Chapter Six The Group Date of Doom
When we left the tent, Draw gave me his arm.
I took it and we walked so slowly I could rest my head on his bicep.
An evening bird trilled above in a tree, and the camp had the quiet bustle of transition as folk cooked and talked around campfires.
I’d had a calm life but never peace like this.
Home was quiet, yet the stillness there dissatisfied me.
Work was fine, but cross-checking expenses and line-item transactions filled me with little purpose.
“And what was that other paper?” Draw asked, picking up on our earlier conversation as if it had never paused.
There was no tension or suspicion in his voice.
For all he knew, it was a secret list of the words and phrases I thought made me sound medieval but, as he explained while accusing me of making those words up, they made me sound like rubbish.
How was I supposed to know no one actually said mehaps?
Still, I hadn’t distracted him well enough if he was still curious about my scribbled notes. I pulled away instinctively, surprised that I hadn’t been as clever as I’d thought, but he pressed my hand into his arm in reassurance.
His face was open. Curious.
“Something I’ll tell you about soon.” I paused. Was that true? What would that mean if I told him about his fate? “But not today.” That at least was true.
“Lady Dottie of Mayfair, Apprentice Witch, Woman of Secrets,” he murmured, making light of it, but I could tell my hesitation grew his interest. He followed up on every lede, that was just who he was. The more a mystery built, the more insatiable he became.
He had no reason to think I’d written anything about him. After all, he was a minor character. Sherry Whitehorse hadn’t given him a single POV chapter. There was nothing to make him think the finale of the series rested on his shoulders—and wouldn’t, as long as I kept my cool and fixed the ending.
My peace evaporated as we walked. It was as if I could find moments, blocks of fulfillment, but once I settled in, I would always be reminded of the stakes.
I didn’t like to think of my departure, but it was undeniable.
I was acutely aware Draw and I would be separated at some final point.
Perhaps there was always a shadow. Things were never truly perfect except in the small moments.
The queen often supped in her large tent with Ariana or Ironclaw, but that night she commanded her inner court to attend to her for dinner outside her tent.
The canvas was the same beige as the rest of ours, but her tent was about six times larger.
In front stood a strong fire circled by two teenage boys and a woman who were preparing the meal.
Pots steamed, and meat and vegetables stood ready on spits.
Fresh sage and pepper made the very air delicious.
To the side stood a long row of individual tables pushed together.
Furniture was hard to come by in a military camp, and I wondered what lucky person got to load and unload the heavy chairs each day.
I was grateful though, to look forward to sitting on something besides a wooden stump or Peanut Butter’s back.
Opposite us, Parable was talking at length to the Master of Horse who stared into middle distance, his handsome face blank, his wavy hair fully down, and clearly not fully listening to the long-winded advisor.
Definitely not a conversation I was eager to enter, but Draw was already assessing them, no doubt having understood the underlying dynamic the moment he set eyes on them.
A guard stood at the entrance of the queen’s tent. She was still inside preparing for dinner. This was my opportunity. I needed to convince her to keep a closer eye on Ironclaw, especially after today’s fight.
“Draw, I’m going to...have a word with our queen.”
His attention was on Parable who had wrenched a coin from his pocket and held it up to the Master of Horse, but Draw’s glance snapped back to me.
“You’re going into Queen Elthra’s tent?”
“Yeah. Don’t you think that’s okay?”
“It might be,” he said lightly.
“Well, it’s part of my plan,” I said a bit ominously.
“I’ll see you at dinner, then.” He took a long stride toward Parable who was now holding the coin at eye level, squinting at it despite the Master of Horse’s inattention.
I glanced at the guard, and he nodded back, already tipping the canvas flap open. I steeled myself and walked through.
I blinked in the dim light and two chairs came into focus.
The queen sat in a tall blue chair, Amelia the armorer in a simple wood one.
The royal court wasn’t infinite, but I was still surprised to find them keeping company together.
Queen Elthra surrounded herself with polite, loyal women like Ariana or entertaining ones like Issa.
I would think Amelia spoke too bluntly for a queen’s taste.
Her hair was as unruly as her conversation.
It was chopped short to her chin, the layered ends made it seem like she hacked it off while at the forge and never thought of it again.
Not exactly the picture of a queen’s usual lady-in-waiting.
“Lady Dottie,” the queen said. If she was surprised I waltzed into her tent, she didn’t show it. “Come and sit.”
