the crown princess, you'll be wed and have a baby on your hip soon.”
Grenowin flushed, “I haven't even courted Granna.” She sat up straighter. “Father has let the werewolves in to bring peace-”
“Peace is not sure unless it is taken by force.” Hyacinth said. She realized then how loud she'd said it.
Grenowin stared looking bewildered. Hangry and the maid too.
Hyacinth looked at the fireplace.
“Forgive me.” She said quietly. “Those your father welcomes are responsible for a great deal of pain.” She hated how her voice had gone strange again. The faces of those who'd died before and during the wars filled her mind. Her eyes grew hot. This was too much reminiscing in one day for an old woman.
She looked back to her granddaughter to anchor herself in the present. Grenowin was a dear for her weekly visits when the rest of the family stayed away but for once Hyacinth wished she'd leave. The silence stretched uncomfortably.
“Let’s take a turn about the fountain.” Hyacinth rose and led the way through the front door. The fresh cool air filled her lungs and cooled her eyes. She let out a long steadying breath.
The small two story manor at their backs was practically a cottage. It was preferable to living at court where she'd be used as a prop.
She realized Grenowin was letting out small sighs.
She could guess why.
“I had to do penance when I was a girl.” Hyacinth said gently.
Grenowin met her eyes looking morose. "I knew you'd likely heard. The whole court probably knows what the Pagoda decided. Shooting at that werewolf was an accident! He was out in the hunting grounds, what's a girl to do? The Light can see it wasn't on purpose.”
The Pagoda of the Light declared they were the authority on matters of the Light but in all Hyacinth's years of attending the homilies, the Light seemed better reflected in the trees and in the kindness between the people around her.
“Now dear-” Hyacinth said.
A long deafening howl split the air.
Hyacinth had heard it too many times to react beyond a stiffened spine and a look in the direction of the noise. They didn’t have much time by how close the call sounded.
The guards hurried to surround the two royals. Hyacinth pushed her granddaughter towards the front door. Once Grenowin started running, Hyacinth bent slowly, careful not to jar her bad hip, to pull a knife from her boot.
Grenowin ran a few paces before she noticed her grandmother wasn’t following. She looked wide eyed at the knife then towards the woods.
“Granna, come inside.” Grenowin said, a look of disbelief on her face.
“Guards, escort the crown princess indoors. Carry her if you have to.” Hyacinth said.
“No you can't!” Grenowin said, pushing against the three men who pulled her back into the manor.
Hyacinth let out a relieved breath when the door was shut.
She noticed Hangry shaking but holding his ground.
Two other guards emerged from the manor, joining the two defending Hyacinth in an X formation, spears at the ready.
Another closer howl broke through the quiet.
Hangry let out a small scream and even Hyacinth couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran down her spine.
“Get inside Steward.” She snapped.
He ran to the house.
If she survived, she decided she'd need to vet her staff better. Take them on a hunt and see if they screamed like a piglet. How could she have gone for so many years with such a man in service?
“Queen Mother, please return to your home and bolt the door.” A young guard she'd never seen before today said with a bow.
Hyacinth blinked at the speaker. His helmet was strapped on tightly and the way he held his spear told her this might be his first battle.
Two of the guards who Hyacinth knew as regular guards exchanged looks.
She turned away from the youngling and scanned the treeline. The breeze rustling through the oaks seemed deafening in the silence.
“Your majesty-” The young guard tried again.
“Shut your mouth young man. I was mounting werewolf heads in my parlor while you were still wetting nappies.” She smirked at him, daring him to argue with the queen mother.
The guard opened his mouth to say something then stopped and glanced at the others. One guard shook his head slightly and the young one bowed to her and turned away.
Hyacinth heard a whimper from their right and an answering low yip from the left that an inexperienced ear would have missed.
“Gird up your loins boys and tighten formation.” The experienced guards moved as she instructed, the young one a step behind with a look that said he didn't know why the others were listening to her.
Wolves, the size of moose stepped from the shadows of the treeline. Emerging from the forest as though they were made of shadows themselves. The young guard startled.
Hyacinth frowned. Her son had stopped training against werewolf attacks just before he opened Irren's boarders to Adelli. Now Hyacinth had a liability on her hands unless the boy started obeying orders. She ignored the warning pang from her hip as she dropped into a defensive stance.
The wolves stayed at the edge of the treeline, watching. What were they doing? She hadn't missed the tone of that call, it was to attack. Hyacinth took a deep breath, leaning into the rush of energy that invigorated her little used limbs. It settled over her like a favorite sweater.
"This day will be your last!" She yelled.
The new guard shot her a look.
