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“Your Majesty.” One of the skinnier men stood and took off his jacket. His ego had clearly been cut down a few notches by me failing all the tests. It was strange that they seemed to take offense to my deafness when it was me who had to live with it. Perhaps their issue was that they couldn’t “fix” me.
Because I wasn’t broken.
I no longer saw it as a disability. It was simply who I was. And I would find ways to cope without their help.
“Can this be over?” I interrupted him before he got on a tangent about some ridiculous surgery or new procedure. “I can’t hear.” Much.
The disappointment in his eyes was clear. “Yes, Your Majesty. Just a few more tests.”
Enough was enough.
“No.” I stood, and every gaze landed on me. They were filled with pity and exasperation. Frustration.
“Your Majesty, our tests are not finished.” At least the pudgier healer had the decency to remember to stand in front of me. “Just another hour or so. Coping strategies. Speech therapy…no one will know you are deaf.” I had missed some words, but I didn’t care at all. They had nothing to say I cared to hear, and they had crossed a line with that last remark.
No one will know you are deaf.As if I should be ashamed of myself, a dirty little secret. Flawed. If I wanted this kind of shit, I could have spent more time with Uncle Bors.
Who apparently hadn’t claimed I was dead? At least it didn’t seem so.
But while I struggled for a reply to their insulting comments, my rage faded. They might not be competent, might not have a way to change me to suit them and everyone, but losing my temper served no one. “I am the queen. Correct?”
All three of them nodded and looked at the floor. And I had a moment of pity for them.
But I didn’t need to use strategies to hide who I was. “Do you have any possible treatment to improve my hearing?”
Three heads shook.
“To stop me from hearing less?”
“No, your majesty,” said the plumpest of the three. “It is genetic and while you might hear better sometimes than others, eventually we believe you will be completely unable to hear, and there is no treatment currently for your condition.”
“
“Then, as queen, I say I’m done. The testing is over. And not just today, forever. No more testing or clapping or snapping or these stupid headphones. Unless you hear”—the irony in using the term did not escape me—“of a legitimate treatment or a cure, do not trouble me again.” I tossed the headphones across the room. “I cannot hear well. Sometime, probably in the near future, I will not be able to hear at all. Either accept that your queen has a flaw and deal with it privately or never return to this kingdom.” I stared into each face in turn. “And I will not hide who I am from my people. That has been done for far too long. I have many regrets about the way things have been here for the past number of years, but my physical condition will not stop me from righting the wrongs I see before me.”
I walked away, my head held high. Surely many of my subjects had challenges of their own, not including those Bors caused. I would be an example of taking the situation dealt me and making the best of it. And encouraging those who looked to me for leadership in doing the same.
Nobody was perfect.
And I would not pretend that I was.
A shame beheading had gone out of fashion. Those stupid healer’s faces would have looked good decorating my gate.
What a very medieval thought. I’d have to text Jillian about it.
Chapter Five
I watched the healers depart from my tower window. The queen’s apartments were actually in the main part of the castle, large and beautiful and until recently occupied by the regent. I would stay where I was until the staff completely emptied it and I found time to go to the big storage rooms and select new furnishings. Candace had asked if I didn’t want brand new furnishings and linens, but I didn’t want to spend unnecessary funds, especially when my people would need everything I could give them. And there were many beautiful pieces to choose from at my disposal.
But I didn’t mind staying in the tower for a bit longer. It had been my refuge through many difficult days and nights. Heck, many difficult years. I leaned on the broad sill overlooking the courtyard and the fields and homes beyond. Gardens lay to my right and left. Although there were times when I felt as if it were a prison, or when I’d been glad not to know what went on outside the tower walls, that would no longer be the case.
I could excuse my very young self for not taking a stand, but it was harder to think back on the last few years, difficult not to try to think of how I could have made changes in the kingdom sooner, helped my people instead of waiting for the high council and all who came with them to unseat Uncle Bors.
He was either dead or imprisoned somewhere, he and his minions. I rather thought dead. The high council was not forgiving when they had to step in. And while their penalties in cases of treason and other high crimes were not always made public, rumors swirled that they were very final.
They had told me I would have three “advisors” put in place by them, the first of whom was Leif, who had already arrived. As I mulled over the changes in my life and tried to decide what to do first—because I’d spent years looking out the window, benefitting my subjects not at all—my advisor appeared in the courtyard below.
He had not been very pushy with me since the high council departed shortly before the healers arrived, and I hoped his attitude would stay the same. I wasn’t sure why he was so qualified to give me advice, but as long as he remained in the background, we should do fine. As if he heard me thinking, he tipped his head back, up, up the wall until he found me leaning on the windowsill. I lifted a hand and waved because what else can a polite person do?
