Chapter 420: The Queen Waits For No One

Chapter 419: The Queen Waits For No One

The maid’s voice carried through the corridor with an edge of impatience bordering upon insolence.

"Her Majesty does not wait. The Princess is to come at once."

Lyria, still within her chambers, heard the words distinctly. Scarcely a minute had passed since the maid’s arrival, and already she was urged to greater haste.

"I s-shall be r-right there," She called softly.

Beyond the chamber, the maid’s nose wrinkled, a small gesture, but one which Phineas noted at once. Brayden, too, observed it, though he said nothing.

"The Princess," the maid repeated, the word spoken with evident distaste, her voice raised higher still, "is to come out this instant. Her Majesty demands her presence without delay."

Phineas stepped forward somewhat, his bearing respectful, yet firm.

"Her Highness did not say she would not come," he said. "She said she would be along presently."

"That will not suffice," the maid replied. "Her Majesty’s instructions were plain. There is to be no delay whatsoever."

Brayden frowned.

"She has but this moment received the message you delivered," he said. "She will be out shortly."

"Shortly is not acceptable," the maid said, her voice still raised.

"Forgive me," Phineas said, his own voice carefully measured, "but Her Highness is a princess of this kingdom. She is not to be hurried as though she were some servant summoned to the kitchens."

The maid drew herself up.

"I come under Her Majesty’s direct instruction. And one such as Her Highness ought not to waste Her Majesty’s time."

"Pray, repeat that."

A voice came from the far end of the corridor, calm, yet carrying a weight that brought the maid up short.

Bridget stood at the end of the passage, arms folded, plainly prepared for whatever contest the maid might offer her.

The maid regarded her with a frown.

"And who might you be?"

"I might ask the very same of you," Bridget replied, advancing slowly. "I have never before seen a maid of your description within these walls."

"I serve Her Majesty the Queen, under her own direct instruction," the maid replied. "You may be unacquainted with me, my position being rather above your own."

Bridget nodded, as though this confirmed some suspicion already formed. Though, in honesty, she knew precisely who this maid was. There was scarcely a maid of her own standing unacquainted with those who served the Queen directly.

Bridget was of the private opinion that such maids, given the opportunity, should have the fact stamped plainly upon their foreheads. It amused her to no end how these women supposed themselves equal to the task of serving the Queen herself, the one woman whose slightest whim might undo an entire territory, an inconvenience may destroy a whole family.

"I see."

She continued her approach until she stood directly before the maid, who, being somewhat shorter than Bridget, took an involuntary step backward.

"Now," Bridget said, "I should be obliged if you would repeat what you have just said regarding Her Highness."

The maid hesitated, though only briefly.

"Her Majesty has summoned the Princess," she said, her voice rather less certain now. "I am under strict instruction that she is not to be kept waiting. Her Majesty has matters of importance to attend to."

"I understand that well enough. But there was a particular remark you made concerning Her Highness which has prompted my asking you to repeat yourself. That is what I now require of you."

"Her Highness ought not to keep Her Majesty waiting," the maid said.

"That is not what you said," Bridget told her. "I recall quite clearly your saying that one such as Her Highness need not keep Her Majesty waiting."

The maid lifted her head and gave a small nod.

"Pray, tell me precisely what you meant by that remark. I say only that it struck me as a peculiar thing to say of Her Highness, and ought not to be repeated. Though I must also observe that, from what little I have heard, Her Highness never intended to keep Her Majesty waiting at all. That was your own insinuation."

The maid stared, plainly startled.

"That is not—"

"Did Her Highness intend to keep Her Majesty waiting?" Bridget asked.

"No, but—"

"Then perhaps," Bridget said, "you might consider that a princess is entitled to a moment in which to make herself presentable before attending upon the Queen."

The maid’s expression tightened.

"I was instructed to bring her at once."

"And should Her Highness present herself before Her Majesty improperly attired," Bridget continued, "would you be prepared to answer for it? For, as I understand the matter, no-one is to appear before the Queen in a state of improper dress."

The maid swallowed.

Bridget observed her closely, marking the manner in which her composure faltered, her fingers twisting in the fabric of her skirt.

