THE QUEEN OF VALCRESH

I am not a queen because I rule, I rule because I am THE QUEEN.

Birthed in my heart. Alive in my veins…

*****************

Three weeks since Prince Commander Zorgan went to war.

Three weeks since his wife fell into a spree of her will.

Nadezhda almost couldn’t believe it.

No one was breathing down her neck, no one held her to any expectation, no one stared at her with hatred or made her feel like she was an unnecessary clutter for simply existing. She wasn’t even Nadezhda of Isoloth anymore.

‘You are Nadezhda of Valcresh now. You aren’t exactly free’ A voice would sing in her ears.

But she would be quick to attack it with an inward response.

‘I would be that when he returns – which may be in a few months or a year or two years. But NOT never. Never ‘never’! I still have no full stand in Valcresh soil and it will be almost awful not to have a moving Royal Commander as a mark to practice my archery skills on

She could do the simple things she had always wanted to without that odd sensation of someone watching her to gauge and scrutinize her every act.

Astrid and Camille had guided her to the knowledge of cultivating a garden.

She picked up gardening, persisted in enhancing her archery finesse, and on some days, she’d visit the market accompanied by her chambermaids, dressed like them.

The group would be escorted by three of Zorgan’s faithful soldiers, but only because they wore simple clothing.

To onlookers, they’d resemble seven siblings out at the market purchasing things for their large household.

Then they would return to the Palace and assist the kitchen staff in making meals for everyone around- maids, guards, and any living thing that participated in human meals.

Since Zorgan had raised his dwelling far from Valcresh’s main Palace and the residence of other Valcresh citizens, it was easy for those around to become at ease - nearly forgetting Zorgan’s severe orders.

But this day, two white horses precede and ensue a carriage.

The Royal Crest of Valcresh, with a soaring eagle above seven arrows once aimed at it, nearly covers the entire surface of the carriage’s sides.

Valcresh is the eagle and the seven arrows stand for the perfection of their enemies. Foes who are strong, tactical, and can aim high, but despite all, will never be able to get to graze the eagle.

From the narrow windows of the carriage, the passengers observe the lone guard standing agitatedly as they slowly roll in.

‘A single guard, not even a soldier.’

The soldiers before the carriage dismount from their horses and open the door of the carriage.

Out comes Princess Evadne and with the aid of a soldier, she alights the carriage.

Her sharp eyes sweep across the empty grounds before staring at the building.

‘‘It’s like a bloody desert here. Where in hell is everyone?’’ She tossed the question into the air as the Queen of Valcresh was helped out of the carriage.

Then they begin to walk towards the building.

It’s chaos within.

The servants, maids, chambermaids, guards, and soldiers who had been helping themselves to freshly baked cake suddenly began to flee in a frantic, disorganized manner.

As soldiers from the main Palace had throttled in, Astrid had parted one of the curtains to see who it was.

It would be understandable if it was anyone else or any other royal.

But Princess Evadne?

And The Queen of Valcresh?!

She had barely managed to get the warning from her lungs to her lips before everyone ran in different directions. Some slamming against each other, others being too petrified and instantly having mushed brains as their actions became slower, some simply raced to their posts.

Nadezhda’s chambermaids had then realized that their mistress wasn’t by their side or anywhere around their vision.

‘‘My Lady?!

Where is she?’’ Aida whisper-yelled at the others as the impromptu visitors began to climb the stairs, one sure step after the other.

Astrid, Camille, and Aida remembered the state she had been in when they last had eyes on her.

She had been the reason everyone was in such a light mood a few seconds ago.

Having participated in the baking of the cake, she had requested the presence of everyone – save one guard by the gate- so they could taste her ‘work of art’ and share their thoughts.

This was the first edible thing she had a hand in because the only thing kitchen-related she had been doing had been going to the market with the others.

Today, the kitchen staff had let their guard down for a few seconds, and she had strapped on an apron and subtly manipulated them into letting her assist them. She was tired of just watching them.

Due to how carefree she had been, they had no problem instructing her on what to do. Sometimes she would do as told but there were times she majorly over did.

She had been so excited at the finishing product that as she joyfully trailed after the kitchen staff who was carrying the cake, she slid and fell into a bowl of flour. Her head scarf had shifted and her dark hair had turned white.

She wasn’t fazed as she partly wiped her face and asked the shocked staff to continue moving.

She had the ability to make them all hold their hearts in their hands, nearly every single time.

It was the aftereffects of being free like she had always wanted. She was close to being high on it and she would gladly die by it.

When everyone had seen her face and appearance, they tried…they had really tried to seal the bubble of laughter in their throats. And she could tell. Her eyes roved over everyone.

“If you were in my shoes and in this dress, I’d laugh. So if you want to laugh, laugh while you have the chance’’

This did it for most of them and they went over doubling, their chests filled with glee, their shoulders rocking with laughter. She had joined, too, as the head of the kitchen staff began to pass the cake around.

After getting their thoughts on the cake- some genuine, others careful, she had a whole plate for herself and had gone out to the back quickly.

Camille succeeded in stilling her nerves for a moment before churning through her thoughts. It hit her.

‘‘I think she went to the back. To-to the garden’’

They all headed there at once.

But she wasn’t there.

The only sign that she had been there a moment ago, were the imprints of her feet on the soil where they had proposed to plant some seeds tomorrow.

Then they ran back in and they were met with the disgusted face of Evadne and the questioning creases on the Queen’s face.

‘‘Where is the Lady of this house?’’ Evadne grilled her eyes on those who had not made it out in time.

She was about to bark her question again when Nadezhda ran in.

It was neither through the doors of the Grand Hall nor the back door at the kitchen where her chambermaids had gone in search of her.

Instead, it was through one of the smaller entrances to the Grand Hall and was carved almost behind one of the stairways that led upstairs.

Concurrently, her chambermaids placed a hand over their mouths and the other, right above their hearts. This time they weren’t trying to prevent a laugh. They were trying to still the heart attack that was about to take them six feet into the ground.

Their mistress, the Lady of Prince Commander Zorgan’s Palace, did not just have flour on her hair and clothes.

There was now mud on her clothes, under her shoes and around her hands. The hand that was currently holding a baby chick…wherever she might have found it.

She had run in excited with a resounding inquiry from her lips.

‘‘Everyone, do you think I should start a poultry?’’