Chapter 6 #2
In contrast to the opulence of the palace, the chapel’s beauty is subdued.
Two rows of wooden pews lead up toward a marble altar.
The floor is smooth stone and the walls are undecorated.
The architectural centerpiece is a spectacular stained glass window.
Each panel depicts a vivid figure against a backdrop of sea-green glass, which casts the room in a hazy glow.
It’s not an unsettling color; I’m reminded of sunlight when viewed from underwater.
Dominating the space is a lone worshipper kneeling at the altar with a fur-lined cloak sprawled behind her like magpie wings. The woman, who I assume is Queen Davina, stands at our approach.
Roburn stops a few paces short of her and bows. “Your Majesty, as requested, please allow me to present Lyria of the Ironwoods.”
“Thank you, Captain Roburn,” says the queen, with a cursory nod. Then her eyes dart to me. Something tells me she’s awaiting it, so I jerk an attempt at a curtsy. Amusement twitches her lips.
“Lyria. Welcome. I’m so glad you’ve arrived safely. My son has told us so much about you. Please. Join me.” She gestures for me to sit beside her in a pew.
I take a few tentative steps, earning a better look at her features.
The queen is wearing makeup, something I’ve never seen close-up before.
Her skin looks expertly painted. Her eyelashes are darker than natural and her cheeks flushed.
Her body has the generous shape and soft lines of someone who has never done physical labor.
I’m drawn to studying her hands, which are remarkably smooth and adorned with long painted nails.
Something about her sloped shoulders and the dark hair piled around her neck reminds me of a bear.
I find something of Finn in her mouth and the sharp set of her brows.
She’s beautiful. Her expression doesn’t waver as I edge closer.
She looks placid and benevolent—very deliberately so.
“I hope that your journey was pleasant. Is this your first time in Crown City?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I answer, with a nervous glance back at Roburn. He’s moved back toward the wall, watching impassively.
“Well, we’re very glad to have you.” The queen gazes up at the stained glass. “I hope you’ll forgive our unusual scenery. I prefer worshipping here in the afternoons when there’s no one to bother me.”
“I don’t mind. Your Majesty,” I add quickly.
She smiles. “There’s no need to be overly formal. We’re all equal in the eyes of the Almighty.”
At the mention of the deity, I stiffen. I know little about the Verdish Church, except that their customs vary greatly from Elven ones.
They don’t keep with the Gods like Elowyn, Nocturn, or Rashielle, the first mothers of magic.
Instead, they believe there’s only one God, whom they call the Almighty, and they’ve used him to justify heinous, heinous things.
“Captain Roburn, would you please fetch Cygnus?” the queen asks.
Roburn nods and dips into a low bow before leaving the chapel. I feel like sinking into the floor. Something about being alone with the queen feels like I’ve swapped one cage for another.
When her gaze falls back on me, I stammer the first question that comes to mind. “W-where’s Finn?” Catching my mistake, I amend: “I mean, Prince Finneas?”
The queen waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, whoever knows. I imagine he’s off riding, or maybe in town. It’s hard to keep up with Finneas. He’s very free-spirited.”
“Oh” is all I can say as disappointment washes over me anew. Finn’s letter claimed he was attending to responsibilities. Did he really just…lie?
“I’ve been told we owe you a great debt,” the queen says serenely. “Finneas spoke highly of your abilities. He told me you’re training to be a Healer?”
“That’s right.”
“Where are you studying?”
“My mother teaches me.”
“How charming. What’s her name?”
I hesitate. What’s the danger in a name? “Melia Fletcher,” I finally tell her.
The queen’s mouth twitches, but her expression is quickly replaced by another smile. “And she was traveling when you found Finneas, correct? Where was she exactly?”
I squirm a little, admitting, “I’m not quite sure, Your Majesty. That’s partly why I came. My mother was traveling to investigate rumors about a plague. I think it’s probable she was investigating the same one Finn alluded to in his letter.”
She nods gently. “I’m sure your mother would be very proud of the courage you’ve shown.”
I swallow, imagining Mother returning to the empty cottage and realizing what I’ve done. Proud is the last thing she’ll be.
But the queen interrupts the thought. “Lyria, what I’m about to tell you is a matter that pertains to the life or death of thousands of people,” she says, in a low, measured voice.
