"I am honored, Your Majesty, to serve you," said the girl, "and my family extends their gratitude once again that you should choose me for this position, but . . . ." She cringed visibly at what she had to say next, wrinkling her upturned nose and pressing overrouged lips tight together. "They ask that I now return home to attend to family matters. I am sorry, Highness, but I . . . ." Long lashes fluttered a rapid, irregular tempo of distress. Clear blue eyes glanced away involuntarily from the Queen Mother.
Llessur glanced away as well, while the girl (Sunev, wasn't it? She hadn't been here long, and Llessur was beginning to find it difficult to keep the names straight) continued with her fluttering. Finally the Queen Mother stood, and after half a second the girl dropped a quick curtsey in show of respect.
"I understand," said Llessur, with a slow, regal nod. "I am sorry to see you go, but I shall respect the wishes of your family. You are aware, however, that I cannot assure you a position with us in future, should family matters cease to demand your attention."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Sunev curtsied again, yet she seemed rather less disappointed in this dismissal than most of the other ladies-in-waiting had been. "I would not think to presume further upon your kindness."
"Well, then." Llessur resumed her seat and pointedly looked away. "Gather your things and go."
When she looked around again, Sunev was long gone. And she was the second one this month to leave--and the month barely half over!
Llessur considered each of the remaining ladies-in-waiting who attended her here in her sitting room. Girls of good family one and all, noble, attractive, suitable--while Sunev spoke with the Queen Mother they had kept a respectful distance, never looking directly at the two of them, yet she knew that not a one of them had missed a word of the exchange. Four ladies attended her, now that Sunev was gone; two of these now sat by the door pretending to be busy with their needlework; one sat reading; another was gazing out the window towards the sea with an air of boredom about her.
Llessur made her calculations. Etidorhpa? No, he wouldn't suffer her a moment longer than he had her older sister, what-was-her-name, who'd very nearly fled the Palace in tears two months ago without even going through the formality of taking her leave of the Queen Mother. Secretly Llessur thought this no more than the girl had deserved--and likely one so brazen would never have made a suitable Queen, anyway. Eti was, as far as she could tell, even more beautiful and more brazen than her sister. Llessur wouldn't be sending her any time soon.
Sisi? Oh, good grace, no. She was simply too slow-witted; until now it had always been the cleverer girls who had lasted longest when sent. Sisi was lovely and sweet and compliant, but he'd have no patience with her. Not, in truth, that he had much patience with any of them these days. Llessur began to fear a stalemate.
She considered the last two girls. It really wouldn't do to send Rathsi; she was a promising girl, but not yet ready, nor did she seem to quite understand the role Llessur wished her to play, not as yet. And Lenka--Llessur had doubts of her.
It was a poor choice, however she looked at it, a pity to have to choose now--if only Sunev had lasted longer.
But she must act. "Lady Leannan," the Queen Mother called. The dark-haired girl at the window looked up, straightening slightly as Llessur's attention fell on her. Slowly Lenka Leannan stood and slowly curtsied, never smiling nor taking her eyes off her mistress, and Llessur thought again of her doubts. But all the same--there was no doubt that the girl was lovely, the loveliest of the lot save for beautiful Eti. Those dark eyes might take his notice. Llessur held to her choice. "Come here, Lenka."
Lenka approached and waited for the Queen Mother to speak.
"I've an errand for you," said Llessur. "I am concerned for my son. His responsibilities weigh heavily on him. Go to him, my dear, and comfort him with your presence. I have my other ladies to attend me and I can spare you for . . . oh, an hour is sufficient, I suppose."
Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but Lenka nodded. "You needn't say more. I understand what you want of me."
Whether she intended to comply, Llessur noted, was left unsaid. She let it pass in her urgency. "Well, then, go on, girl."
Lenka was barely out the door when Llessur murmured after her, low enough that none of her ladies-in-waiting, despite their excellent eavesdropping skills, should hear: "And do not fail me."
There was a knock at the door. Thayer looked up quickly, expecting Rekla to have returned from the errand he had set him half an hour ago. "Come in."
The door opened, and it wasn't Rekla. Thayer groaned inwardly--so soon? Couldn't his mother leave him in peace even a short while?
On second thought, he realized, a new lady-in-waiting today meant it was likely that he'd finally got rid of Sunev. That was a pleasant thought. Insipid, simpering creature . . . .
Her replacement stepped up to face him across the desk, and a second thought occurred to him. She was not simpering. Not flattering him. Not smiling nor giggling. Not fluttering fancied lashes and shifting her position so that he might have a better glimpse of her figure and the fine clothes in which the Queen Mother had arrayed it for this event. Not curtsying repeatedly. In fact, she hadn't yet curtsied at all; she stood rigidly, staring at him with anger in her eyes and in the set of her jaw. Half intrigued and half annoyed, he stood and stared back. "Well?"
