Azurite (Daughter of the Mountain Book 1) (3 page)

“Then I suggest you find somewhere else to dig!” she roared, her eyes suddenly illuminated with rage.  Evangeline turned around and stomped back to her dais, as if their sudden presence was annoying her.  Her constant mood changes went up and down like the sun and always left her advisors flustered. 

“Leave me, all of you,” she commanded with a wave of her hand.  “I have said all I needed to, and I think we understand what needs to happen.  We will reconvene in two days time, and I expect a resolution to be reached.” 

All four men glanced nervously at each other then hurriedly rose and stumbled out of the room, not glancing back at the Queen who sat fuming on her throne.

***

Major Vincent Lowe, the Queen’s personal Guard, walked briskly through the cold halls of the fortress Mizra.  In the pocket of his riding jacket was a leather cylindrical case containing a confidential message addressed to Queen Evangeline.  She had sent him out early that day to the perimeter of Samaria, past the outpost towers, to meet an anonymous emissary that the Queen said could be spotted by his unusual soldier uniform.  The man was waiting for Vincent on horseback, garbed in riding gear with a bow and quiver of arrows strapped across his back.  He handed the message over without reluctance saying only that the Queen would most likely want to meet with him after reading what was inside.

“I will make camp a little further inward where the forest makes better cover.  If you need me, that’s where I’ll be, until tomorrow at sunset,” the stranger explained.  The Queen’s personal Guard only nodded at this and tucked the leather cylinder into the inner pocket of his jacket before turning around and retreating back to the fortress.

Vincent thought about this strange encounter as he quickly approached the legislature quarters of Mizra.  He was surprised to see the forms of the Queen’s advisors huddled together outside the door talking fervently amongst themselves, completely unaware that Vincent was in hearing distance. 

“This whole situation is more than disturbing!” Ambrose yelled once the council room doors were firmly shut.  “Does anyone else find it unnerving that the Queen has been privately colluding with an enemy of our country?  For several years now!  If it
was
for the genuine welfare of Samaria, don’t you think she would’ve wanted us to know?  And I don’t care what anyone says, Olger and his people are dangerous.  Something foul is going on.  I can smell it.”  He crinkled up his nose as if he could smell the stench of deception. 

“You heard what she said,” Talan countered defensively.  “The Queen felt she had no choice in the matter.  She did what she had to for the sake of us all.”  His response initiated snickers from both Ambrose and Arvil.

“Your youth and inexperience speak for themselves,” Ambrose continued.  “There are other options, other countries we could have reached out to that would have helped us during these trying times.  But she overstepped the logical choice and went straight to Olger!”

“Ambrose, don’t be so naive?” Brutus spoke up from behind Talan.  “I can’t think of anyone that would be overly zealous about helping
our
Queen.  She’s about as friendly as a cornered badger when it comes to accepting political alliances.  I can’t even remember the last time a noble from any other country has even visited Samaria.  She practically has to be dragged to the annual summit of the Sovereign Alliance.” 

Ambrose didn’t reply but continued to sop up the sweat beading his forehead.  He knew that Brutus was right.  “I’m just suggesting that we think for ourselves now,” Ambrose defended, “and not just follow Queen Evangeline’s poor directions like witless fools.  Clearly she has fallen under the influence of Olger Guttensen, and it’s time to take things into our own hands.  Before they get worse.” 

The advisors all became silent as they saw Vincent approaching.  The folds of his long jacket arranged around his body made him look like a pious priest instead of a Samarian soldier.  As the Queen’s personal Guard, he was the only one in which she fully disclosed anything.  All of the advisors hence resented him and felt he couldn’t be trusted.  Vincent and his family had been serving the Winnser house for generations, and his loyalty to Evangeline went extremely deep.

“Ah, look who it is.  The Queen’s lap dog come to do her bidding,” Brutus taunted the other man.  Vincent stopped in front of the General and narrowed his eyes at him. 

