Inchworm

Once upon a time, four queens ruled in Kissell. The High Queen was the eldest; her younger sister was known to all and sundry as the Lady Greeneyes, Queen of the Thousand Eyes. The High Queen's best friend was often referred to as Queen of the Eagles' Reaches; her own younger sister was the Queen of the Seas.

The High Queen surveyed her realm from a balcony. She, like the other queens, had been gone for a long time. Earlier that summer, her nephew gone and wanting to escape from a harsh husband, she had run away and gone up the road that leads to the end of the world, reaching Kissell mere months before. Upon her arrival, she had discovered the Lady Greeneyes and her husband--a surprise, as everyone had assumed them dead. When put to interrogation, Lady Greeneyes had confessed to her sister that she had forgotten to grab her son before returning to Kissell; she was sure he was dead. A part of her had died that day, but she was very much alive, as was her husband, who had fought as long as he could to buy them time before grabbing the stone that took him to Kissell.

Lady Greeneyes and her husband were out on a carriage ride through the Thousand Eyes region. The High Queen's best friend, recently returned from a long sojourn in Africa, was taking a horseback ride through the fields and meadows between the Castle Kissell and the Eagles' Reaches. Only the Queen of the Seas was not there, never would be there; she had died of leukaemia some years before.

"Milady?"

The High Queen turned. "Yes, Andrew, what is it?"

The young page looked nervous. "It's Sir Guy of Gisbourne, Milady. He says, he says--" He swallowed. "He says he's captured some enemies of state, Milady."

"Send him to the throne room. I will be there presently."

The page bowed and scurried off. The High Queen took a moment to gather her composure and costume, then walked regally down to the throne room.

Sir Guy of Gisbourne came in scant moments later. A thin, rather unpleasant man, nonetheless indispensable, Sir Guy was First Advisor to the Queen. He had ruled as Regent while she and her sister and friends had been elsewhere, and, according to the Lady Greeneyes, had made a right proper mess of things. He was overzealous and cantankerous, but he had never been anything less than gracious to the High Queen, who suspected he fancied himself in love with her. Of all the people in the kingdom, he was one of only seven people who called her anything other than Milady, although never in public, and he was calling her by that other name now.

"My lady Petunia," he said formally. "I apologise for bothering you with trivial matters..."

"Enemies of the state are hardly 'trivial matters', Sir Guy of Gisbourne," Petunia said freezingly. "What makes you believe they are enemies?"

"They asked about the cup brought back as spoils of war some years ago. What reason could they have but to reclaim it?"

"Hmm." Petunia considered for a minute. "Talk with them, Sir Guy of Gisbourne. Ask them why they are here. Report to me afterwards."

"And if you are not here?"

Petunia gave him a Look. "Sir Guy of Gisbourne, a man as intelligent as you should not need to ask."

"Of course, Petunia." Sir Guy bowed fawningly and departed.

"Auntie! Auntie!"

Petunia smiled as two small children ran into the room. A little girl with strawberry-blonde hair and a little boy with dark reddish-brown-almost-black hair, both with hazel eyes. Her niece and nephew, the little prince and princess of the kingdom. Petunia had not yet told any of them that her oldest nephew still lived; she no longer knew. "There you two are! Where have you been?"

"Playing on the wall, Auntie," the little girl said eagerly, looking up at her.

"Oh, you have, have you?"

"Yes, but we saw Daddy come in, so we came to find him," the little boy said seriously. "I'm worried, 'cause Mama wasn't with him and he didn't have the carriage."

Petunia frowned and pulled a silken cord nearby. A young page arrived. "Milady?"

"Halloa, Arthur," the little girl said with a smile.

Arthur returned the smile; everyone loved the little girl. "Hello, Princess."

"Arthur, has the Lady Greeneyes' husband returned?" Petunia asked.

Arthur puzzled. "I don't know, Milady. Sebastian might know."

"Fetch him, please."

Arthur scuttled off. A moment or two later, a tall, gangly teenager with sandy brown hair, freckles, and bright blue eyes came in, wearing thin rags, a bone flute in his hand and wisps of straw clinging to his hair. "Milady?" he said softly.

The little girl tugged on his shirt anxiously. "Sebastian, is my daddy back?"

Sebastian smiled gently at the small girl. "I'm afraid not, Princess, and I've been watching out for the carriage. Lady Greeneyes and her husband must still be out on tour."

"Thank you, Sebastian."

The stableboy bowed and left. The princess gripped her aunt's hand tightly. "Auntie, we did see Daddy. We did."

The little boy nodded seriously. "Jenna's right, Auntie. I know what Daddy looks like, and that was him."

"You must have mistaken someone else for him, Sorrel," Petunia said gently, touching her nephew on the head. "Now you two go play, and mind you don't leave the castle walls."

Sorrel ran off immediately, but Jenna scuffled her feet. "I hate having to stay in the walls, Auntie. Why can't I go riding too?"

"Your mother said you had to stay in Kissell while she was away. Maybe you can go for a ride when she gets back."

"But you're the High Queen," Jenna said hopefully.

"Yes, but she's your mother." Petunia tugged Jenna's long hair gently. "Go on and play, Jenna."

As the small princess ran out the door, a messenger came in clutching a scroll. "Milady?"

"Am I to have no peace?" Petunia murmured. "Yes, what is it now?"

The messenger held out the scroll. "This just came, Milady..."

Petunia took the scroll. It was sealed with a royal signet, a diamond with a pearl at each point and a six-pointed star in the centre. The seal was slightly off; there were tiny imperfections. She knew who it came from. "Katherine?"

"It just came, Milady, no one opened it."

Petunia slit the seal from the scroll and unrolled it. A short note, scribbled on a ragged scrap of parchment told Petunia all she needed to know. She crushed the note in her hand worriedly. "Tell Sir Guy of Gisbourne I ride in an hour."

"When will you be back, Milady?" the messenger called as she hurried past him.

Petunia turned in a whirl of silken robes. "As soon as I am confident that all is well once more." With that, she was gone.