Queen of Denial (15 page)

"What's all this shit?" Drew hissed. "I expected we'd be greeted with a parade."

"I told you not to leave Seamus in charge of the kingdom while you were away," Fitz sighed. "He's a good man, but he never could communicate with the people, and he complicates everything. He wants letters in triplicate before he'll buy pencils."

"I'm sorry about all this," Zarco said. "It's not much of a welcome. But if it's any conciliation, they couldn't know that it's you in this vehicle. The people love you, Taralin. They worship you. If they knew you were home, that knowledge would quiet even the most violent riot."

"Such a happy people," Van Gar said as some vegetable splattered on the front windshield. "I can tell by their enthusiasm that you really are the Queen here. I admit, Drew, that I had my doubts, but they're acting just like you do on free drinks night at the bar."

"And I was afraid they would all be as stuffy as Fuckto."

"I haven't seen such a riot since the police force went on strike," Fitz said. "Lord knows what Seamus has done in your absence."

"Whatever the problem is, you know the people will calm down and their rioting will turn to rejoicing as soon as they hear I have brought their Queen back to them."

Drew looked at Van."I don't remember it that way, do you?"

"No. I seem to remember us saving his royal ass about a half a dozen times." Van said.

Drew nodded."As long as my short term memory's not going as well."

They pulled the car into the spot indicated."But what if I don't want to park there?" Drew mumbled. As the gates shut them off from the mob in the street, they got out of the limo carefully. The soldiers fell at Drew's feet, and prostrated themselves.

"My Queen, I am your humble servant!" they said in unison.

Drew gave Van Gar a smug look.

"There's no place like home, Van. There's no place like home."

Drew didn't know how long she had slept. It might have been hours, or it might have been days. She yawned and stretched, loving the feel of the blue silk that enveloped her. She was warm. Not too hot, and not too cold, but just right. Where she lay was soft yet firm—and clean. As was she. None of this was very familiar, but she supposed you could get used to anything, if you had to. She stretched to her full length, and still felt very small laying in the middle of this ocean of a bed.

"Would Her Majesty like anything this morning?" asked a strange young woman.

Drew held her hand to her chest.

"Yes! How 'bout some fucking privacy! And don't ever do that again!" Drew screamed. "Damn, I'm sleepin' here in the buff because, stupid me, I thought I could have privacy in my own fucking room. If I wanted something, I'd go to the door and yell out, real loud like. 'Hey you peons, get me whatever the fuck it was.'"

The young woman looked more than a little shocked, then she bowed low.

"A million pardons, my Queen," she started to back out of the room.

"Hold on a second," Drew took a deep breath. God, she hated being nice before her coffee. "I'm sorry, I'm just not used to having strangers in my bedroom."

She looked around the elaborately decorated room, and grimaced. It was nice, but it really wasn't to her taste.

"God, who picked out this awful wallpaper?"

"You did, my Queen."

"Me? Purple flowers and pink bunnies? Oh, I don't think so!"

"The King has left your room just as it was the day you were abducted," The young woman assured her.

"My name is Drewcila. Who are you?"

"Drewcila, my Queen?"

"Yeah. Taralin is a suck name. Don't you think it's a suck name?"

"It's your Royal birth name, my Queen. The name . . ."

"Yeah, yeah. But don't you think it's a suck name?"

"My Lady, Queen, I have no concept of what 'suck' means."

It was Drew's turn to look shocked.

"You don't?"

"Well, I don't understand it the way you're using it."

"What's your name? That's twice I asked," Drew said impatiently.

"Margot."

"Are you married, Margot?"

"No."

"Do you have a boyfriend, then?"

"No."

"And do you know why that is, Margot?"

The girl shook her head no.

"Because you don't know what 'suck' is—that's why."

"Yes, my Queen."

Drew laughed heartily.

"My name is Drewcila, but everyone calls me Drew. Can you say that?"

"Drew."

"Very good. Now. Can that Queen shit, and quit bowing. It's going right to my head. So, why are you here?"

"I'm your dresser."

"Funny, you don't have any drawers!"

Drew laughed at her own joke—lame as it was. Margot just frowned."Everyone's a critic. So, Margot, where are my clothes?"

Margot held up a yellow satin gown with white fur trim.

"You're fucking kidding me, right?"

"Your mother picked it out for you. Your parents are here, and they are very anxious to see you."

Drew got up, pulling the sheet with her, and started pacing the floor.

"Parents," Drew sighed. The last thing she wanted to do was meet anyone else who insisted that she knew them. "Tell them I'm . . ."

It was Drew's curse that if she gave being sick as an excuse, she immediately started to run a fever. So she quickly dumped that excuse for the one she usually used instead. "Tell them I'm having sex."

"What?" Margot gasped.

Drew looked at the startled look on Margot's face. "Well, I suppose that old stand-by's outtah the question."

"Don't you want to see your parents, my Queen?"

The Queen gave her a hard look, and it took her several seconds to realize why.

"My . . . Drew."

Drew's features softened.

"No, I don't want to see them."

She flopped down on the bed, her face set in a pout.

"No, I don't. They're going to look at me expectantly. And when I don't jump up and down for joy, they're going to get this crushed look on their faces. Then they'll say with a big tear in their eyes. 'Don't you remember me? You used to spit your milk all over me.' Or, 'When you were little you were so cute, you used to chew on the pet zombit. Don't you remember?' It's more that I can take."

