5. Verena
Verena
"Your Majesty? How frightfully pale you have become! You look ill enough to faint," Schultz points out.
I am feeling ill.
Because the three Favored I accidentally killed yesterday despised Queen Rhinestone, and made it sound like everyone else they knew wanted to see her dead. If she didn't care about the feelings of the guys in her harem and was still making them get hot and heavy with her…
"Allow me in at once so you can take a seat and we shall—"
Schultz is trying to step through the doorway again. I plant my non-injured hand on his chest to stop him.
"Dismiss all the Favored."
Schultz blinks rapidly at me. "I don't understand what you mean."
"How about exactly what I just said, word for word?"
As much as I applaud the fact that Rhinestone was a woman in power and this world isn't just a bunch of old kings with a trillion forlorn concubines and neglected children, the queen is more evil than I realized if she was keeping a group of lovers who would rather not be with her.
I'm a paragon of explicit, excited consent—what else could I be, after the shit I've been through?
This needs to be fixed right away.
"Go dismiss them," I insist. "Right now."
The chamberlain scoffs, straightening the fur around his shoulders.
"Clearly, your Favored have earned your ire in some way.
But my queen, be reasonable and let them beg their way back into your good graces.
You have these men sworn to secrecy. They're at your beck and call, filling the responsibilities that ladies' maids would for queens in other kingdoms. They're quite useful. "
"I don't care. Go—"
He talks over me again. "And don't forget, they are also of great political value to Isenmere. They hail from noble houses who will be insulted if they're dismissed. Consider the political connections, honor, and prestige that come from joining your retinue—"
Schultz is clearly on a roll that's not about to stop, so I let Clark Gable's line explode from me.
"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."
"But—"
"Not buts. I swear on the coffee I wish I was drinking right now that if you don't go dismiss every single Favored right away, the executioner will be chopping off your head before noon."
His mouth drops open. "You're threatening me? I'm your chamberlain. You know very well that Isenmere Castle cannot run without me!"
I doubt that. In my experience, shady guys like this are usually standing on the merits of unseen others. He probably just takes all the credit.
"How many Favored are there, anyway?"
I feel like I have to ask, even though I'm sure I'll hate the answer.
"Eleven, at the moment, but you did say you were eager to encounter Aurefeld's spare prince if the opportunity ever presents itself.
He is six years younger than Your Majesty, but is rumored to be quite handsome, just as you prefer them," he says, like we're talking about favorite ice cream flavors.
Yep, I hate it.
"How the hell is the queen not pregnant constantly, bouncing between all those dicks?" I'm so askance that I can't stop the question. "Is magical birth control a thing here?"
Schultz coughs much harder this time, trying to wave off my practical question.
"Your Majesty, really. You must be feeling quite ill to ask such strange questions.
You're famously quite barren, of course.
But as I've told you, the late king's daughter is heir enough in Isenmere's eyes that your condition poses no threat to your place on the throne.
Until the princess marries, you shall remain queen, so you are free to enjoy as many Favored as you wish. "
"I don't wish to enjoy them. I want them dismissed, right now." I wave him on impatiently. "Go. Shoo."
"But Your Majesty, think of the political ramifications!"
Steeling my back, I look firmly into Schultz's beady eyes. He's barely my height, since I've always been a little on the tall side.
"What do you value more, political connections or your head staying right where it is?"
Irritation flickers in his gaze before he gives me another freakishly wide smile.
"As you wish. I'll send all the current Favored away. Shall I summon the other men you have considered adding to your retinue in the past? I'm sure they will be eager to please you."
I love sex as much as anyone—but hooking up with guys who are only willing to dick down the queen for political gain?
"Hell, no. No more Favored."
"What? Your Majesty, in all the time I've been your chamberlain, you have always had Favored to entertain you.
You loathe the long assemblies required to run the kingdom, and you've little interest in other hobbies.
What precisely is going on with you? Even for your sporadic moods, to which I am accustomed and will of course always be patient through, you are behaving most strangely. "
Now this asshole is trying to endear himself to me by pretending he's the only one who could possibly put up with this sporadic mood—a.k.a., advocating for what I want.
I'm guessing this is a go-to for him when dealing with the real queen. He's probably made himself indispensable to her, so she's simply let him run the kingdom. Considering how shitty and self-absorbed she seems to have been, maybe that was for the best.
But I'm here now, and until I find a way home, things are going to run differently. Maybe I'll even change the evil queen's reputation into something palatable before I go.
Starting with getting rid of this fucker and putting Merrick back where he deserves to be.
Before I can tell this guy to hit the road, a man dressed in servants' clothes appears in the hallway behind Schultz, wheeling a table full of covered plates. When he sees that I'm not veiled, he averts his gaze, bowing deeply.
"There you are. Don't you know what happened to the last dunce who brought the queen's food to her late?" Schultz scolds. "She had him whipped and locked in a public pillory in Isenhold for three days with no food."
Wow. Rhinestone sounds like a delight.
"F-forgive me, Y-your Majesty," the servant stammers, almost on the verge of tears as he remains bent over.
Yep, it's officially time for the queen's reputation to get a makeover.
"I'm actually not hungry this morning," I lie brightly. "So take that back to the kitchen for everyone there to share."
The truth is, I'm starving and still so fucking thirsty that it's hard to concentrate on much else. But I'm not ready to think about the thirst thing yet, and I'm not sure if I trust the food here.
Schultz looks at me sharply. "You must eat, my queen."
"So bossy. Go on, take a bite of everything and see if someone tried to poison me again."
He clamps his mouth shut, his cheeks turning ruddy. "A-again? I don't know what you mean."
