The joyous day was fast approaching. The Queen of Terrasen was coming to Suria, and the whole city had come together to prepare. It was the first city in her tour of the country, during which the Queen was evaluating the state of each territory and making plans for growth and improvement.
It is an honor, everyone around you had been saying, for the Queen to choose Suria as her first stop.
Yet despite the citypeople crowding the streets in the light of the setting sun, cleaning and hanging banners of praise from the rooftops, singing songs and coming together to heal for the first time in too long, you couldn't muster up an ounce of joy inside of you. For, merely hours ago, you had watched your mother die from a sickness she had weathered for many years. The sickness that drove your father away months after you were born.
Her death had always been a certainty, with the healers having been driven from the land. But when your Queen returned and defeated the darkness that had plagued your country for far too long, you had grown hopeful. News had spread that healers were returning. They didn't arrive soon enough.
So your hopes had been dashed, and lay shriveled at the bottom of the pit in your stomach as your nimble feet navigated through the streets. You knew what was going to happen. You would keep working as a seamstress, ultimately fail to make enough money to pay off the debts on your mother's house, and you would be thrown into the streets, left to freeze when winter arrived. These days, people were overjoyed at having survived, but Terrasen was still poor from being occupied by Adarlanian guards who stripped your country of its resources and money. No one went out of their way to buy fancy clothes, and the few minor outfits you designed were far too costly for the poor townspeople.
You had nothing and nobody left, as when the town was occupied you and your mother had withdrawn into your home, only venturing out when necessary. Everyone had. Only now were neighbors reintroducing themselves, talking and laughing as they tried to prepare the city for their Queen.
You couldn't bear the thought of laughing with a stranger anytime soon. Your mother had been everything to you, and now…
You arrived at your destination: the quaint, rather small pub on the very edge of the town. You had walked past it just the other day on your way to the market, hoping to find even a non-gifted healer and purchase some herbs to relieve your mother's pain. It would be the perfect place to lose yourself for a few hours.
You opened the door, and walked in, drawing up your worn cloak to hide your face. A quick glance around the room confirmed your assumptions: with everyone preparing for the Queen's visit, very few were wasting time drinking. A few lone drinkers sat at the bar and a few tables, and a couple cozied up in a booth in the corner, but no one would bother you here.
You sat at a table close to the door, and the barmaid instantly set a tankard of ale at your table. Your mother had never let you drink before, and suddenly taking a sip seemed like a momentous step.
What were you doing here? Surely things weren't so bad as to waste your scarce money on alcohol? If you worked really hard, there was a chance you could make enough money to pay off the house. You would have to find a source of food other than the market, and perhaps pick up another job somewhere else…
You stopped before you could delude yourself once more with false hope. You had tried that already, and it had gotten you nowhere.
Before you could stop yourself again, you picked up the tankard and took a large swig of the dark-colored liquid. And instantly had to clamp your jaw shut to avoid spraying it across the room. It was bitter. You gulped it down quickly, a warmth blossoming in your chest.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the shorter figure, cloaked like you, shake with laughter. The taller one, with their cloaked back turned towards you, murmured something and the shaking stopped.
You grit your teeth, now more than ever determined to drink the whole tankard of ale. A few more sips in, and you wanted nothing more than to ask the barmaid for a water.
After a few more sips, the barmaid set a glass of water on the edge of your table, as if she knew exactly what you were thinking. You looked up, confused, but she merely waved a hand at the couple in the corner.
You turned, your hood sliding down around your shoulders, to find the shorter figure waving at you. If the pub wasn't so poorly-lit, you might have been able to see the figure's face. But the slender fingers peeking out the sleeve of the hood, wagging at you, were the fingers of a woman.
Mollified, you attempted to smile at the woman and turn back to your drink. Feeling the eyes of the couple on you, you pushed the tankard of ale towards the edge of the table and pulled the water towards you.
You never thought you would have been so grateful for a glass of water. Its smoothness washed away most of the warmth of the ale, and you resolved not to drink the rest of the tankard.
You decided to leave. You could do nothing in the pub but languish in your sadness, and perhaps decorating the house one last time would help raise your spirits. It would be what your mother would have wanted, what she would have done if you had told her the Queen was coming. But you had known this, and decided she should save her strength, so you didn't tell her. Dimly, you wondered if this would be a choice you would regret making now that she was gone.
