006: Cold Reception

I hold my breath, forgetting for a moment how to breathe. What does this mean? How is it that the Queen is so newly pregnant? Why is she displaying my husband like a spoil of war?

Ona reaches forward and squeezes my hand, communicating her love for me through her touch. She sees it too. “We don’t know anything, Carnelia. Don’t assume until we know for sure.”

“Either Segundus is still alive or…”

“Shhh…” she looks around, her eyes wide with fear. “I know.’

We don’t have an opportunity to consider the implications, both politically and personally. An armed escort proudly weaves itself through the crowd, creating space on either side of their contingent as they find their way to us.

“By order of Queen Eleanora and Prince Primus,” their leader, stands before us, half his face covered in a golden helm, leaving only his jawline visible, which moves up and down with each word, giving his shadowed face the appearance of being eyeless.

“You are to come before their presence immediately to present your case.”

“We are expected,” I protest. “They promised to…”

“By order of Queen…” he repeats himself in the same manner, as if we did not understand or could not hear when spoke the first time.

Rage boiling just beneath the surface of my skin, I open my mouth to say something else when Ona clasps my arm once more, shaking her head. “Don’t” she mouths, her eyes begging me to stand down. “Please.”

Seeing her fear deflates my anger. Ona wouldn’t be this frightened without a good reason.

The line of knights usher us past the reception line for incoming royals seeking proper acknowledgment from the Luxandrian crown, into a grand but empty receiving room. The guards who escorted us took their places along the perimeter of the room, blocking each window and door, and casting long black shadows with feathered wings.

Our group closes ranks, moving the babies to the center. We may have come here in peace with an offer of truce and trade in exchange for my children's health, but we also know that there is a reason she wanted our children here in Luxandra. She has been asking us to give one to her to raise in exchange for my husband for months now. And then suddenly, her tune changed and she is willing to be generous in our time of need?

None of it makes any sense.

She wants something. Without knowing more about her motives it would be a fool to trust her completely.

Thankfully, none of us are fools.

I can feel the air crackle around me as Ona begins drawing on the heat from the rocks beneath our feet. Orion is watching the air dragons with the eyes of a soldier while I pull on my memories of Primus and begin to call the earth to my command.

We are ready to fight our way out of this room if we must.

But for a very long time, nothing happens. As our bodies and spirits grow weaker, we release our pent-up energy and continue to wait. Time stretches forward. There is no movement from the guards, no sign that anyone even remembers that we are here.

“When are we going to be done waiting?” Daax grumbles, growing visibly anxious as be rolls a small beam of crackling light up and over his knuckles. “She knows our situation is urgent and yet she is making us wait like commoners seeking her attention.”

Looking down at my children, gently wrapped inside miniature containment vessels, each one sleeps in stasis until their treatment can begin. "We don't have much longer until we need to take them out of containment," I notice, my voice shaking. "They'll need to eat soon and then...we might have only hours before..."

The containment pods were never meant to be used as a means of preserving and extending life, but when the symptoms started, it was the only solution we had. But each time we put them in containment, the effects last for shorter and shorter intervals.

Eventually, it will stop working entirely.

If we don't have the cure before then, one day we will put them in containment and they will never wake up again.

“It is a show,” Ona explains. “Watch her make light of it once we are escorted into her presence. It’s an old trick used by insecure nobles and…well, let’s just say I have opinions.” She twists her head to the side, making an audible cracking noise, as she rolls her shoulders back. "She isn't going to let the children suffer--she needs them, or us, for something. This," Ona gestures sharply towards the guards, "is an unnecessarily petty display of power. My father was a master at it." At the mention of her father, Ona's face took on a sharper expression, one built on years of betrayal and pain. "He took joy from making visiting nobles feel insignificant before they even stepped foot in his audience chamber."

"So, in other words, the Queen is weak," Orion concludes.\

One of the guards along the wall visibly ruffles, his eyes swirling with anger as a tuft of wind begins to billow around his feet.

Ona glares at her son.

"Watch yourself," she hisses. "Never insult her directly or question her authority." She looks around the room, her eyes searching a dozen faces. "The walls all have ears and eyes and those guards will kill you without a thought for even thinking of besmirching the Queen's good name. There are no secrets in a house ruled by air. All of our words are being carried to the Queen as we speak. Isn't that right, Eleanora?"

The queen doesn't respond with words. She responds with actions.

The wall to the right of us opens by melting away to reveal the antechamber on the other side. Kneeling on either side of her is a contingent of knights, each with the feathered bird wings of her kind. She has changed since we last saw her, swapping out her lighter, more revealing gown for a cloth of heavy gold and gems that glow with the sun, her gems creating rainbows within the room.

I don't want to be impressed by a woman standing so casually next to my mate, a woman who holds his hand possessively.

What I want to do is jump onto the throne and tear the golden diadem from her head.

"Welcome into our home, Celestial Queens," she tilts her head, bowing it slightly as is customary when addressing a noble of equal standing.

I fight not to curtsy. I am not a human anymore. I am not a peasant either. I am a queen.

And she's sitting in my chair.

Sensing my distress, Ona takes a bold step forward and using the grace of a drakaina born to rule, mirrors Eleanora's greeting with her own, adding an extra element in her movements that reveals her upbringing to be far superior to the monarch sitting upon the throne. "We are grateful for your invitation of hospitality and the offer of comfort and care during our time with you. If it so pleases Your Grace, we would like to get the babies settled before their health takes a turn for the worse. It has, after all, been a long journey."

Ona bows her head again, gracefully rejoining our group.

Eleanor, too proud to admit when she has been outclassed, smooths away her affronted reaction to appear calm, serene, and in control. Clapping her hands, a group of white-winged healers step forward from the gathered court, 8 in total, one for each hatchling.

"If you would simply hand over the newlings, my healers will attend to their needs. "

"No."

Eleanora pretends to be shocked as she places a delicate hand on her chest. "Are you denying a direct request of your queen?"

"Of course not," I smirk. "This may be your kingdom, but I am not one of your subjects." I remind her. "We came here for your aid with my children in exchange for access to our trade routes. Are you backing out of your deal?"

"I never made such a deal," she turns her head from us, looking towards the captain of her guard, who steps forward to join the healers. "Thank you for Primus' heirs with you. You may leave them here. You are welcome to enjoy the faire, of course, but you and your court will be staying in the far castle, with the other visiting dignitaries. This wing is reserved for the royal family only and that..." she smirks over at Ona before her eyes rest on mine, "No longer includes you."

The royal guard all take three steps forward, their shining helms glowing in the candlelight.

"And if I refuse," I stand up a little bit straighter, taking a step forward to protect my family from the monster sitting on the throne.

"Well then we'd have no choice but to expel all of you," she shrugs. "Your children will stay behind, of course, for treatment. It is the least we could do and..."

"NO."

A single voice roars from next to her.

Everyone turns.

"No," Primus repeats, his eyes flashing. "Mine."