"I am quite certain," Bridget added, "that Her Majesty would take considerable interest in learning whose fault it was, given that you did not even think Her Highness deserving of the courtesy of making herself presentable before such a meeting."

The maid’s countenance had paled somewhat. She was, Bridget suspected, already picturing the punishments Her Majesty might see fit to impose for so grave a failure. And given that it was Princess Lyria in question, the Queen’s displeasure should be the greater still, were she to appear before her improperly attired.

For the punishments Her Highness had endured at the Queen’s own hand were, after all, not known to the other candidates. No one was to learn of it and so it was the wiser course that Her Highness be dressed with proper care.

One matter Bridget could not account for, however, was why Her Majesty had summoned the Princess in the full light of day, when she was accustomed to summon her only at midnight, when others were like to be asleep.

She wondered what Her Majesty might have in mind, to venture so boldly.

"Her Highness ought to dress with haste," the maid said at last, snapping Bridget from her thoughts, her tone considerably less haughty than before. "I am under strict instruction not to waste a moment more."

Bridget smiled broadly, though the smile did not reach her eyes.

"Then I shall go and summon Her Highness’s maids," she said, "that she may be properly attired before meeting with the Queen."

She turned and walked away without granting the maid the least opportunity to reply.

The maid watched her go, her expression a mixture of frustration and unease. Phineas and Brayden exchanged a glance, their lips twitching, though they held back the smiles that threatened to break through.

---

A few minutes later, Bridget returned with the other maids.

Brayden opened the door for them, though only wide enough that they might pass through, permitting the waiting maid no glimpse of what lay beyond.

The moment the door closed behind them, Lyria signed rapidly, they had already dressed her that morning; there was no need of a change.

’I am already dressed. You need not have come.’

She paused, then signed it once more, more slowly, and added:

’Do you understand?’

They nodded.

Elara’s hands moved next. Her signing was less fluid than Lyria’s own, but her meaning was plain enough.

’Pray tell, Your Highness, why is His Grace upon your bed?’

Bridget nodded, signing her agreement, though her own signing, like Elara’s, lacked fluency.

’I have the very same question.’

Pippa only laughed softly, and Lyria realised that Pippa had not informed them, and, since the other maids having been absent since the early hours, they remained ignorant of the matter.

Lyria signed back, her movements careful.

’I shall explain at a later time. For the present, you must see that no one disturbs His Grace.’

Elara frowned, but after a moment, she nodded.

Lyria was upon the point of moving towards the door when a stirring came from the bed. She paused just as Duke Valenridge’s eyes opened. He required a moment to accustom himself to the light, and then his gaze found her.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she raised a finger to her lips, silencing him.

She crossed to the reading desk and took up a pen at once. Her writing was messy, but she wrote quickly, and returning to the bed, where he now sat upright, handed him the paper.

’I apologise for disturbing your rest. You may return to sleep.’

Duke Valenridge read the note. A small smile touched his lips, and he shook his head, then gestured for a pen of his own.

Debbie hastened to the reading table and fetched one, placing it in his hand. He mouthed his thanks, then wrote his own reply, holding it up for Lyria to read.

’There is no need to apologise. I rested exceedingly well upon your hospitality. Though I confess I heard the commotion outside.’

Lyria frowned as she read it. Did this mean he had been awake earlier?

He gave her a look, knowing full well she had questions upon the matter, then mouthed, I shall explain later.

Then he wrote beneath his previous message:

’Before you go, Your Highness, remember this. Whatever may occur, remain composed.’

Lyria had no opportunity to answer him.

The maid without spoke again, her voice raised.

"You waste a great deal of time. Her Majesty is waiting."

Lyria sighed. She might enquire of Duke Valenridge at some later hour what he had meant by his words, but for the present, she must take her leave.

She had questions enough concerning this summons. She had understood the Queen would call upon her again, but had expected it at midnight, as was her custom. Yet the day remained bright.

In any case, Lyria moved towards the door and stepped through it, her maids, save Elara, following close behind.

The maid frowned at this, and spoke at once.

"Her Highness is to come alone, without escort."