"You may as well send me away now," she said, in a voice resonant with restrained emotion.
"That's an interesting proposition," he began, quirking an eyebrow as he considered her. "Rather a novel one, I must say. Your . . . ah, predecessors . . . generally began with veiled hints and ended with saying please don't send me away. At which point there was of course no option for me but to do what you now suggest I begin by doing." He smiled slightly and waited to see what she would do, but she only continued to stare at him. Bad form, that, perhaps-yet otherwise she carried herself with a nobility that he had not noticed in any of the other ladies-in-waiting. Even now she did not curtsey. That was somehow disconcerting. He at last gave up waiting for her to make her move. "Well. You've introduced a new element to this game, at the least. If I send all the others away though they wish it not, might I not suffer the one to stay whose wish is otherwise? My mother grows devious."
"Yes," said the girl, "she does. But I speak not her words but my own. It is my wish that you send me away."
"Why?"
"I cannot do what she requires of me."
Finally giving up on the curtsey, Thayer sat down again and narrowed his eyes to reconsider her. "You're quite aware of exactly what she requires?"
For the first time she relaxed a bit, glanced down at him, and the corner of her mouth twitched upward. "It isn't that difficult to discern, Sire."
Ah, so there was respect in her, to call him by the royal title and not just My Lord as was generally acceptable. "Enlighten me," he challenged.
She shot him a look that said she'd much rather not. "Can't you just send me away?"
"When the game begins to be actually interesting, perhaps it's worth playing along. Enlighten me--what does my mother wish?"
The girl sighed and crossed her arms. "Her own way. She wants a Queen of her own choosing, but you know that."
"And I'm impressed that you know it. Most of her girls come in here thinking that they were sent for their own sake."
"That's silly. Even if not for her petulance they wouldn't be here for their own sakes in any sense. It's an honor to serve the Queen, perhaps, but it's still more a service than an honor." She winced suddenly and bowed her head as her words caught up with her. "But I speak out of turn, to say so to our Dictator."
"Grace, no," Thayer groaned. "Please don't. Don't start that." She looked up with confusion in her eyes, and he explained. "You began to sound like one of . . . of the others. You needn't be so anxious to speak only what I should wish to hear."
She actually grinned at that. "My apologies, Sire. Having not spoken with you before, I could not know otherwise but to speak as I must with the Queen Mother."
Thayer laughed, and the rest of the girl's rigidity seemed to melt at the sound. She stood at ease and watched him, though she did not join in the laughter. "Have you a name?" he asked.
"Lenka Leannan, Sire."
"And why is it, Lady Lenka, that you cannot do what my mother requires of you? Most of her ladies-in-waiting have no such qualms. Have you no wish to be Queen?"
"Queen! I only wish you'd send me away, if you will say such things as that," she exclaimed, and the restraint in her voice slipped a bit so that it trembled with the emotion.
"Why?" he persisted.
"What she requires is ridiculous, Sire. This is no way for a Queen to be found, even if all the superstitions were to have come true, even if you should reign as Dictator ten times as long as you have now and yet have no Queen. And it is also pointless--why does she seek to find a Queen when you have already found one?" Thayer glanced away, not quite prepared to address that issue, but fortunately Lenka went on speaking. "I've no wish to be her pawn, Sire, and I've no wish to replace the one you've justly chosen."
"Lenka," he muttered, "I believe that's the first sensible thing I've heard any of my mother's ladies say in a year's time. Thank you. And now I see I must do as you ask, and send you away. You may go back to my mother now."
Her eyes widened in alarm. "Oh, no, Sire--I can't."
"Can't?" he asked. "I thought you wanted to leave."
"Yes, but I can't go back. It's too early."
"Too early? Lenka, wait a moment, could you go back to being sensible? Or at least making sense?"
"She sent me to you for an hour," Lenka explained. "If I return before the hour is up, she'll know I've failed and . . . ."
"Ah. I see."
"Can you not just send me away entirely? From the Palace, from your mother's service? I cannot go back to her so soon."
He thought a moment, then stood and went to a cabinet against the wall. "Well, then, have a seat, Lady Leannan. I'm afraid sending you away is out of the question. We've work to do."
"Work?"
"Can you type?"
"Yes, Sire . . . but . . . ."
He handed her an old leather-bound book. "My father's journals. King Enad could not type. But I wish to preserve these, so . . . ." He nodded to a computer against the opposite wall. "You shall serve as our archivist."
Lenka took the book and looked in surprise between it and Thayer. "But, Sire, your father's journals? Isn't that rather a personal thing? Is it right for me to see these? I am not of the royal family--" she met his eye and smiled, "nor do I wish to be."