“I suggest you put your tongue back in that loutish head of yours, General, if you want to be taken seriously.”  The words were barely out of Vincent’s mouth before a tree trunk sized arm hammered against his chest, pinning him to the wall.  Brutus’s rugged, unshaven face was inches from the other man’s.

“Don’t you EVER insult me, weasel,” Brutus breathed into his face, pressing harder onto Vincent’s sternum.  “I don’t trust you.  Our country is on the brink of collapse, and our dear Queen has given a known tyrant rights to our lands.  You don’t seem the least bit concerned.  Where were you today, huh?  How long have you known about this blasphemous agreement?”  Vincent squirmed underneath Brutus’s minatory hold.

“Remove your hand from me, or I shall have the Queen remove it for you. Permanently,” he threatened.  Brutus studied Vincent’s robust face then growled and released him, leaving the man gasping for air.  He looked over at the other advisors.

“Gentlemen, I’m out of here,” Brutus said.  “Let’s leave this rat to his scrounging.”  They all glanced at Vincent with disdain before following the General of Arms away from the council room door.

Vincent breathed in a sigh of relief as they departed.  He was getting too old for this.  Wincing as he stood up, the man rearranged his jacket to its correct position, patting the inner pocket to make sure the cylinder was still intact.  Upon entering the council room, he found Evangeline seated on her throne, her elbow perched on the armrest and her forehead nestled in the palm of her hand.  Her chocolate brown hair fell around her like a curtain.  At the sound of the creaking door hinges, she looked up.  Vincent gave her a low bow.

“Good, you’re back,” she said.  “Was the emissary where I said he would be?” 

“Aye, My Queen.  He chose not to depart but rather to stay on the perimeter.  He claimed you’d have reason to call upon him again.” 

Evangeline raised a single eyebrow at this.  Without wasting any time, Vincent kneeled in front of the Queen and pulled the leather cylinder from his pocket and placed it carefully in her feminine hand. 

Evangeline dumped out the contents of the canister revealing what looked like nothing more than a rolled up piece of parchment, but darker in color and completely opaque.  The Queen opened it up and turned it over in her hands, scrutinizing the front and back and feeling over it with no success.  She tipped the canister one more time and two rock-like objects rolled into her palm.  These she also looked over before placing them in her brassiere.

She rose from her seat and went over to the iron fire bowl standing at the bottom of the stairs.  Evangeline grabbed the oilskin sitting next to it and doused the moderate flame with excess oil.  She watched as the blaze leap out at her.  When the fire was at a desirable peak, she took the parchment and held it close to the flame, examining the inverted images of words as they appeared upon the page.  As she read, the words disappeared into a smear of heated ink as quickly as they appeared.  They ran down the parchment and dripped like black tears into the fire.  When she was done, she rolled up the blank parchment and placed it delicately back into the canister.

Vincent shook his head, entirely intrigued by what the Queen was involved in but to wise to question her about it.  Although the Queen’s advisors believed Evangeline was completely open with him about everything she did, it was still selective and on her own terms.

“My Queen,” Vincent began.  “There is something I wanted to suggest regarding the predicament with Olger Guttensen.”  Evangeline returned to her seat and placed her hands in her lap.

“I’m listening.”

“Have you considered offering Zora as payment for your debt?  It’s my understanding the Olger has no wife.  Surely the idea that their child will have claim to the Samarian throne might interest him?  Even though the Sovereign Alliance will never allow it to come to pass, he doesn’t know that.  Olger has nothing to do with the Alliance.  That way there will be no threat to our homeland, and the problem of your daughter will be taken care of.”

“That won’t suffice,” the Queen said flatly.  “The Noman rulers proclaim their power by conquest.  If one ruler is considered to be doing a poor job, another may challenge him.  If that man wins, he is accepted as their new ruler, give or take some conditions I’m sure.  It has nothing to do with entitlement by birth so to speak.  Zora’s ungrounded claim to the Samarian throne won’t sway him if he’s convinced he can take it by force instead.  That act of violence would be much more respected by his people than ascending to the throne through marriage alone.”

“All men desire power, My Queen,” Vincent remarked, “regardless of how they obtain it.”  Evangeline smiled knowingly. 

