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He waved back then cupped his hands around his mouth and called…something. Not only couldn’t I see his lips, my ability to hear more of his lower tones was negated by the distance.
“I can’t hear you,” I yelled down, which, coming from me was kind of redundant. Not only was it me speaking, but if it were possible to hear anyone from the tower, I wouldn’t have been afraid of dying of hunger and thirst up there. Someone would have had to be looking directly at the window from exactly the right vantage point even to notice me. He waved, pointed to me then to himself, and made walking motions with his fingers. Okay, that translated.
“I’ll be right down!” Again, he wouldn’t be able to hear it, but I was automatically trying to be polite. I ducked inside and started for the door then looked at my dress. Suitable for sitting on the throne of your choice but for a stroll in the gardens or wherever my advisor had in mind? Maybe not so much. Candace was in the village picking up some bath salts and soap for me, so I marched into my closet and looked at the options. I had all kinds of heavy dresses laden with way too much embroidery and doodads, all designed to be worn with lots of undergarments so I could barely move.
In the back of the closet on a small dresser lay, washed, folded, and probably ironed by the laundresses in the bowels of the castle, the jeans, T-shirts and tank tops and shorts left by Jillian. Dare I? I struggled out of the dress getting so frustrated at one point I nearly shifted just to shred the damn thing, then stood there in my panties and camisole looking at the outfits my sister wore nearly every day of her life. No wonder she didn’t want to be queen. I could barely breathe in the things I was forced to don daily.
I was close, even picked up a white tank top with little roses and violets embroidered around the neckline before I decided it was too radial a leap. But I’d be hell to gone before I put on another one of those throne-sitting outfits. I might not be ready to dress like a peasant—sorry, Jillian—for a stroll on the grounds, but neither was I going to do it in something so tight I would have to rest every few minutes.
Surveying the contents of the closet I recognized that I would need to make changes no matter what. I’d had no say in anything but the Jillian clothes. Oh, and one lavender dress, of appallingly lower-class cotton. I’d never worn it anywhere outside of my chambers, but it looked perfect for a walk in the flower gardens. Falling only to my knees, it was light and loose and easy to move in.
Also easy to put on, but I’d spent so much time getting to that point that by the time I arrived in the courtyard, Leif was sitting against the wall, head buried in his arms. Possibly asleep.
In a burst of mischief I also blamed on my sister’s influence—because I certainly hadn’t done anything like this before she returned to lift my spirits—I tiptoed toward him, hand outstretched to tap his shoulder and maybe make him jump. The courtyard was empty at this time of day. Often, actually, since only visitors of status even used it to enter the palace, and we hadn’t had many of those in years.
I reached…reached…and thensnap!A hand shot out and closed around my wrist. His face lifted, and his smile lit up his whole face, especially those ice-blue eyes. Looking at me straight on, he said, “What kind of a protector would I be if I didn’t hear people sneaking up?” As before, I could read his lips clearly and hear most of his very deep voice. Somehow that was very special to me.
“But you are not a protector, but an advisor,” I pointed out as he released me and stood, brushing his black pants free of the dust of the courtyard. His clothing was less formal as well, more appropriate for the century we lived in even, but he still wore a button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, with those slacks which I just realized were jeans. They came in black? Perhaps he’d had them made specially.
He held out his arm for me to place my hand on, and when I did, he leaned close to my face. “I am whatever you need me to be, Your Majesty.”
The thrill that raced from where my palm made contact with his bare forearm up to my shoulders and then through all of my body was surely related to being the queen whose needs others finally listened to.
We moved across the courtyard to a gate leading into the flower garden. At the start of summer, everything was in bloom, it seemed. Roses in every shade of red, peach, yellow, and pink. Blue spikes of delphiniums. Blossoming vines climbing all the stone walls, and so many more types of flowers were everywhere. Their scent was heady in the air, their colors bright and soft and vivid and peaceful all at the same time. We moved along the broad paths in silence, the gravel rolling under my slippers enough to make me decide to get some of those practical laced leather and canvas shoes Jillian wore. And maybe sandals. The warm wind kissed my cheeks, and a fleeting thought of what it would be like if Leif were to do the same fluttered through my mind like the butterflies that seemed to be everywhere. We didn’t have to talk, and I didn’t have to try to hear or figure out what anyone was telling me. My senses were perfect for seeing beauty, and smelling heavenly scents, and touching a soft-as-velvet flower petal…
Considering the regent had ruined almost everything in the palace that did not have a direct monetary return, I was amazed this sanctuary, my mother’s garden, remained. That is, until we approached the koi pond and came upon a wizened old gardener.
He was fishing out some dead leaves, but when he looked up and his gaze fell on me, his face erupted in a smile that fanned out in wrinkles all the way to his ears. As we approached, he dropped to his knees, but I shook my head and went to him, lifting him to his feet. I hugged him with everything in me. I hadn’t even known he was still here, since most of this garden was not visible from my window, just a small strip.
Hors cried. The old gardener who had loved my mother and cared for her flowers all these years. He ought to be retired, sitting in a comfortable cottage somewhere, but I suspected he’d never be happy doing that. So I hugged him longer and wept with him, both for my lost mother and father and for the devotion and goodness that had continued even after they were gone.
Chapter Six
I took a cue from my sister and did a very queen-like thing. I ordered Candace to have one of those who ordered supplies to get in as many of the whiteboards my sister loved as possible. I wanted them in every nook and cranny and especially in the meetings. Any tool I could use for communication was welcome.
Meetings were the worst, for the record. I had one in a few hours, and it was already gnawing at my nerves. I was not nervous for myself, but in the back of my head hovered the whispers of a kingdom I now ruled with no help.
Not that Bors had been any help. I was simply his pawn, at his mercy.
I was the queen who had to clean up his years of mess.
“Candace held a dress in the air. It was lavender and had that sweetheart neckline I had slowly grown to abhor.
“I hate that dress,” I said and kicked at it to prove my point. “Would it be selfish to get something new? Something a little more modern?”
I wasn’t a fool. I realized that in my private moments, I would be able to sport the tank top and jeans that my sister was so fond of but for the formal things, dresses would be in order. Especially for those times that I had to sit on the throne. But at the very least they could be a style that was made in this century.
A bonfire out of my old dresses would be fun.
Candace laughed and nailed me with her gaze. “You are the queen. If you want to order five hundred tortoises with Swedish villages painted on their shells, you could. Personally, I agree. I think these dresses are way out of date, and our queen needs a wardrobe update.”
“Why would I torment a tortoise… Wait, seventy-three what?” I asked, remembering we had danced around what Candace said.
“Seventy-three whiteboards.” She turned and did a little dance while she filed through the available dresses hanging in my wardrobe. There were another dozen in the closet. I knew them all by heart and hated them equally.
“Did we get enough whiteboards?” I made a frame with my two pointer fingers. It was our own sign language for any kind of picture or frame or in this case white board. She knew what I meant. A thought popped into my head. “What if we all took sign language lessons. We could bring in a teacher. It would certainly make things easier once we learned. Offer free classes to anyone who would like to learn?”
Candace’s threw me a smile over her shoulder. “I think that would be a wonderful idea.” She turned and waved her hand like a game show model. “How about this dress?”