“Come and drink is more like it.” Amelia held a small wooden cup in the air. “The perfect end to a day on the roads.”
I sat in another of the thin wood chairs. A servant I didn’t first notice stepped forward and presented me with a cup of light, acidic-smelling liquor. I thanked her, but before I could take a sip, Amelia suggested a toast.
“To our gracious sovereign,” she simpered, the demure expression on her heart-shaped face well exaggerated. Her black hair was tucked messily behind her ears, and she smelled faintly of leather.
I raised my glass in agreement, but Queen Elthra snorted. “Yes, I’m sure I’m known through the lands for my kindness. Lady Dottie, what is the customary toast from across the Seas of Melancholy?”
It wasn’t possible she knew the real toast, right? I mean nobody did, the Seas of Melancholy was just a name on the map as far as they were concerned. I took a breath and said, “We say cheers.”
“Cheers!” Amelia burst and took a deep draw.
I wet my lips only. The drink didn’t smell particularly appetizing, and I needed a clear head.
“We were just discussing Lady Issa. Little Meg told our armorer here what you said about her swaying her captors.”
I looked back. Expectantly. Surely there was more.
She said nothing else, so I nodded uncertainly.
Queen Elthra set her cup aside and leaned forward in her chair. Tonight’s gown was a velvet of the deepest blue cut neatly to her sternum to expose creamy, unblemished skin and the faint etching of ribs.
“The night we first met, did I or did I not command you to bring your prophecies to me first?”
I stared back.
I had stood before the queen at Castle Creneda. “You’re not to divulge any information before it comes to me. Understood, Lady Dottie?”
I nodded.
“Holy Landsome fuck.” I slapped my hand over my mouth. Don’t swear in front of royalty! “My apologies, Queen Elthra, Your Grace.” I was grasping at what to say next, what would keep me out of chains and with my head on my shoulders.
Amelia broke out in a high-pitched keen, cackling. The queen slumped back in her chair and put her hand over her belly as if to hold her wild amusement in.
“‘Holy Landsome fuck.’ What an excellent swear,” Amelia said. “I’m going to have to use that.”
Queen Elthra smirked at me. “Oh, stop worrying about your head—don’t look surprised, I can see it in people’s eyes you know—you can make it up to me, Lady Dottie, by telling me what’s going on between you and my solicitor. Your absence today was noticeable.”
Heat ran to my cheeks. I settled on honesty, I thought I better. “Lord Draw took me to ruins he visited once with his family.”
Queen Elthra’s lip curled in disdain. “Why?”
“Well, to see them. Talk about history.”
“Let me guess,” Amelia said. “You got a special tour.”
The queen giggled. I was starting to see why she enjoyed Amelia’s company.
“Are you truly interested in Lord Draw?” she asked.
“I very much enjoy spending time together,” I stated a bit primly. “We have many shared interests.”
“And...” Amelia prompted. She tilted her head.
I threaded my fingers together, drink forgotten. “Yes,” I admitted, “I’m into him. Very much so. In a very bad way.”
“Well-done,” the queen said. “He’s too often alone.”
“But that’s the problem,” I said miserably. “I’ll have to go home, eventually. Then he won’t just be alone, I’ll have broken his heart.”
Amelia and the queen exchanged an exasperated look.
“Then don’t go home,” Queen Elthra said simply. Her light brows were wrinkled in frustration.
Easy for her to say. I knew she had a war on her hands, but still, she didn’t have the same existential crisis I did.
“I’m afraid I have to,” I admitted.
“The witch said she’ll summon you back?” Amelia asked.
I nodded.
We sat in silence for a moment, contemplating that.
Finally, the queen said casually, as if her idea beat all, “Please me well, Lady Dottie, and I’ll write up an official proclamation to keep you here.” She waved an elegant hand as if that was that.
I thanked her graciously, but it wasn’t that simple.
I couldn’t stay in Landsome. Sorrel would never let me.
Or if she did, would I really want to give up my parents and Fern?
Live in a foreign world the rest of my life?
Even for a man I was falling in love with?
Wouldn’t I wish for home someday? I’d spent only a week in Landsome and already it had unraveled who I thought I was.
Besides, this world was dangerous. Draw could die, or I could get sick. There was no assurance of a happily-ever-after.
Oblivious to my thoughts, or perhaps to sweeten the deal, Amelia said, “If you married Lord Draw, you’ll be cousins-in-law to our fair queen.”