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Lady Harrsing was one of the few courtiers to take up residence in the Konrada with the Queen. Most nobles had their own townhouses and villas throughout Ascal, but Bella chose to stay close. As she always did, since Erida was just a girl.
A maid answered the door, yawning in the Queen’s face.
Immediately, her eyes widened in shock, all but dropping to the ground to kneel.
“Your Majesty,” she murmured, quivering as she looked at the floor. “I shall wake Lady Harrsing.”
“I can do that,” Erida said, waving the maid out of the way.
With a glare, she commanded the Lionguard to remain in the corridor. The maid did the same, scurrying out to give the Queen whatever privacy she required.
Bella Harrsing was the wealthiest woman in Galland after Erida herself. With a dead husband behind her and a web of children married across the realm, she could have spent her days in the utmost luxury. Visiting grandchildren, savoring the hospitality of every foreign court across the Ward. Instead, she braided herself to the Queen’s service, staying on to mentor Erida when she first took the throne.
In recent days, her uses grew few, as Bella grew old.
She has uses still, Erida thought, entering the narrow antechamber separating the corridor from Bella’s bedroom.
The space was little more than a cupboard, the walls paneled wood, bare but for a high window and an icon painting of the goddess Lasreen. Erida sneered at it, despairing of the sun and moon in Lasreen’s hands, the dragon Amavar curling behind her.
To her surprise, Bella hobbled to the bedroom door herself, peering out in her nightshift. Her gray hair trailed down her back, set in a loose braid. It was rare to see Lady Harrsing without her jewels, rich as she was. But she did not look small without them. Her shrewd expression was strong enough.
“Your Majesty,” she gasped, throwing the door wide. In her haste, she left her cane behind, and leaned heavily on the wall. “Are you well?”
Erida’s heart twisted in her chest. People asked her so many questions—what color dress would she like, which crown, what do we say to this lord, how do we placate this noble? Few cared to ask after Erida herself.
“I am well, Bella,” she said, moving to join the old woman.
Harrsing’s pale green eyes glinted, her gaze narrowing. She was unconvinced.
“Then what are you doing in my bedroom under the cover of darkness?” she said, her voice sharper.
In earlier days, Erida made such visits rarely, always seeking a tiny bottle of maiden’s tea. Brewed from an herb all women knew, smelling of mint, looking of lavender. She could still remember the taste, and the desperation that drove her to it.
Quickly, Erida shook her head.
“Nothing like that, Bella,” she said warmly. “Come, let me walk you back into bed.”
“Very well.”
With a small smile, Erida put out both hands to hold Lady Harrsing upright. She did her best not to wince as the old woman put pressureon her wounded hand. Together, they paced into the bedchamber, just as cramped as the receiving room. A single candle burned in the corner, casting a gentle pool of light.
“Well,” Harrsing said, settling back under her blankets. “What is it then? What counsel can I give my queen?” Her breath caught. “What counsel can I not give freely in the light of day?”
Erida pulled a small chair to the side of the bed. Her heartbeat quickened, even as she sat calmly. Part of her wanted to get up and run. But not enough.
“There is much I cannot say, Bella,” she muttered.
Harrsing touched her gently. “You are afraid.”
Blinking, Erida weighed her response. The candle flickered and she sighed. There was no use in lying.
“I am,” she admitted.
For so many reasons.
To her surprise, Harrsing only shrugged, her narrow shoulders rising and falling beneath the swoop of her nightgown.
“That is necessary.”
