Page 2 of Of Blood & Bone: The Young Queen

“Do you yet know the details of the birth in the city?” I enquire, ignoring the tone of his voice. I couldn’t care less about his displeasure. His job is to keep me informed of all things relevant to my reign, regardless of the time of day or night. He himself has no qualms about the hours those who work for him keep.

“A rider has just returned, Majesty. I can report the birth of a healthy baby girl.” He pauses and stretches his thin lips into what I presume is supposed to be a smile, but his dark eyes remain cold, in the manner of a snake. I've no doubt he expects me to rejoice at this news, mistakenly believing, as he has done since I came to power, that my tender years mean I’m gullible to his manipulations.

He has been one of the biggest deniers that Ardvalla is in crisis, and a constant thorn in my side as I have tried to introduce measures to address the issue. His power is predicatedupon the old ways and he has no intention of losing it. He has raised argument after argument in the High Council that the falling birth rate and the decline in male births are simply cyclical, and that it is only a matter of time before both start rising again. Therefore, I know he would rather drink his own piss before telling me the fate of the other baby, and I'm guessing by his reluctance to mention it that the dead infant is a boy.

“What of the other child?” I ask, as I subject him to one of my most imperious stares.

His snake smile falters and he looks away. “The other baby didn't make it,” he says in a low, scraping voice.

“Gender?” I ask, my voice clipped and curt.

“Male,” he replies, his eyes narrowed and nasty.

Silence fills the space between us, and even though he doesn't move I can feel him squirm under my unforgiving gaze.

“You may go,” I declare and turn my back on him to face the fireplace.

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” he says in that greasy voice of his. “Just one more thing, Lord Greythorne has finally arrived for the Harvesting ceremony tomorrow.”

The slick layer of self-satisfied triumph in his voice is unmistakable, and I wait until I hear the gentle click of the door closing behind him before I let out a pained sigh.

The Harvesting. My grandmother’s big idea to ensure any future queen didn’t end up childless, and now a damned curse I am forced to live with.

Just the thought of what awaits me tomorrow and the potential possibilities ties my stomach up in knots and causes a painful throb to start behind my eyes.

Greythorne had let it be known that he vigorously objected to the Harvesting and would only present himself under duress. I suppose his family’s threats and the prospect of marrying a young queen, thus gaining realm-wide power, haveproven too powerful to resist. I had hoped not to have to look upon his unpleasant visage tomorrow and to have at least one less marriage prospect to deal with. Or I should say, one less unpalatable marriage prospect to deal with for, in truth, each of tomorrow’s “suitors” is as odious as the next. I thought the last bunch back in the spring Harvesting were bad, but this gaggle of preening ganders are a lot worse.

The throb turns into a vicious stabbing pain and I realise one of my “episodes” is coming on. This is the last thing I need right now. I need to sleep and have a clear head for tomorrow. I am sure there is a way out of my predicament – I just need my brain to fire up and present me with a solution.

Instead, it betrays me and an image of Greythorne leaning in to kiss me with that cruel mouth of his fills my mind's eye. An unmerciful stab of pain shoots through my right eye like a hot poker from the fire, and a wave of nausea threatens to bring me to my knees. I reach for the white cord and pull on it like my life depends on it before crashing to the floor.

When I open my eyes, an unfamiliar face is peering into mine. Wide, violet eyes look deep into my own as if searching for an answer.

“How are you feeling, Your Majesty?” a melodious voice asks me, and I realise it's coming from the young woman with the violet eyes. Her head is shorn in the manner of the healers and she is wearing golden robes trimmed with red silk, which tells me she is a master healer. However, I'm confused, as she is so young. If I were to guess, I'd say she's the same age as me which is the cause of my confusion, as I've never met a master healer who didn't seem to be at least a hundred years old.

The pain behind my eyes has abated somewhat and the stabbing poker of fire has been replaced by a dull throb. I feel something cool across my forehead and reach up to find a damp cloth. I realise I'm lying on my bed and wonder how I got here.

It's as if this young healer can read my mind, and before I can ask she provides me with the answer.

“When I arrived, you were passed out on the floor, so I got the captain of the Night Guard to help me lay you upon your bed. Then I soaked one of my cloths in some essence water and applied it to your brow. Has the pain eased?”

The pain has indeed eased, but that is not what concerns me at this moment. I want to know where my regular healer is and why this much younger healer is tending to me instead of her.

“Where is Myreena? Why is she not here?”

The young healer smiles and her eyes are lit by a strange glow. I find I can’t take my eyes away from them and a feeling of comfort and calm washes over me. She touches me lightly on my arm and answers me in that strange, melodic voice.

“Myreena attended the birth, my Queen. She knows how important it was to you. There were some complications, and she is still attending to the mother and the surviving child.”

A feeling of warmth emanates from where her hand rests on my arm and I immediately miss it when she takes it away.

She reaches into a basket by her side. “I have a number of things here with me I feel will help you, my Queen,” she informs me, “however, we can wait for Myreena to attend to you if you prefer.”

“What do you believe ails me and what do you have in your basket there to cure it?” I ask and don’t try to hide the note of doubt in my voice.

She smiles as if she fully expected my questioning of her abilities.

“I believe you are under a great deal of pressure, my Queen. You are facing an impossible choice and you have exhausted your mind trying to think of a way out of it. However, that does not mean a solution isn't possible. It simply means youneed to think in other ways or outside your normal thinking in order to find it.”

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