Gweneida tried to ignore Faenach's continuous chatter by staring outside the carriage window. Twirling a loose curl around and around her finger. It was a habit that she had had for years, and one that Faenach could not make her break. No matter how hard she tried.
Faenach only talked so continuously when she was trying to convince Basil of something. It was very simple and very effective. If she talked at sufficient length, Basil inevitably gave in to her wishes.
The kingdom the carriage was driving through, and that hosted the ball, was covered in rolling fields. Gweneida thought it was very beautiful, but preferred the forests of her home country. As far as the eye could see there grew an ocean of wheat. It rippled in the wind, creating waves of gold. Interrupted only by a rare house or lone figure working the fields. Gweneida sighed. No matter how hard she tried she could not keep her stepmother's voice out of her head.
"Really, Basil, the child is a disgrace! She was conversing with that lowly knight. And it amazes me that you can even call him that! Does he have any lands of his own? Well, no matter, Gweneida should not have been talking with him, let alone flirting with him."
Despite herself, Gweneida could not help raising an eyebrow. Faenach flirted much more then she did, and often took things considerably further than flirting. It was more than just a little hypocritical for her to say that Gweneida was a flirt. And she had not been flirting! Even though Gweneida knew it was useless to try to defend herself, she felt that she should at least try. "I was merely talking with Sir Brendan, Madame. Nothing in his manner or dress indicated that he was unsuitable company."
Faenach lifted her aristocratic nose into the air and sniffed. "Well, he is. You shall not speak with him again."
Surprised, Gweneida blinked. Faenach had always disapproved of her suitors, but she had never outright forbidden Gweneida to speak with them. What was it about Brendan that made the queen so stern? Before Gweneida could question her stepmother about her odd behavior, however, Basil interrupted.
"Now that is quite harsh, my dear. I know the lad myself and found him to be quite a respectable young man. Otherwise I would never have introduced him to Gweneida." Basil spoke his opinion on rare occasions, and even more rarely disagreed with his wife. His few rebellions were repressed by Faenach and very seldom did he get his way, even though he was king.
"I know you are eager for our dear Gweneida to be wed, my beloved, but do you think this man would be the best one?"
Momentarily Basil looked tempted to agree, but then he shook his head. "No, Faenach, I must insist on allowing Gweneida to see Brendan again if she pleases."
Always Gweneida hated it when they spoke of her as if she were absent, so she could not resist putting her say into the matter. "Actually, I found him quite charming. Much more so than many of the other men of higher birth." Gweneida knew what she said was true, and knew from her brief time with him that he was a lot better than all the others.
It was as if she had not spoken. "Basil, you can't really mean that can you?" Faenach said as she smiled sweetly and batted her flaxen eyelashes. Again Basil seemed tempted to agree with his wife, but continued to shake his head, firm in his decision. Her expression changed from serene to menacing, but was smoothed over almost instantly as she sat back in her chair. Gweneida sat stiffly beside her and glared at her father. Even if she had agreed with him in this argument, she could not stand it when he made decisions for her without her consent so that he might go on ignoring her as quickly as possible. He had done this forever, but it never stopped hurting.
***
Faenach never tired of looking in her mirror. It lay in her hidden room, which opened from the tapestry in her sitting room. Behind the tapestry there was a long winding staircase. Several candles that were magicked to never burn out dimly lit the room. The walls of the room were lined with shelves that held her experiments, vials of potion, and ancient magical texts. On the far side of the room was the mirror.
Combing out her luxurious, pale blond locks as she gazed at herself in the mirror always relaxed her. And today had been a trying day. It was such a pain to have to convince Basil of something. Making him a complete slave of her magic would be too noticeable. And the commoners still loved their king. For some reason, they clung to their memory of the days when Thalia had still been alive, when he had still been a good king. The spell that he was under was much more subtle, giving him less will of him own. Unfortunately, he sometimes still got an idea in his head, and he wanted his daughter married and off his hands. It was a relief that he already was so distant from the girl; otherwise it would make things very difficult.
Gweneida was getting harder and harder to control, and Faenach needed her. Without Gweneida it would be very difficult to keep up her youthful appearance. For the last year Faenach had been slowly draining her stepdaughter of her youth. So far it was unnoticeable, but soon it would become more so. It was lucky that she had all her other magic to help keep her beauty fresh, making it unnecessary to drain Gweneida too much, or Basil would become suspicious. As much as he avoided his daughter, he still would not allow her to be spellbound. At least the girl was good for something; she was very good-looking, and more importantly young. It was much easier to take someone's age away from them when they were still a youth. No, she would just have to keep Gweneida here for as long as she could. Her beauty was important. It got her from a poor whore to a powerful queen. Being the most beautiful woman in the world gave her power. And who did not want power?
It was getting difficult though, and that young lord (did Basil say his name was Brendan?) made her nervous. It was time to consult the mirror. The mirror was one of her earliest magical endeavors, though one of her favorites. It was a thing of great beauty. The oval frame was made out of ebony wood, and on it were carvings that depicted the symbols that were to be used for the spell. The surface of the mirror itself was clearer than an ordinary mirror, showing Faenach's beauty to its full. The spirit inside could show her anything. Could tell her anything. It never lied.
"Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?" she asked. Today she needed the conviction that she was.
"You are my queen. You are the fairest of them all," replied the mirror. And Faenach was content.