You shrug. If Constance insists you’re a bard, then you guess you’re a bard.
“Fine, I am a bard. Bring me a lute and I’ll serenade you from dusk to dawn,” you promise with whimsical sarcasm.
“That would be pleasant indeed.” A new voice enters the conversation, a low, feminine voice that holds a great deal of amusement. You turn to see what can only be the queen standing at the entrance to her chambers and though you’ve already opened your mouth for another sarcastic comeback, you find yourself simply standing there wordlessly with your mouth open as you look at her. She is everything you imagined she would be, and yet entirely different at the same time.
Physically, she is every inch the monarch. Her dark black robes, inscribed with silver trim are draped off her tall, strong frame and reveal a full bosom, not to mention a taut, trim figure underneath.
It is her face that renders you speechless though. Long dark hair frames the deepest gray eyes you’ve ever seen, eyes that don’t just look through you, but which seem to draw you in and embrace you. She’s not smiling, but you feel instantly warm in her presence. As she looks at you, you feel the fear you’ve been carrying around since waking up in this strange place melt away in her gaze.
“Queen Rael, this is Cade,” Constance says, placing a hand on your shoulder. “She has a rather strange tale to tell.”
“I should imagine one who has a taste for drapery would do,” Rael remarks with dry restraint.
Without so much as cracking a smile at the Queen’s mild jest, Constance raps out a report. “She claims she is not from these lands, and it would seem that she is not. Her clothing is certainly not of any design I have ever seen, her speech is strange and she appears to be entirely unused to discipline of any kind.”
“Unused to discipline? I do not know if that is such a foreign trait,” Rael remarks. “By the by, was it Kai I saw falling out of the window earlier?”
“It was, your majesty,” Constance affirms.
“I shall have to have a word with Miss Kai,” Rael says decisively, looking thoughtfully out the window. Something in her tone sends a tingle up your spine. You’re pretty sure she’s not going to be having just words with Kai, and you find yourself feeling a little envious of the relationship that clearly exists between the queen and the reckless renegade you met briefly.
“But in the meantime, we must decide what to do with you,” she turns her attention back to you. “What shall we do with you?” The question is rhetorical, of course, but you feel a strong impulse to answer it.
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