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Chapter One
Silence. So profound it echoed in my head. It wasn’t the first time, but each time it hit me harder. The healers had warned it was coming, but it had slowed down for a while. Not improved really. I still needed my lip reading skills or sometimes writing things down for me to make sure I got 100 percent of what was said, but I hadn’t had any episodes of absolute deafness until very recently.
This time I was conducting audiences with my subject when it hit. As if someone had clicked the mute button on my laptop. It went from a tenant farmer droning on and on about how his neighbor insisted on growing rutabagas when he grew turnips and sometimes if the wind was right or the bees got pollen caught on their feet they cross-pollinated and thenwhoosh. His lips were moving, hands flying along, but no more of the sound at all.
I had a line of other subject who wanted to discuss things very important to their lives with me, and fortunately, I had the info sheet each had to fill out when scheduling their audience to help me. And lip reading. I didn’t mind that they knew about my hearing loss anymore. But I didn’t need to burden them with the fact that, when they were talking about their potatoes or llamas—yes, we had a few of those, mostly on sheep farms—or difficulty getting some sort of supply, half of me was scared to death.
Many of my subject had their own challenges, and my mates had helped me realize that, rather than a queen with deafness being a negative, I could show them how to make the best of my situation and try to invest in helping them as well.
And mostly that worked great, but having this happen right in front of all these people somehow made it so much harder. I wanted to go back to my room and bury my head under a pillow, something very un-queenlike. I was determined to hang in there and do my job.
The turnip man left with an appointment for a master farmer to come and work with him and his neighbor to make things better for both—because the rutabaga neighbor was next in line with a similar complaint.
Then there was a merchant who wanted relief from a portion of his taxes due to a supplier issue, a windmill installer mad at his supervisor, and a sheepherder who wanted a free llama to guard his sheep.
I was wondering why all these things required a queen to settle—reminding myself that my mother and father would turn no one away and I owed their memory no less—when a woman pushed a little girl in a wheelchair in front of me. I waited for her to say something, but she stepped back, and the child looked at me.
“Go ahead, dear.” I hadn’t looked at the info sheet yet, and I didn’t want to do anything to discourage this child. She couldn’t be more than five or six, with big brown eyes in a thin face. “What can your queen do for you?”
I studied her lips carefully as she began to speak. “I want to go to school with the other children.”
I flicked a gaze at my mates who were all present, standing to my left, and they each shrugged. “Why can’t you go to school?” I mean, if there was any rule against children with disabilities attending, heads would roll. “You are old enough, aren’t you?”
“I can’t sit up all day, so I have to lie down some of the time. Also I have some other difficulties and need help during the day.”
When she stopped, I waved her on. “Do you need an attendant?” We could get a helper, couldn’t we?
“No. But my chair doesn’t fit through the door of the classroom without being taken apart, and the headmistress says it would be distracting to the students to keep doing that. So, I have my lessons at home, or they have said I can be in the office.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t want to be all alone.”
My jaw dropped. Internally. Queens did not let their mouths hang open to catch flies. This was why my parents turned no one away. Every subject should know they could bring their needs and concerns to their queen. “One moment, dear.” I beckoned to Candace. “How many are left?”
“Three.” She handed me the information sheets.
“What is your name, dear?” I asked the little girl.
“Gina,” she said. “Your Majesty.” She bobbed her head respectfully, this child who could not rise to bow, but I wanted to bow to her, with her desire to learn and the dignity she displayed in this situation.
“Can you wait long enough for me to talk to just a few people?”
She looked over her shoulder at her waiting mother who nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Mama says we can.”
It seemed to take forever to get finished with the three men, although it probably wasn’t really long, and halfway through the second man’s complaints about his neighbor’s baying dog, my hearing reactivated. Not great, but a relief. One day it would not.
And after the last subjects concerns were rectified, there had to be not just one car sent for that would accommodate our guest and her mama as well as my mates and me, but a second car to carry the various councilors who wanted to be present for whatever was going to happen.
They probably feared their queen was going to shake things up.
They were right.
