It was another one of our interminable princess deportment sessions. Queenie was holding Mia's head with one hand and her left shoulder with the other. I was drinking cream tea and making kissy-face at Satine, who was sitting on the corner of the couch holding a feather duster.
"Mia--no, don't--dear, please DO try to stand up straight, like this and--oh, for heaven's sake..." Queenie stepped back. "Well, that's a start." She glanced at me. "Rachel, this may take a while. You may study your Genovian history. There is a book on my bed. Satine, you may go with her."
I finished my tea and slipped off the couch. "Yes, ma'am." Satine silently followed me.
I went down to Queenie's bedroom, which was pretty much what you'd expect from a queen. Gold, upholstery, lots of heavy old wood furniture.
I picked up the book. "A Definitive History of the Genovian Empire and its Neighbors." The author was one N.C. Snidersin. "Sounds fascinating."
Satine hovered by the doorway. "Is there anything you require, Madame?"
"Would you close the door, please?" I asked.
Satine did. "Is there anything you require...Rachelle?"
I patted the bed. "Sit down next to me."
She perched on the edge of the bed and gave me a shy, coquettish glance. I considered making use of the luxurious bed, but thought better of it. Queenie was clever. If she had just wanted me to make out with Satine, she wouldn't have put the book on the bed. And if she had wanted me just to read the book, she wouldn't have sent Satine with me.
"Satine, where do you come from? I've told you so much about myself, but you haven't told me anything."
Satine shook her head. "Madame, it's not of interest and it's not my place."
"It's of interest to me. And it IS your place. In fact, since you serve me, it's your duty to answer." I patted her hand. "Please, tell me."
"Tis a long story."
"We have time."
Satine was born in Florin, a small country right next to Genovia. Florin had been absorbed into the EEC in the 1930s. Even though it was still technically a nation, it had no political power whatsoever. It was supposed to be a monarchy, but the royal family had died out in the 15th century, when the last remaining prince had been overthrown by pirates, or so the story went.
"My mama always told me that I was descended from the princess that was meant to marry him. It was only a tale, but I do think I look like her picture in the Royal Gallery."
Satine's family had been upper-middle-class, as far as East Europeans go. When she was five years old, there had been an attempt at a revolution, and the house had been burned to the ground. Her parents had been put in jail, and she had been adopted by some Gypsies for a few years, until they had had been arrested for vagrancy in Genovia. The adults were sent to a work farm in Siberia (Genovia was allied with Russia at the time), and the children were put to work in the palace. Most of them were fired for stealing food or small pieces of jewelry, but Satine's mother had taught her well, and she was kept on as a maid.
"My parents are still in jail, even though the revolution failed after just a few months. I have been here for ten years now. As soon as I save up enough money, I will buy a ticket to my native country and take them back here. I think they will be able to get jobs in the embassy, possibly doing paperwork. It is not what they were used to, but it is better than languishing in a cell."
I patted Satine's hand. "Satine, I promise I shall raise money to free your parents."
She blushed. "Oh, madame, would you really?"
Mia had finally left, and Satine had been sent to supervise the sweeping of the stairs. I had some things to discuss with Queenie.
"You haven't learned how to gavotte yet, have you?" she asked me.
"No, because I haven't had TIME. I've been busy learning the entire history of Genovia and interrogating the maid."
Queenie smiled. "So she's told you her tragic story."
"Yes. She has. And I'm going to send her back to her family."
"No you aren't." Queenie carefully stirred her tea. It occured to me that I had never seen her without a cup of tea or a cigarette in her hand. "I acquainted you with Satine for a reason."
I blinked. "Wait. You arranged for me to hook up with Satine?"
"I rearranged her schedule so that you would meet her, instead of the maid I usually have at the times you are here. And there is, by the way, an excellent reason I've kept Satine on instead of letting her go, as would, I suppose be the compassionate thing to do. Besides the fact that she's an excellent maid, I mean."
I gaped. "You bitch. You royal bitch."
Queenie laughed. It sounded, literally, like wind chimes. "There is a reason for everything I do, dear." She rose and patted me on the shoulder. "The ball is in a week and we have a big day ahead of us. I suggest you get some sleep."
"You're going to be first against the wall when the revolution comes," I called after her.
"The only wall I'm going to be against is--" I couldn't hear the rest of her reply.
That night, I lay in bed, my mind racing. A cliche, I know, but apt.
All of my life, I had rebelled against every authority figure I could find. My mother, my teachers...And now I had discovered the ultimate authority figure. The very symbol of an antiquated, obselete power structure. An eminence gris that manipulated everyone around her for her own gain.