“That they do, Major Lowe.  But the plans I have for Zora are already decided.  After thinking long and hard about it, I feel it is the best course of action to take.  For one like her.”  Vincent nodded, although unsure himself about her decision.  He bit the inside of his hollow cheek.

“My Queen,” he ventured cautiously, “while I know that you are a diligent and prudent Queen, Zora
is
your only child
and
your only heir.  With no immediate marriage proposals of your own in the near future, I can’t help but question whether your plans for her are in the best interest of our country.”  Evangeline’s cold blue eyes turned hard when Vincent said this.

“I am following Samarian law as it pertains to succession, am I not, Major Lowe?” the Queen retorted curtly.

“Perhaps if we knew who the girl’s father was?” Vincent suggested quickly.  “Was he of another royal blood?  Certainly the law can be rewritten to accommodate such a circumstance.  Even if he wasn’t a noble, we can submit a request to the Sovereign Alliance.  That way your lineage will be secure…”  Vincent’s voice trailed off when he saw that Evangeline was becoming enraged. 

“Stop pummeling me with asinine questions!” she erupted at him.  “I was assaulted, Vincent!  By a lowlife scoundrel!  A nobody!  Why are you bringing this up when you already know everything that happened!”  She pounded her fist angrily on the throne’s armrests to emphasis her point. 

“Only a child conceived within the bond of marriage by two royal bloodlines can rule the Samarian throne.  That is how the law was written, and that is how it will remain.”  She leaned back in her throne and looked away from him to some unknown point of interest. 

“And Zora is far from that,” she added sadly.  “No offspring from such a vile person should ever be allowed to rule Samaria.  My parents would be ashamed.”  Vincent could see the Queen was perturbed, so he continued on even more heedfully.

“My Queen, the only reason I would bring up such a subject is because the Sovereign Alliance will most likely question any decision you make in denying Zora’s right as your heir.  You know their decision can override that of a single monarch if it is better for the Realm as a whole.”

“I have never been worried about their so called authority,” Evangeline responded angrily.  “I do with my Queendom as I see fit.  I don’t need a group of meddlesome, ignorant leaders interfering with how I rule Samaria.  If it had been left up to them, right now my despicable uncle would be ruling in my stead!”

  The young Queen paused for a moment, and she looked as though the weight of the world were suddenly pressing upon her shoulders.  She brushed her thick hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ears, thinking long and hard before she spoke.

“Vincent, let’s just forget this conversation shall we?  If you were any other person, I’d have thrown you into prison for speaking to me in such a manner.  There are events set in motion that cannot be undone, and your cooperation is vital to their success.”  Vincent had his head bowed down like a scolded child.

“Forgive me, My Queen,” he muttered.

“Forgiven,” she replied with a dip of her chin.  “Now, I need you to do two things for me.  First, fetch Master Leatherby.  Have him meet me in my personal chambers tonight after supper.  Then, return to the perimeter and let the emissary know I’ll meet with him tomorrow morning.  He will know where.  Make sure you are discreet about it.  Go now, please.”  Vincent bowed once more to his Queen as he stood up and departed, grateful to be out of her enraged and erratic presence.

***

             
That evening, Talan Leatherby sat on a small, plush bench outside the Queen’s chambers, waiting patiently for her to invite him inside.  He drummed his fingers nervously on his knee.  Having never heard of one being summoned to the Queen’s personal chambers before, Talan was apprehensive about what to expect.  He racked his brain but couldn’t think of any viable reason why Evangeline would want to see him on such short notice.  Hopefully she didn’t call him here to give a presentation about his plans for mining through the ice-covered rock to the north, because he honestly hadn’t had a chance to formulate one yet.  The last thing Talan Leatherby wanted to do was further anger the Queen.

Evangeline’s personal Guard, Vincent, stood statue-like next to him, glancing over periodically with a smirk as if Talan’s anxiety was amusing to him.  Just as Talan mustered up the courage to say something to him about it, the Queen’s chamber doors swung open, and she peered out.