A Message Delivered #2
The rhythm of the waltz forced itself into her mind. No, not again. She gripped the top of the stall door so hard her knuckles turned white.
One-two-three, one-two—
Once more the scene swept away and the floor shifted beneath her feet. If she hadn’t been holding the stall door, she would have fallen. A moment of vertigo, and then everything righted itself and it was just her and Condor again, and the other horses, of course.
She patted Condor once more to feel the realness of him, to keep grounded and her mind in the present.
“I forgot about F’ryan’s message for Estora,” she told Condor. “I’d better give it to her.”
It was not the sort of message you relayed in a note, so when she returned to the castle, she sent a Green Foot runner with a request for a private audience.
Connly probably wouldn’t approve. A common messenger didn’t just request anything from the queen without going through proper channels, but then again, she was not just a common messenger but supposedly a member of the Eletian royal family.
Still, she didn’t expect to hear back from Estora any time soon.
She returned to her chamber to wash up. There was not much else to do for Daro had taken over the Rider accounts while she was gone, and Mara had kept her on light duty. She threw herself on her bed, wondering how to spend the last of her evening hours.
To her surprise, the runner knocked on her door a short time later.
That was quick.
“The queen says you will find her in the conservatory,” the boy said.
Very quick.
Karigan grabbed a longcoat from her wardrobe.
It happened to be the one the Eletians had made for her.
She wasted no time and set off. When she passed the ballroom doors to reach the conservatory, she picked up her pace until she was well away from them.
She needed no reminders of the Feast of Vendane massacre.
At the entrance of the conservatory, she was greeted with wafting harp music. A pair of Weapons she did not know well stood to either side of the doors as statuelike as any of their brethren. Lionel and Piers, she recalled.
“Good evening,” she said. “The queen is expecting me.”
“Good evening, Sir Karigan,” Lionel said. “You may enter.”
She stepped across the threshold and a large ornate room opened up around her. She’d never had reason to visit the conservatory before and was now dazzled by the formal finishes and gleaming chandeliers.
About a dozen ladies, finely gowned and coiffed, either sat playing cards at a table or working on embroidery near a hearth fire. Another lady strummed and plucked the harp situated on a dais. Karigan recognized a few of them from the ball. One wore the dark colors of mourning.
An attendant in the queen’s livery stepped forward, bowed slightly, but seemed to look down his nose at her for all she was taller than he. “Have you a card, my lady?”
Ah, he wished to announce her, and because she wore her special longcoat, he must mistake her as a guest.
“No,” she replied. “I am here on Green Rider business.” It was, in its way, true. “The queen is expecting me. I am Rider G’ladheon.”
“Very well. Remain here.”
Officious little man, she thought.
He approached Estora who sat at an embroidery frame and whispered to her. She looked up and nodded, said a few words to those nearby before motioning Karigan to enter. They met midway, curious and aristocratic gazes following them.
Karigan bowed. “Your Majesty, thank you for agreeing to see me.”
“There is a small parlor this way.” Estora gestured to a side door and entered the chamber. It was as sumptuously appointed as the conservatory, but of much smaller scale, and thus cozy in its way.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your evening,” Karigan said. “The harp playing is beautiful.”
They sat across from one another on silk upholstered sofas.
“Lady Dannela,” Estora said. “Yes, it is beautiful, but if you’ve heard her play on many such occasions, I believe you would find her repertoire rather limited.”
“Oh,” Karigan said.
“Indeed. I welcome your visit as a respite. These evenings doing embroidery and having to engage in inane chitchat also grow wearying, but it is a form of statecraft, albeit an underappreciated form. It is a queen’s obligation to partake of the society of the wives and daughters of the powerful.
There is an abundance of gossip, much of it meaningless, but if you listen carefully, some interesting bits come up that are worthy of sharing with Zachary. ”
“I never thought of it like that,” Karigan replied. “You’re like a spy.” She clamped her mouth shut realizing it was an impertinent thing to say to her queen even if they were friends, but Estora gave a soft laugh.
“It is,” she said, “a matter of honing one’s skills of observation.” She then gave Karigan a good look. “You are doing well? Zachary said his recent conversation with you was interrupted by a very sick dog.”
Karigan froze. Did Estora mean more than a conversation? Did she know ?
She cleared her throat. Her mouth had gone dry. “It was, uh, unpleasant.”
Amusement lit Estora’s eyes. “I believe the word Zachary used was vile .”
Karigan nodded emphatically. Just thinking about it was enough to turn her stomach. “I hope Finder is feeling better.”
“He is. Rider Harding put him to rights. You know how dogs are, always getting into things they should not. But we are not here to discuss dogs. You wished for a private audience and I must admit to being curious. This is the first time you’ve requested one, is it not?”
Now that it came to it, Karigan hesitated.
Speaking of having encountered one’s dead lover could invite a host of emotional reactions she wasn’t sure she was ready to face, but then she recalled her training as a messenger on how to remain stoic when delivering a difficult message.
And yet, Estora was a friend, and this was not a typical message.
“Today,” she began, “I remembered something about my time away.” Time away was quite a euphemism for being sucked into the heavens by the death of a god-being and falling through the stars. “You recall my ability to sometimes be in contact with spirits of the dead?”
“Yes.” Estora’s head was cocked as though she wondered where this was going.
Karigan told her about seeing F’ryan and hearing the story about the ball in Rider stables. Then she gave Estora his message.
Estora placed her hand over her mouth and closed her eyes. She did not weep as Karigan expected, but she trembled, and after a while she looked up with glistening eyes.
“I cannot express what this means to me, that he should remember me as though he were still here, and that he awaits me when it is my time. I cannot find the words, except that how can I fear death knowing he is there waiting for me?”
She stood, so Karigan stood. Then she threw her arms around Karigan. “Thank you. Thank you so much, my friend, for bringing his words to me.”
Karigan awkwardly patted her back. “Um, glad I could.”
Estora stepped back and dabbed a stray tear with a handkerchief. “Tears of happiness, I assure you. My heart is so light. But now will you return to the conservatory with me so that I may introduce you to the ladies?”
Oh, gods no, Karigan thought. The very idea mortified her. “I’m afraid I am expected elsewhere,” she lied.
“A pity, considering your Eletian status. It is to your ad vantage to know these people, but I understand you have duties, as well.”
Oh, thank the gods. She suspected, however, Estora would find other opportunities for her to meet the ladies.
Before they left the parlor, Estora turned back to Karigan. “I shall never forget the message you have brought me through perils unknown.” And then she added, “I will inform Zachary you asked after Finder.”
Was there laughter in her words? Karigan didn’t know what to say. Estora turned with the skirts of her gown flaring round her and the hint of a smile. F’ryan’s message had clearly put her in a buoyant mood.
Karigan followed her into the conservatory and bowed. “Your Majesty.”
Estora nodded. “Lady Winterlight, you honor me.” It was said loud enough to be heard over the harp music.
While “Rider G’ladheon” would have sufficed, and so would have not making a point of it, Estora clearly wanted her ladies to mark that she wasn’t merely a messenger, but one held in great esteem by their queen.
And, oh, how they marked her. She felt every pair of eyes rake over her as she strode from the conservatory.
Her mind, however, was more on Estora’s comment about Finder and her flash of a smile.
Did she know more about that meeting than she was letting on, or was it just her happiness over F’ryan’s message?
Well, Karigan certainly wasn’t about to ask, but she knew it would gnaw at her all night.
After all, it was one thing to be granted permission by a wife to be with her husband, and quite another to act on it.