Tucking an errant strand of hair behind your ear, you stood and reached into the pocket of your cloak to leave your payment on the table. And came up empty.
You breathed in slowly, shakily. You weren't out of money. You had just taken the spare coins out of your cloak to buy the herbs the other day, and in your grief had forgotten to grab a few before heading to the pub.
The situation was so foolish you almost could have laughed. But you refrained, staring at the table. What could you do? You could walk out the door and hope the barmaid never finds you. But that wouldn't be right. You could ask one of the other patrons for a coin or two and promise to pay them back. But that would be mortifying.
The third option it was, then. You waved the barmaid over, pinkness already coloring your cheeks. When she reached you, you said quickly in a voice that sounded more relaxed than you felt, "I forgot to grab a few coins before I left the house."
The barmaid's face instantly darkened.
You pressed on, ignoring the flush in your cheeks and the shakiness in your hands, "I can either return to my house and get my payment, or I c-"
"I've got it covered," A feminine voice drawled from the corner of the room.
You turned to see the woman who waved at you holding up a coin. With excellent coordination, she flipped the coin through the air, where it landed perfectly in the barmaid's palm.
The barmaid walked away, satisfied that she received her payment without having to decide to trust you or not.
Before you could open your mouth to thank the mysterious woman, who still sat in the shadows with her green cloak hiding her face, she lifted a hand and waved at you, ordering you to come closer.
You did, not only because you were indebted to her but because you were curious.
As you stepped closer, the second figure turned in the booth, until they were angled in front of the woman. If you didn't know better, you would think they were protecting the woman from you.
The woman seemed to elbow the figure in the side, and they reluctantly slid over to let the woman be seen.
One glance at the woman's face, which you were now close enough to see, and you gasped. Blonde hair pulled back in a long braid, tanned face, pointed fae ears, and you knew exactly who it was before you even saw the brilliant blue eyes ringed with gold studying you closely from beneath the edge of the cloak.
Before you could drop clumsily into a curtsy, the Queen of Terrasen waved a hand, shaking her head. You froze, inches away from the table, glancing once at the figure by her side.
This must have been the King, the rumored most powerful Fae warrior to walk Erilea. You had only heard stories of his looks, his build, and didn't believe them until you were standing right in front of him.
He could strip the air from your lungs in a heartbeat, if the stories were true. And you certainly had no reason to doubt them.
The woman pointed to the booth across from them, and you sat down, facing your Queen and King, utterly numb.
"You aren't supposed to be here yet," You said, in awe, before you could even consider court etiquette. You probably weren't supposed to talk until the Queen addressed you.
She certainly didn't seem to care. Her eyes glinted mischievously, and she smiled as if she was thrilled by the idea of shocking the entire city. "Well, here I am." She said simply, taking a large drink of the same ale you struggled to drink merely moments before.
Your cheeks flushed once more as you realized what you had done in front of your Queen and King.
The Queen waved a hand. "Oh, don't worry about that. You can't be what, more than eighteen? It happens to everyone, when they first try alcohol."
The King coughed at her side, somewhat indignantly.
She held eye contact with you, rolling her eyes as she responded to her mate. "Oh, please, Buzzard. Sellene has told me some stories…"
The King tensed, but said nothing.
The Queen grinned triumphantly for a moment, then her smile dimmed as she leaned closer to you. "Someone who has gone so long without drinking typically has a reason for taking that first sip. What were you drinking to forget?" She asked, her voice strangely soft.
You felt your face instantly crumple, and tried your best to hold in the tears in front of your Queen and King. If your mother could see you now… the thought only worsened your grief.
To your eternal surprise, the Queen stood gracefully and crossed to the other side of the table, resting a hand on your bowed shoulder. "Who have you lost?" She whispered, a haunted look on her face.
"My mother died this afternoon," You choked out.
With a quiet sigh, a sad sigh, your Queen sat next to you. "Is she the first person you've lost?"
You could do nothing more than nod. Because, in reality, you hadn't truly lost your father. He chose to leave, and until now you had never doubted that you would be better off without him. He had always been out there, and if you wanted, you could find him. But your mother… you really had lost her forever.
The thought did nothing to calm you down.
The hand on your shoulder began moving in slow circling movements, a warmth different from the warmth of the ale flooding your muscles.