The wolves started towards them. Good. She focused on the leader. He was an impressive one with muscles easily visible under his shiny, thick fur. He was larger by a couple hundred pounds and darker than the others. She gripped her knife and angled it, blade up. She'd take the big one out right in the soft spot on it's chin if her hip didn't give out on her.
The six wolves stopped just out of reach of the spears, a wall of giant beasts in a semicircle around them.
She sensed the pack's next move a moment before they bounded forward. Her command, “Strike!” was lost in the snarls.
The soldiers weapons were knocked aside and the men picked up in giant jaws up and carried off into the woods. Which left her alone with the leader.
Light, please keep Grenowin safe.
They watched each other, then Hyacinth strode forward and raised her knife. The wolf was even bigger up close.
It moved with causal ease and batted her knife away in an instant.
She stepped back out of instinct and stumbled as her hip gave way. Down she went. Her mind playing the wolfs finishing move in her mind as she scrambled to stand up. At least her her sacrifice might change her son’s mind about peace with werewolves.
She couldn't stand so she stayed on the ground and looked up.
The wolf was sitting, head tilted curiously.
Was it...playing with her? She kept her eyes on the beast and carefully got to her feet, aware of the dropped spear only a yard away. She shifted her weight to get closer to it.
“Old lady not a menu preference?” She slapped her thigh, “I’m well seasoned.”
The wolf sneezed.
She lunged for one of the fallen spears.
The wolf sprang forward and batted the spear farther away. They were inches apart now.
If it was her time, she wanted to go now. She'd finally be with her George in the Light’s Paradise. She screamed and lifted her bare fist to strike the beast. She saw a flash of teeth and braced for pain. None came. Instead, she found herself held gently in its mouth. One of her arms was pinned and she could feel sharp teeth through her day gown.
"Too cowardly to eat me?" She spat, working to master her stomach. Its breath was month old venison rubbed in rotted fish.
The wolf turned and loped into the trees. Branches whacked her exposed head and her boots.
“Going to dishonor me by fighting me unarmed?” She said and dry heaved. “If you’d met me alone in the woods with a spear I would’ve walked home carrying your head.”
Her captor didn’t slow. He didn’t even squeeze her like he so desperately wanted to. Nothing he’d ever hunted had made this much noise.
They met up with the other wolves. Their mouths were empty.
Hyacinth shut her mouth, eyes hot. Those poor men.
The pack waded through the Knallie river, the teal border between Adelli and Irren.
She wondered where were taking her.
“The heads of your mother and father are likely the matching pair above my chamber pot.” She tried. She wished to end this now instead of ending up as a meal later. So she kept at the insults and couldn’t help but be impressed by the control of the werewolf who held her.
No one had ever returned alive after being carried off. They were either found in tatters the next day or their remains never found. Tears ran down her face, she swiped at them angrily with her one free hand. The jarring motion of the wolfs stride was making her back rub uncomfortably against its teeth.
She stopped the insults when they started the climb into the giant hills. The Adellian side of the Knallie was a bramble of maples and brush, terrain she'd never been in. The forest was dense and held a heaviness. At most Irren sported a few small forests of thin trees only a fool could get lost in.
A while later she was suddenly dropped into meadow grass. She rolled so that she was laying on her back and the blue sky filled her vision. The arm that had been pinned was asleep and she rubbed it and grimaced at how badly her body ached.
Drool soaked her bodice and part of her skirt. Her hip felt like it was on fire. She made herself sit up, then stand. She was determined to go out with dignity if they had something nasty planned next.
She pushed loose hair out of her eyes and cringed as she smeared the drool across her face.
"My dearest Queen."
She jumped, then winced as her hip protested. She knew that voice.
She glared at the werewolves sitting sedately in a group not far off. They all but ignored her as they napped or played with each other. One small gray wolf gnawed a bone, she grimaced. There was a cliff just beyond a few scrub trees on her other side. The forest they’d arrived from was at her back.
She looked back at the wolves and nearly jumped when she saw King Leon striding towards her.
He was smiling. His face tan and smooth tan. No wrinkles for him then. He looked thirty, nearly the same as when she'd met him. She knew he was near two-hundred though, give or take a decade. Had he gained some muscle since then? He certainly looked like he lifted boulders all day.
"King Leon." She stood straight. "My son made a law welcoming all monsters into Irren. We could’ve had tea in my parlor while your fellows ate my guards."
Leon clasped her hands in his firmly and looked her over as though to see if she were alright. “You’re laws have never bound me.”
She blinked, startled when she met his eye. There was no doubt who the Alpha was when you met Leon’s eyes. Even if he tried to mask it with a easy smile.
She huffed and tried to step back but he held her fast which she was grateful for because he hip had nearly given out again. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the saliva from her face gently. "Would you have agreed to meet?”