"We have established," he said, "that you are a sensible woman and honorable. For that reason I will trust you, so long as you continue to merit my trust."
Some time later Thayer looked up from his desk at the sound of another knock. This time it was, as expected, Rekla. The boy spoke briefly with the Dictator, reporting on his errand; Thayer nodded and sent him on his way.
"Lady Leannan," Thayer said, "I must attend to a matter elsewhere. Can you now return to my mother?"
The hour, she informed him, was not yet up. Not quite. And there was no way she could return before it was.
"Well," he said, "I can't leave you here and I can't take you with me. Here-I have an idea." He sat down and scribbled out a note, sealed it, and handed it to her, along with a small pouch. "Take this down to the Batcave."
"Batcave? What's that, Sire?"
"Terra Group headquarters, in the lower levels. You should find Lieutenant Cochran in the briefing chamber on the twelfth level. Give him that note and that pouch."
She glanced at it suspiciously. "That's all?"
"If the hour's still not up after that, you may as well just stay down there. The Terra people will find something for you to do. And my mother never goes near the Batcave."
She grinned and nodded. "All right, then." She set out on her errand, and he set out on his shortly after.
"And perhaps," he murmured as he went on his way, "you'll even meet the chosen Queen while you're down there."
Josh looked up from the Parisian maps he and Becki were studying at the sound of a soft footfall at the door of the briefing room. Standing in the entryway was a beautiful young woman he did not know, but rather thought he would like to. That she was attractive was undeniable, but what caught his attention was the way she held herself. She possessed a tall, regal bearing he had rarely seen in anyone his own age, which she seemed to be. The angle of her chin as she regarded him displayed a great deal of pride and confidence. Her jaw was set in a look of determination he felt certain would not be swayed. She was the very embodiment of nobility.
And her eyes. As soon as his gaze met hers he felt an instant jolt from his head all the way to his toes. Those dark brown eyes danced with the fire of keen intelligence and boundless curiosity. They were a sea he was certain one could never cross, even given all of eternity to complete the voyage.
Two things occurred to him then: He was likely staring at her with his mouth open, and he had no idea who she was or what she was doing in the Batcave. Trying to cover his astonishment at her beauty he said, "Yes? Can we help you?" a bit more forcefully than he needed.
He saw whatever friendliness her face had held melt away at the tone of his voice. "Lieutenant Cochran?" she demanded in an equally stern tone.
"Um, yes, I'm Lieutenant Cochran," he said, quickly trying to cover his brusqueness and knowing it was already too late. He tried to make up for it somewhat by showing that he did, indeed, have manners by introducing Becki. "This is Lieutenant Bush."
The newcomer curtsied lightly in Becki's direction and greeted her with a perfunctory "M'lady," before turning back to face Josh. "Lord Atner asked that I deliver this to you."
For the first time Josh noticed the pouch she carried in her left hand, which was now thrust out in his direction. Grateful for a distraction he took it and opened it immediately. It contained the remaining letters of introduction he was expecting from Thayer. "Thank you, miss...?"
He would have sworn she rolled her eyes slightly before saying, "Lady Lenka Leannan. I am a lady-in-waiting to Her Royal Highness, the Queen Mother."
Josh heard Becki groan slightly in the seat next to him. "You don't seem terribly happy about it," he observed.
Lenka's face formed yet another expression of impatience. "I do what is required."
"Don't we all," he replied.
"I doubt you, as an American," she said, indicating the flag on the left shoulder of his black flightsuit, "could understand the honor of serving the royal family of Mendellia."
"I understand more than you realize, Lady Leannan. In point of fact, I too am a Mendellian citizen."
"Then why do you wear a United States flag and speak with the lazy accent of an American?" she demanded.
In a desperate effort to defuse the tension in the room, Becki leaned forward to speak to her future subject. "Lady Leannan, Lieutenant Cochran's situation is somewhat unique."
"But nothing a handmaiden should concern herself with," Josh interrupted.
Immediately Lenka's face turned a bright red. She opened and closed her mouth once before managing to say, "Well. I see that my hour is, most fortunately, over at last. I will tell Lord Atner that you received his messages." With that, she turned to leave the room.
"Vous êtes belle, mais vous êtes vides," Josh muttered, quoting his favorite line from Le Petit Prince. [1]
Apparently he didn't speak quietly enough, as Lenka whirled mid-stride to spit him with a venomous look. "Whether or not you think me 'belle' is for you to decide. But I am most certainly not 'vides.' And that isn't for you to decide. Good day, Lieutenant." With that, she spun on her heel again and this time left the room with all due haste.
In the silence that fell over the conference room in her wake, Becki fixed Josh with an exasperated gaze. "You know, Josh, we're really going to need to teach you how to properly handle life in the Palace someday."