It was a hell of a shock to discover that I was on the same team.
"Mia--no, don't--dear, please DO try to stand up straight, like this and--oh, for heaven's sake..." Queenie stepped back. "Well, that's a start." She glanced at me. "Rachel, this may take a while. You may study your Genovian history. There is a book on my bed. Satine, you may go with her."
I finished my tea and slipped off the couch. "Yes, ma'am." Satine silently followed me.
I went down to Queenie's bedroom, which was pretty much what you'd expect from a queen. Gold, upholstery, lots of heavy old wood furniture.
I picked up the book. "A Definitive History of the Genovian Empire and its Neighbors." The author was one N.C. Snidersin. "Sounds fascinating."
Satine hovered by the doorway. "Is there anything you require, Madame?"
"Would you close the door, please?" I asked.
Satine did. "Is there anything you require...Rachelle?"
I patted the bed. "Sit down next to me."
She perched on the edge of the bed and gave me a shy, coquettish glance. I considered making use of the luxurious bed, but thought better of it. Queenie was clever. If she had just wanted me to make out with Satine, she wouldn't have put the book on the bed. And if she had wanted me just to read the book, she wouldn't have sent Satine with me.
"Satine, where do you come from? I've told you so much about myself, but you haven't told me anything."
Satine shook her head. "Madame, it's not of interest and it's not my place."
"It's of interest to me. And it IS your place. In fact, since you serve me, it's your duty to answer." I patted her hand. "Please, tell me."
"Tis a long story."
"We have time."
Satine was born in Florin, a small country right next to Genovia. Florin had been absorbed into the EEC in the 1930s. Even though it was still technically a nation, it had no political power whatsoever. It was supposed to be a monarchy, but the royal family had died out in the 15th century, when the last remaining prince had been overthrown by pirates, or so the story went.
"My mama always told me that I was descended from the princess that was meant to marry him. It was only a tale, but I do think I look like her picture in the Royal Gallery."
Satine's family had been upper-middle-class, as far as East Europeans go. When she was five years old, there had been an attempt at a revolution, and the house had been burned to the ground. Her parents had been put in jail, and she had been adopted by some Gypsies for a few years, until they had had been arrested for vagrancy in Genovia. The adults were sent to a work farm in Siberia (Genovia was allied with Russia at the time), and the children were put to work in the palace. Most of them were fired for stealing food or small pieces of jewelry, but Satine's mother had taught her well, and she was kept on as a maid.
"My parents are still in jail, even though the revolution failed after just a few months. I have been here for ten years now. As soon as I save up enough money, I will buy a ticket to my native country and take them back here. I think they will be able to get jobs in the embassy, possibly doing paperwork. It is not what they were used to, but it is better than languishing in a cell."
I patted Satine's hand. "Satine, I promise I shall raise money to free your parents."
She blushed. "Oh, madame, would you really?"
Mia had finally left, and Satine had been sent to supervise the sweeping of the stairs. I had some things to discuss with Queenie.
"You haven't learned how to gavotte yet, have you?" she asked me.
"No, because I haven't had TIME. I've been busy learning the entire history of Genovia and interrogating the maid."
Queenie smiled. "So she's told you her tragic story."
"Yes. She has. And I'm going to send her back to her family."
"No you aren't." Queenie carefully stirred her tea. It occured to me that I had never seen her without a cup of tea or a cigarette in her hand. "I acquainted you with Satine for a reason."
I blinked. "Wait. You arranged for me to hook up with Satine?"
"I rearranged her schedule so that you would meet her, instead of the maid I usually have at the times you are here. And there is, by the way, an excellent reason I've kept Satine on instead of letting her go, as would, I suppose be the compassionate thing to do. Besides the fact that she's an excellent maid, I mean."
I gaped. "You bitch. You royal bitch."
Queenie laughed. It sounded, literally, like wind chimes. "There is a reason for everything I do, dear." She rose and patted me on the shoulder. "The ball is in a week and we have a big day ahead of us. I suggest you get some sleep."
"You're going to be first against the wall when the revolution comes," I called after her.
"The only wall I'm going to be against is--" I couldn't hear the rest of her reply.
That night, I lay in bed, my mind racing. A cliche, I know, but apt.
All of my life, I had rebelled against every authority figure I could find. My mother, my teachers...And now I had discovered the ultimate authority figure. The very symbol of an antiquated, obselete power structure. An eminence gris that manipulated everyone around her for her own gain.
It was a hell of a shock to discover that I was on the same team.