She pursed her lips. “Why should I meet with a monster?”
He smirked and then turned and gently led her over to a seat beside a large fire pit. The camp had no other furniture or tents set up, though there were a few travel bags near the trees. The chairs were wicker with cushions. How such fine chairs had gotten to a small meadow in the middle of the forest, she hadn't a clue.
She sat, only staying down because the pillows felt like paradise.
He sat in the chair a foot from hers and leaned towards her. Why were werewolves unaware of others private space? He took one of her hands again.
She realized he was not forcibly holding it and snatched it back.
“I am no longer queen.” She said, realizing as he foggy feeling brains started to clear, that she wasn't to be eaten after all. She was being treated as a guest. Meals likely weren't pampered. What did Leon want with her then? She kept thinking of the letter but pushed the idea that he'd kidnapped her out of love away.
“I know you gave the crown to your son.” He said, hands clasped in his lap as though they were having a nice visit tucked in a cozy parlor.
If he had kidnapped her because of those letters, not that he had, but if he did, then he had no brain. Did he think she'd be grateful to him? As if she'd forget his murders and the war he'd started? Perhaps he wanted to use her against her son. Yes. It made the most sense.
“If you have state matters to discuss, you should direct your concerns to my soft hearted son. It will do no good to try and use me against him, you'll get nothing of it. I am a loyal Light fearing woman.”
“Your fire will always draw me like a moth.” He said, eyes crinkled in amusement.
Hyacinth raised a brow. “Did you bring me all the way out here to torture me with more of your poetry? Now I wished your fellows had eaten me like the guards. Or like they ate my sister."
Leon's brows shot up in amusement and he barked a laugh.
“How dare you.” She hissed, eyes growing hot with frustration and grief.
Another burst of laughter made her rise from her seat to strike him.
“Your younger sister is well!" He held up both hands in defense.
She frowned, hand still raised to hit him.
He eyed her hand. “The guards are all alive as well. Having a bit of a nap.”
She blinked, too tired and angry to think straight.
"Please sit.”
“My sister is well?” Hyacinth stared. "I saw it bite my sister. The werewolf-"
"-my cousin Ren."
Hyacinth blinked again.
“He has a name. It’s Ren.”
Hyacinth narrowed her eyes, lowered her hand, and sat. "I saw that monster snatch her up in his teeth. She screamed. She was bleeding.” She shook her head at the memory, pain pouring from that open wound in the center of her heart that had only widened when her parents and then George passed away.
She glanced up at Leon who looked thoughtful, "He probably scratched her a bit on accident. Humans are fragile things." He shook his head, "I should have brought him along! They eloped. You'll have to have her tell you her story.”
She didn't believe him even though he looked back at her steadily.
"She wouldn't do that to me." She whispered.
Leon watched her face, looking somber.
"No. I can't believe you. You've brought me out here for something evil. What could you possibly want to discuss with me?" She snapped it, hating how he seemed to be drawing out whatever he'd planned to do with her. "You are a monster toying with its food.” She felt some satisfaction at the sadness in his eyes. “Holding me ransom will not get you gold or favor from Irren."
The king nodded once in a way that said he understood her, "You are correct, you are not worth much in gold. It’s not Irren’s favor I seek.”
She swallowed, heart seeming to drop into her stomach. He wasn't serious. She frowned and studied his face carefully. Did this werewolf find her, an old woman, attractive? She wasn't sure if she should be flattered or alarmed.
She opened her mouth to ask him but he turned towards his pack, “Go and get Madeline."
Two wolves got up and bounded into the woods.
"My sister?" Hyacinth breathed. No.
“I know you burned my letters.” He leaned forward, voice low. “I also know those nights you read them.”
He had an odd expression on his face that she recognized. Love.
Her heart twisted uncomfortably with grief and bewilderment. She had read the letters a few times. On her darkest nights. But how did he know? She was unable to hold his stare so she looked at the trees.
"We cannot proceed to why I brought you here until the matter of your not-dead sister is settled.” He sat back. "There is a stream if you'd like to refresh yourself there while you wait." The king gestured towards the woods.
She stared at him, feeling numb. “Refresh myself?” She said each word slowly. “While you fetch my sister.”
“We have clothes and soap." He gestured and a werewolf with a pack in its mouth trotted over and dropped it at her feet.
She wanted to refuse then laugh at how ridiculous all of this was. Yet some part of her believed him. In the end, she decided being smelly wouldn't accomplish anything. She'd been cringing from the smell since she’d arrived.
She stood, grabbed the pack, and walked in the direction he'd pointed. Leon wasn't following her she was glad to see when she paused at the treeline to look back. He filled the chair, a giant of a man, and stared at his hands expression distant.