Page 9 of Of Brides Of Queens

I cleared my throat. “Queen Perantiqua.”

“Ah!” A snorting snore. “A-apologies, miss. Queen. Ma’am! Oh, I’m not meant to call you queen.”

Indeed? His liege’s orders, no doubt. “Are you well, sir?”

“No, no. Yes. No. Let me get that curtain open.”

The wheezing minion staggered from the shadows, then jumped high with the surprising agility I recalled. Still half-asleep, the minion missed the rope hanging from the ceiling and crashed to the stone floor. He rolled a time, then dragged himself upright quite quickly. With a second agile leap, the minion managed to latch onto the rope.

The minion pulled down hard, and the rope pooled on the floor, burying him in its coil.

I had begun to ask the minion how he was, but as the curtain lifted, five kingly and immortal presences became painfully obvious. I could only wonder that the bloodied curtain had blocked all traces of them.

I adjusted my white mesh veil to check that my eyes were somewhat covered. In the past, Valetise had crafted my veils of solid, heavy material to withstand the presence of vast kingly power. By contrast, this material was light and mesh like my jumpsuit.

Valetise must have known something I did not.

I knew even less than usual, for I had never glided amongst five kings. While usually I loathed the idea of forced slumber, perhaps slumber was not a terrible fate for a queen avoiding a declaration of her purpose.

“What’s your name again?” The wheezing minion kicked and clawed from the midst of the coiled rope.

“Queen Perantiqua,” I repeated mildly, my focus on the five powers in the next room.

Silent, listening. Waiting.

One of them was King See. I had not seen nor spoken to him in a week but for sending him an annoyed and flippant reply via his princes.

“Pear. Antique. Kwah,” said the minion, dragging my attention away from kings.

No one ever said my name quite as my mother had.

No one ever said my name as King See did. Whatever ire I had raised in him, and whatever ire he had raised in me, I still shivered at the anticipation of his closeness. If only he had refrained from sending his princes to pester me about purpose, then I could fully relish a meeting with him without any ire.

Another wheeze. “Are you listening? Do you have a slogan?”

I focused on the minion again. “Excuse me?”

“Your slogan.”

“Pardon me, sir, but if you could expand that thought.”

“What a delightful way to ask a person for an explanation. I will do so. My master is King Take, for example, and his slogan is ‘Ever thirst for Thirst itself’.”

“Goodness, I see your meaning. I have admired the wordplay of his slogan. Do I need one, then?”

The minion lifted a shoulder. “All kings have slogans.”

I appreciated his candidness. “I feel put on the spot.” To form a slogan, I would need to know what I was about.

Without purpose, there could be no slogan.

My eyes narrowed on the minion. “You are filled with the will of your king. He seeks to drag declaration of purpose from my unwitting lips.”

The minion cracked a grin, displaying yellowed and crumbling teeth. He swept a bow, and another wheeze was expelled from his lungs with the act. “As I am.”

Very clever, King Take.I should not underestimate his underlings again, whether minion or prince.

“I have no slogan tonight,” I declared. “Kindly announce my arrival, or kindly do not. I am entering.”