He's not very good at lying.
I'm getting really tired of this guy questioning, second-guessing, and challenging every word that comes out of my mouth. Maybe after I meet the Huntsman, I can track down Merrick and beg him to please bring some kindness and common sense back to the castle.
The servant wheels the table back out of the hall like his ass is on fire as I get Schultz to tell me the Huntsman is waiting in the chapel of the castle. Even though I don't know exactly where that is, I call the chamberlain a "doll" for all his help and shut the door in his sputtering face.
It's more than a little satisfying.
After a lot more weeding through the queen's disappointing options inside her wardrobe—except for the gauzy sheer veils, which aren't bad—I open the single door in Rhinestone's room, hoping it will lead to a more promising closet.
Instead, it's a medieval-looking bathroom. The large vanity in one corner is covered in stained-glass jars, tinctures, a jeweled comb, and candelabras.
A silver crown rests on a velvet cushion beside another veil. For a moment, I admire its elegant slopes and points.
"Not bad," I muse aloud.
Otherwise, this is just a small, windowless stone room with one unlit sconce mounted above a hole in a stone bench. I have no idea where it leads, but it's safe to say plumbing is not a thing here.
Gross.
But hey, at least I don't have to share a tiny stone toilet room with Schultz and everyone else living in this castle.
Ten minutes later, I'm ready for the day. I've combed my hair and tried out one of the tinctures, which turned out to be a lotion. I found dark velvet slippers to wear. I've also thrown on a new chemise with a light cream dress over it.
Out of everything in the wardrobe, this was the least offensive option, even though it's completely shapeless. I'm surprised Rhinestone seems to give zero shits about her clothing, considering how well-dressed and appearance-obsessed her subjects are.
Although from everything Schultz told me, maybe she just spent a lot of time naked.
Like…a lot of time.
On the bright side, bras don't seem to be a thing in this world. As someone who personally loathes bras, especially those fucking underwire torture chambers, I consider that a plus.
With a sheer blue veil over my face and the crown anchoring it atop my head, I take a deep breath and leave the queen's rooms.
Time to meet the Huntsman and get Snow White back.
After getting lost in vaulted stone hallways filled with ornate stained glass windows for an embarrassing amount of time, I get another terrified manservant to give me directions to Isenmere Castle's chapel.
Descending a long staircase into a small upper courtyard, I turn right into a new hall, cross a short stone bridge, take another turn, descend another staircase—
"Jeez, no wonder the real queen rarely left the castle," I gripe to myself. "Even she was probably intimidated by this damn labyrinth."
Finally, I reach a set of beautifully carved double doors. Slipping inside, I take a second to admire the pretty space.
The chapel is filled with polished wooden pews.
Winged, horned statues of faeries line the room's perimeter.
I recognize Ayna at the front, smiling into another mirror with more offerings at her feet.
Behind her, the entire back wall of the chapel is made of stained glass depicting a weeping goddess and three hooded figures.
But my attention is quickly drawn to the man in here who turns around to face me.
All at once, my dwindling hopes that this is all just some far-fetched product of my brain reignite—because are you kidding? This tall, broad-shouldered, Viking-like beast of a man is exactly what I'd expect my horny lizard brain to supply for an incoming wet dream.
A face that belongs on the big screen? Check.
Brows drawn down over ice-blue eyes? Check.
Dark blond hair with small braids throughout it but shorn on one side, a bit of facial hair, a few scars that just add to the rugged sexiness, blue rune-like tattoos all over one of his muscular tree trunk arms…
Check, check, triple check.
Hubba, hubba.
I'm not sure if the Huntsman has noticed I'm practically drooling over him, since he also seems briefly distracted. He takes one step toward me and lifts his chin slightly before frowning even more, his lips turning down.
"Why do you smell like this?"
Mmm-hmm, yep. That's exactly the kind of Hemsworth-level voice I would imagine him having, if this was about to turn into a sex fantasy.
But since I'm ninety-five percent sure this isn't a dream, and since I'm supposed to be an evil fairytale queen, I try to rein in my lady boner.
What did this tall drink of water just say, again?
Oh, god. I think he said I smell.
"Of course I do," I sigh, my ego bruised. "That's my kind of luck. I'm meeting a sexy Viking, so I just had to have the fastest sponge bath ever in a world that probably hasn't discovered deodorant."
The Huntsman's furrowed brow remains, but any amount of puzzlement that was just mixed into his expression melts away until all that remains is…a frigid glare.
I repeat, this rugged hunk is glaring daggers at me.
Now that I'm not distracted by how ridiculously sexy he is, it's getting more and more clear how downright murderous he looks. It's the same level of scathing hatred I felt from that kid yesterday—like I'm the devil incarnate.
Is he insulted that I called him a Viking? What else could I have possibly done to make him look at me like this?
The Huntsman takes another step toward me, a wordless threat.
My heart, which was feeling a little loopy a second ago, starts to beat harder as I notice the gleaming axe hanging from his hip. A knife is sheathed at his belt. I swallow, wondering if I completely misread this entire meeting.
Didn't the Three Stooges say the queen hired this guy? I thought that meant he was working for me, but...maybe Schultz or someone else hired him to kill me instead.
Am I just being paranoid, like the doctors always say I am?
"You'll pay for your cruelty with your life," the Huntsman finally promises, his glare burning me. "But first, you will suffer."
Nope, not paranoid. It's officially time to go.
Turning, I bolt toward the doors—
But a strange wave of something invisible sweeps over me. It's like electricity one moment and a tranquilizer the next. Before I know it, the chapel with all its statues and stained glass is swallowed up in darkness.