“Everything I disclose in this room must be kept in utmost confidence. Only the king, my sons, and select military advisors are aware of this information. If word gets out, it would cause utter chaos across Verdinae, and we cannot risk that in these desperate times. Do you understand?”
I waver, feeling doubt creep in. It’s a few seconds before I finally ask, “Why?”
“Why?” she echoes.
“Why did you choose me, Your Majesty?” It’s the most honest question I’ve let myself ask, one that’s troubled me since I opened Finn’s letter. “There are any number of apothecaries and Healers in the kingdom. You could have summoned anyone.”
She reaches out and takes my hands. The intimacy feels bizarre, but I manage not to recoil.
Her bright blue eyes search mine, completely earnest. “Because you had the courage to help a total stranger. Do you know how rare that kind of heart is? You are a very special girl, Lyria. Experience comes to everyone with time, but character is born.” Her hands squeeze mine.
“You proved yourself to Finneas, and I trust my son’s judgment.
In this, our direst of hours, I have faith that you’ll prove yourself to me, too. ”
Something unlatches in my chest. As the queen’s words wash over me like summer sun, they rouse some shred of self-belief that I long ago buried.
Has she really just summoned me because she believes I can do it?
Is it really so impossible that the queen sees me as I see myself…
as someone far more capable than I’ve ever been given credit for?
I ask, “What exactly do you need me to do?” I feel, finally, as bold as I sound.
“For months now, the king and I have been fighting to contain a terrible plague that we believe was created as a weapon by our enemies in Ursandor,” she explains, her voice dropping into a hush.
“This disease is a horror like nothing our Healers have ever seen. It kills indiscriminately. We don’t know how it spreads.
What we do know is that it can wipe whole villages off the map.
If it were to reach Crown City, the fallout would be catastrophic.
There wouldn’t be enough able-bodied to bury the dead. ”
“That sounds horrific.”
“It is. It will be.” Her voice wobbles. “We’ve got to stop it, or else it could kill everyone in Verdinae.
” For the first time, Queen Davina actually looks vulnerable.
“We’ve managed to keep the disease from spreading by implementing a strict quarantine on the infected area.
We’ve got hundreds of soldiers dispatched to enforce it; we’re doing everything we can, but we won’t be able to hold it back forever. We need a cure.”
My head whirls, finally making sense of Mother’s plans. If she heard about a quarantine zone where people were dying, she’d absolutely want to investigate—and the delay must be because she is still working out a cure.
I’ll beat her to it.
My body tingles at the prospect. Can I do it? I begged my mother for an opportunity to prove myself. And here, the most spectacular of opportunities has walked through my door. I can’t deny the serendipity.
“I understand.” I nod to the queen. “I can travel to the village and start working immediately.”
“Oh, no. That isn’t possible.” She withdraws her hands.
My brow furrows. “Why not?”
“As I said, we’ve implemented a strict quarantine.
It won’t be necessary for you to travel into the infected region.
Our previous apothecary was working intently on developing a cure before his passing.
We’ve been assured he was on the brink of a breakthrough.
All you should need to do is dot the i ’s and cross the t’s, so to speak. ”
A new wave of doubt washes over me. How can I cure something I can’t study? But the queen’s expression leaves no room for argument.
She goes on. “We’ll put you up in the tower in the East Wing.
There’s a comfortable chamber I hope you’ll find to your liking.
Officially, you’ll be titled the royal apothecary, and you can assist our Head Healer if he has any pressing matters he needs you to attend to.
But you’ll report your work on the cure directly to me.
You’ll have every resource at your disposal.
If there’s an ingredient you need, or a tool we can source for you… one word, and I’ll see that it’s done.”
My chest swirls with inadequacy. Perhaps Queen Davina knows it, because she reaches out and cups my face with her palm. I shiver.
“I know that this work is a massive burden for anyone to carry. But I would not ask it of you if I didn’t believe you were capable.” Her eyes shine. “Nothing happens for nothing. The Almighty put you in my son’s life for a reason. I believe it’s because you were born to do this work.”
Her confidence triggers a swell of hope. I stammer out my reply. “I—I don’t think I can make any promises, but I can do my best, Your Majesty.”
“That’s all we ask. Thank you, Lyria. Thank you. Brave, clever girl.” She kisses my forehead. “You are a gift from the Almighty.”
A door clicks behind us, and her gaze dips. “Ah, Cygnus, here you are. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”