A SUDDEN OCCURRENCE

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

Birthed in my heart. Alive in my veins…

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

With disarming charm, Prince San moved through the hall with his words, his tongue quick with wits, and accepted innuendos.

He laced his speech with clever jabs, stories laced with sly references to old scandals from various Kingdoms, of royal mishaps and special gatherings of the past.

Kingdoms present and absent participated and while most laughed, some faces turned dark, managing and failing to pull back the smiles they once wore when it had to do with Kingdoms that weren’t theirs.

Zorgan sat apart, his goblet cradled in his palm, wine left to breathe as he brooded. He appeared thoughtful and unreadable, and his gaze was fixed elsewhere- until a delicate presence interrupted his stillness.

The princess he had collided with earlier stepped lightly beside him and sat.

“Pardon my tongue,’’ she said softly, “but I must say- you do not look well, Commander.

Zorgan’s eyes shifted to her, his response as measured as his breath. ‘‘The Realm is far from well. It would be false to look it.’’

His eyes returned to the laughter echoing around them, his meaning clear. She knew he spoke not only of the realm but of the view before them.

To Zorgan, the mirth Prince San was trying to share was part funny and part hollow, threaded with words that should never have found air.

The princess lowered her eyes briefly before looking up once more. ‘‘You… you do not remember me, Prince Commander?’’

Zorgan turned slowly toward her.

‘‘I apologized for earlier.

I was only trying to blend into the crowd, but instead, I drew every gaze.

I apologize again.’’

She shook her head as her voice trembled. ‘‘No- no I-, that’s not what I meant.

Just- well, for someone whom the Realm praises for his ability to select and remember faces, you- you seem to have forgotten mine.’’

At that, he turned to her fully, brow furrowing.

‘‘I am Drena. Princess Drena of Eryndor.

You- you stood with me mere hours before you named another as your wife.’’

Faint recognition flickered across Zorgan’s face.

He recollected that in the Castle for Southern Royals, he had been with someone a few moments before Nadezhda had pushed that door open; the same day, he had told the world she was his wife.

‘‘Drena, it has been some time,’’ he said at last. ‘‘And my wife’s name is Nadezhda.’’ He added with a small smile.

From across the hall, the Queen’s eye caught the moment, the closeness that seemed like an intimate whisper between Zorgan and Drena.

Her gaze lingered just for a breath before the Queen of Ysvaldir beckoned to her.

‘‘…and the way everyone fell utterly silent the moment my dearest brother and Commander burst into the hall,’’ Prince San said, gesturing grandly, ‘‘now that is a memory none of us will ever forget.’’

The laughter that had filled the Grandest Hall in Valcresh’s main palace moments before now withered to silence, as if unsure whether it had permission to exist.

All eyes drifted from San to Zorgan. Their gazes locked- one steady, one slightly faltering.

San swallowed but steadied himself.

There had been a reason he requested the role of Master of Revels on this particular night and Zorgan’s dramatic entrance was nothing short of Heaven’s provision.

San let his gaze pass across several of the assembled princes- lords with bruised egos whom Zorgan had laid low in defense of his wife’s honor.

He looked down at his hands briefly. ‘No more hiding; this is the moment, San.’

‘‘This is a night of celebration for my sovereign father,’’ San declared, voice smooth and controlled and the crowd cheered.

‘‘But one person’s action came dangerously close to casting a shadow over it.

And as we all know, no deed is without consequence.’’

San flexed his fingers as a slow smile touched his lips. Then he raised his voice to fill the rustling murmur of part bewilderment and part intrigue.

‘‘The Commander’s lady is not with us this evening, and I suspect there is… a very particular reason for her absence.’’

He was clearly connoting something- something to leave people to ponder and to rumour about Nadezhda.

Zorgan was already on his feet, tension crackling in his posture. But before he could make a move toward the Reveler’s dais - voice-tier - Prince Mael stepped behind him, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder.

‘‘Brother,’’ Mael grumbled low, ‘‘it is but harmless jest. Do not invite scandal with rashness.’’

Zorgan inhaled sharply, then exhaled with a forced smile. His voice, when he spoke aloud, was composed and cool.

“I apologize for my wife’s absence. She is presently tending to a mild ailment. By Heavens’ hands, she should join us tomorrow.’’

‘She will not set foot among you vipers ever,’ he thought bitterly.

‘‘How unfortunate,’’ Prince San said, voice velvet-smooth and almost believing.

‘‘But trust me, there’s nothing love can not conquer.

My dear brother shall provide us with a gift, a sweet form of entertainment, the best of laughs tonight.’’

San spun lightly, his coat swirling.

‘‘Let every noble, every royal hand, reach for their purses of gold as we wager and cheer.’’

Thunder grumbled dramatically above, and San tilted his head, smiling.

‘‘Two swift riders will act as messengers and be sent to the Commander’s household and summon his wife.

If her love be true, she will cross even wind and rain despite this ailment that has assailed her on such an important day. And if not-”

Once again, his eyes fell on Zorgan. “-we shall seal him upon the balcony and pretend it can serve as a nobleman’s cell for a few moments.’’

Zorgan’s voice, sharp as drawn steel resonated, ‘‘This is a celebration, not a gambling hall! You overstep-”

The King’s hand lifted, silencing him.

‘‘Son, you are not being cast into the Infernal Keep.

This is my day, let the boy have his fun and let the hall get its amusement.

Send the messengers.’’ The King ordered.

Zorgan’s jaw tightened as he glanced at his mother- her smile was brittle and practiced.

‘‘No one goes to my home and I’m done with this farce,’’ he hissed, moving to leave- only to find himself swiftly encircled by guards.

San was radiant with triumph, and he bowed in reverence to the King.

He continued, ‘‘Each time it is noticed that the sky grows darker, our Commander shall take a step closer to his pretend-cell.’’ His eyes locked with Zorgan’s, smile curling.

‘‘Let the wagers begin.

Will the lady come for the Prince or will she not?’’

A cheer rang out. Gold clinked. The game had begun.

Zorgan looked on entrapped by soldiers and surprised by the quick flip of things.

‘What just happened? What is happening?!’