The Way of Queens

Chapter 2

Tias and Rowan were gone before I wake, leaving Raen and I alone. She's dressed in a bright yellow dress with long flowing sleeves that billow out and taper at her wrists, her blonde hair tied back in a messy braid held together with twine. Such effortless beauty. She has an empty wicker basket on her hip and she smiles at me from the doorway.

"Where are you going?" I ask groggily, using the back of my hand to wipe the sleep from my eyes. I push so hard I see white spots behind my eyelids.

She motions outside with her head. "The apples are ripe for picking. Why don't you get dressed and help me?" Her feet are bare, and her toes curl on the floorboards.

"I'll be out in a few," I say with a sigh. She just offers me a fleeting smile before whisking away. She leaves the door cracked behind her.

I pad back into my room, rummaging through an old dresser along the wall on the far end of my room. I pick out a faded red tunic and pair it with black linen breeches before making my way to the bathing chamber.

I stand in front of the mirror, my hands resting on the sides of the sink, and stare at my odd reflection.

My hair, black and pin straight, moves like prairie grass in the breeze of the open window, framing my pale, wide cheekbones and large unnerving eyes of crimson. Even for faeries red eyes are rare, and just as discomforting to any bystander.

I wash my face, letting the water drip off my chin in crystalline drops. The joints and muscles in my arms bark a protest, and a few bruises dot my neck and chest from sparring. I think of Rowan and his anger, of the royals and their upcoming anger.

Perhaps today I would do my best to convince his mother to stay during the royal's visit. I couldn't forget the whispers I'd heard the night before about running and royals, and I would be lying if I said that didn't feed my curiosity. But regardless of my own selfish wants, Rowan wanted to see the royal family, even if his own reasoning was fueled by pride or some lingering childhood want. But if I got an answer in the process, what was the harm?

And what was the worst that could happen? Raen was annoyed at either her son or I daily, it wasn't anything new.

With a soft white towel I pat my face dry before pulling up my hair into a thick ponytail. It sways around my shoulders as I turn to head out the door.

Raen is high in a tree, her yellow dress winking through the canopies of the trees. A few branches crack as she pulls two apples free. Another empty wicker basket sits at the base of the tree she's climbed.

"With both of us picking, it shouldn't take long," she called. She grunted as she pulled another ripe fruit free.

"I was just thinking about this last night," I say, picking up the basket. I scurry up the tree beside her, the bark rough against the meat of my palm and bare toes. It's warmer today than it had been in previous weeks, but I could smell winter approaching on the horizon.

"Oh?" she laughs. "It's good we're doing this today. We won't have time next week, and I'd hate to let all of these go to waste."

I can barely see her through the thick leaves that have yet to turn brown. A question lingers on my tongue, and I debate on asking it. I could wait until later, until after the labor is done for the day. Conceivably it would be a better idea to do it now, when Rowan was with his father and far from grinding his mother's gears.

I ponder this for a while, my basket growing heavy with fruit, the early morning sun fading into the afternoon.

Raen calls me when the sun is high, and I follow her back into the house, my feet silent on the wooden floors. She places her basket on the counter and motions for me to do the same.