Margot had been completely filled in on the Queen's condition, and for that reason she hadn't told the Queen that they had been childhood friends who had grown up together and had no secrets from each other. But it had been hard not to. It hurt that there was no recognition in her friend's eyes, so she understood exactly what Drew was saying.

"You've got to see them sometime, Tara . . . Drew," Margot said softly.

"But does it have to be today? Can't it wait?" Drew felt suddenly lost and abandoned. In a strange place, surrounded by strange things, and strange people. She was surprised by who she asked for first.

"Where's my sister? Where's Stasha?"

"I would imagine that she's with your parents in the morning room."

"Morning room!" Drew scoffed. "Do we also have a noon, afternoon, and evening room? What about a just-thinking-about-morning room, or a not-quite-evening room?"

She ran her hands through her hair, and looked like she wanted to scream.

Margot giggled.

"Now you're laughing?"

"Not-quite-evening room!" Margot giggled again.

Drew shook her head. "Where's my crew?"

"They were given suitable quarters."

"Just great!" Drew had been so absorbed in taking care of her own needs to worry about where anyone else was going. When they didn't try to shove her in a room with Zarco, that had been good enough for her. She could imagine how these people's minds worked, and while she was sleeping in silk, Van and the human were probably sleeping in a drafty box somewhere.

"I want Van Gar put into one of the nicest rooms in the palace. He's not my step-an-fetch-em-boy, he's my Bud, my only friend. The only one I can trust now that I have had my life tossed into the hands of strangers. Van Gar is the only one who knows me, at least he's the only one who knows the same me I know."

She looked at the dress on the floor. "There is no way I am wearing that thing.

"You have a whole closet full of clothes. Stasha had all your clothes cleaned in anticipation of your return." Margot walked to the wall on the right and pushed a concealed button. There was an electrical hum, and twenty feet of silk-covered wall disappeared to expose twenty feet of closet filled with clothes.

Drew rubbed her hands together and trotted—naked—over to the closet, and started going through the outfits. "Cool hologram!"

She pulled out a purple gown, made a face and tossed it into the middle of the room. Thirty minutes later, there was a mountain of clothes in the middle of the floor, the closet was empty, and Drew was wearing a pair of black leather boots Margot had told her were for riding. Drew spun around.

"So, what do you think. Is it me?"

Margot giggled. "Can you not find a single thing to your liking?"

"I can't believe I would ever have worn such crap."

She looked at the bed sheet. "Oh well," she sighed, walked over and grabbed the blue length, then wrapped it around herself in toga fashion. She gazed into the twelve-foot mirror which graced the south wall.

"Divine! Simply divine! Whoever is your tailor?"

"You're not going to breakfast like that!"

"And why not? This is probably the most expensive piece of clothing I have ever worn. Well, that I remember, anyway." She twirled around vigorously, exposing rather more flesh than she believed would be considered proper.

"Well, maybe I should wear underwear. I wouldn't want to appear crude and uncultured."

Margot produced a pair of panties, and Drew slipped them on.

"Well, here I go. Off to meet Mummy and Daddy and all that good rot. Just show me to the just-after-morning-but-not-quite-noon room."

Margot chuckled. "Yes, of course. Would you like me to have these things disposed of?" She indicated the pile of clothes in the middle of the room.

"Disposed of? Are you nuts? Do you have any idea what the re-sale value on that shit is? Just leave it. It looks more homey now anyway."

Margot nodded and opened the door.

"This way, my Qu . . . Drew." She indicated the direction with the wave of her arm.

Drew looked at the expanse of hallway and the Royal Blue carpet that covered the floor. The whole castle seemed to be an odd mixture of the latest technologies and treasures of antiquity, one giant anachronism. Two huge guards fell in behind them. Drew looked them up and down quickly and winked at the cuter one.

"My, I certainly married well, didn't I?" Her question didn't want an answer, and Margot didn't give one.

"In here," Margot waved towards a door, then pushed the button that opened it.

Drew just stood there.

"You're very nervous, aren't you?"

Drew shrugged.

"They're very nice people, your parents. Your father can be a bit rigid, but he is really a push-over, and your mother . . . Well, she . . ." Margot couldn't lie to Taralin."Your mother can be a bit over-bearing, but she usually means well."

"Great, I have nothing in common with either one of them." Reluctantly, she followed Margot into the room.

Zarco got up from the chair he was sitting in, walked over and kissed her cheek, as if he had some right to.

She made a face and quickly wiped the kiss off.

He stiffened, and backed quickly away. "My dear, your parents, Lord and Lady Straight-laced."

The man was very tall and stern looking, as if he lived in constant fear of smiling and thereby breaking his stone face. The woman was short and plump and grinned broadly enough for both of them, but the grin seemed somehow forced and false. Her "sweetness", if it existed at all, was only skin deep, and probably wasted on people she cared nothing about. The one they called her mother ran to her and hugged her, and almost but not quite kissed her cheek.

"Oh, my darling, I thought we would never see you again."

"Lillith, you heard what the doctor said, she doesn't remember. Don't overwhelm her," the father person said.

Drew's stomach was starting to churn, and she felt as if she were going to hurl. She found herself searching for Stasha.