"What else have you lost?" The Queen whispered in that haunted tone.
You couldn't explain what made you answer, other than the fact that even if she was the Queen, she was there. She was asking you questions, and genuinely caring about the answers. "I'm going to lose my house. I can't possibly make enough money sewing to pay off the debts my mother's sickness got us into…"
The Queen's hand froze. You glanced up to find her eyes meeting the King's across the table. Without looking at you, she asked, "The healers still haven't arrived?"
Something told you you didn't have to answer. You grew up in a country invaded by monsters, and learned how to read them very quickly. If you knew when to avoid pressing them, angering them, you could avoid being touched by them in ways the other girls had nightmares about. So you learned, to protect yourself and your fragile mother.
You could read the guilt on the Queen's face as easily as if you were reading a book, and decided to respond anyway. "They told us there was a storm that prevented them from arriving in time. They're supposed to arrive in a day or two, just before you were scheduled to arrive." You meant to comfort her, explain that it wasn't her fault, but she kept staring at her mate with hollowed eyes.
"We have healers in Orynth. We could have…"
Some silent conversation seemed to occur between the Queen and King, something even you couldn't follow. After a few moments, the Queen broke eye contact, the hollowed look fading but not quite disappearing from her bright eyes.
"So you sew to make a living?" She asked, eyes scanning your worn cloak.
The cloak had been made from scraps, a few years ago when your mother had taught you to sew before weakness crippled her. "I repair clothes, but I prefer to design my own dresses." You felt foolish, talking about your simple job with two of the people that drove darkness out of Erilea and now rule a country en route to prospering, but decided to take off your cloak anyway, revealing the object of your pride underneath.
It was a simple gown, made of elegant green fabric patterned with golden whorls that seemed to shimmer in the meager pub light. It hugged your upper figure, then flared at your hips. The sleeves ran the length of your arms, with delicate cutouts trailing down your forearms. It had taken you many days to sew by hand, and had been one of your mother's favorites. You had made it to be sold to a merchant, but your mother had requested you wear it earlier in the morning when she suspected the end was near, and you couldn't bring yourself to take it off.
You didn't know what you expected, but it certainly wasn't the look of admiration that crossed the Queen's face. "It's gorgeous." She said, a hint of a smile on her lips. "I have seamstresses in Orynth, but none that make dresses like that."
You couldn't help but beam at the compliment. For a moment, everything was perfect, and then you remembered what had happened today. Your smile quickly disappeared.
"Keep sewing, keep working hard, and I promise you things will work out," The Queen said to you, before sliding out of the booth. The King stood, joining her at her side after placing a few coins (way more than the cost of their drinks) on the table.
"We decided to come early to get a realistic sense of the town, and I hope you can remain discreet about seeing us here," Your Queen continued, before nodding her head in a slight bow. "It was a pleasure to meet you."
And like that, they were gone, leaving you to wonder if it all was a hallucination caused by drinking too much.
You wandered home, dazed, torn between amazement at meeting your Queen and King, grief, and guilt for having felt happy so soon after your mother died.
Your wandering delayed your return home, and you didn't arrive until late at night, long past most of the townspeople had fallen asleep. You no longer had to worry about walking around alone at night, something you owed to the Queen you just met.
You stared up at the house, wondering how many times you would be allowed to enter before they took it away. You made sure to lock the door behind you and didn't need any light to navigate your way through the dark house.
That is, until you tripped on something as you crossed the floor of your room to climb into your bed. You landed, sprawled on a ragged rug your mother had knitted years ago, and quickly fumbled for the match and candle you kept by your bedside. The hiss of the match against the candle wick sounded, and the flame cast shadows along the walls.
You almost dropped the candle as your eyes filled with tears. In the middle of the carpet were six large sacks, and one glance inside of them showed that they were filled with gold. You grabbed a note on top of one of the bags, and laughed through the tears as you read it.
Dear Seamstress,
Keep working hard, despite the loss you face. It's not going to be easy. This should be more than enough to pay off the debts you face, and perhaps you'll have a little extra to put towards opening a shop where you can sell the dresses you are talented enough to make. I can promise you I'll be a devoted customer. Or, perhaps if you would be willing to leave Suria, you could make your way to Orynth, where a position as my personal seamstress will be waiting for you.
Either way, tonight was not the last we'll see each other.
-Aelin