Chapter 6 – Ginger's Questions

"Your majesty! What on Earth…" Ginger trailed off, hiking her sheets up to her neck as the king calmly sat down on the edge of her bed.

"I missed you at dinner," he said, his eyes glinting in the dying candlelight. "I thought I'd check and make sure you felt alright."

She sat up straighter and cocked her chin ever so slightly. "I'm feeling better," she said coldly. He scrutinized her for several seconds, before lowering his head.

"You're angry with me," he stated. She stared at him; was he angry? He certainly didn't seem it – but then what was he thinking behind those hard eyes?

"Your majesty, I…" she trailed off again, not knowing what to say. A few hours ago she would have been prepared to yell and scream at him for the humiliation he'd put her through, but now she was uncertain. His demeanor was gentler, apologetic even.

"Ginger, surely an intelligent girl like yourself knows why I had to say what I said," he said, his voice softer than usual, but his eyes still hard as ice.

She sighed, fiddling with the edge of her blanket.

"I did not mean any of it," he went on, looking straight into her eyes this time. Her breath caught in her throat for a moment, and she scrutinized him much as he had just scrutinized her. Could he possibly be telling the truth? She wanted to believe him, but wasn't so sure she could. She met his gaze with a small smile.

"We're very much alike, you and I," she said quietly. She was pleasantly surprised when he chuckled.

"I believe we are," he replied. She eased her grip on the sheets and let them fall a little.

"Our pride sometimes gets the better of us," she said boldly. His look turned fiery, but not angry. And then, very suddenly, she believed him. She knew that all he had said that afternoon had been lies intended to satiate a public who would have turned hostile had they thought the king took Ginger as anything more than a servant. It was all there in those dark eyes that were burning into hers.

"That it does," he said, his voice deep and growling. In a moment, he had moved down the bed so that he was mere inches away from her. Ginger's heart was racing; not five minutes ago, she had been hating this man. So why did she have the sudden urge to feel his lips on hers? Her breath caught in her throat as he suddenly reached out and brought his hand to the side of her neck, his thumb stroking her jaw. His touch was electrifying.

"Ginger," he murmured.

A loud knock came at the door, followed by the sound of footsteps entering the room. The king dropped his hand in an instant, and Ginger immediately hiked her sheets back up to her chin.

"Your majesty, I do apologize for the interruption," came a silky yet grating voice. Lord Agustino swept into the light, his watery eyes filled with mirth at the scene before him.

"Not at all, Agustino," the king said, his voice returning to its usual formality. He stood, causing Ginger to shiver at the sudden lack of warmth.

"I'm sorry, Miss Ginger, but I must steal the king away. Sire, we've just received some reports from Parfalia," Lord Agustino went on. The king nodded, and without even so much as glancing at Ginger, strode out of the room. She glared at Agustino as he smiled wickedly at her.

"Just a toy," he said softly before sliding back into the shadows.

It took Ginger a few moments to clear her head. Once her heart rate had returned to its normal rhythm, she sighed and fell back onto the pillows. It was possible, she reasoned with herself, that Agustino was right. The king could be toying with her, playing a game all his own, in which she was just a mere plaything. But there had been something there, something true, in his eyes, as he had reached out and touched her. They were terribly similar, and she knew exactly what he had been feeling: lonely and misunderstood.

As her eyes closed and she drifted off into sleep, however, there was only one question on her mind: now what?

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When Ginger woke up the following morning and made her way out of the room, she found five guards stationed outside her door. She was told that the king had been called away on urgent business, and that the extra guard was there for her protection. When she asked why she needed to be protected, she was answered with silence. Her stomach settled into a state of anxiety; something was going on, and she had the sneaking suspicion that whatever business the king had been called away on, it had to do with her.

Ginger left her room around mid-morning, having been driven out by the constant sound of hammering and falling stone from the straw chamber. She made up her mind quickly; she was going to go see Lord Agustino, and see if she couldn't get him to tell her what the bloody hell was going on.

To her great annoyance, however, the guards jumped up when she left her room and followed her down several hallways until one of them finally asked her where she was going. She turned around, blushing a little, because in truth she had no idea where she was going.

"To see Lord Agustino. Am I going the right way?" she asked.

A few of the guards looked at each other uncomfortably. "Well, yes, Miss Ginger, but Lord Agustino is not in Ende. He accompanied the king on his business," one of them answered.

Ginger growled and stamped her foot. "So what am I supposed to do? Just wait around for them to return?"

"Well, your straw should be ready soon," one replied helpfully. Ginger threw up her hands and stormed past them. They trotted quickly behind her as she stomped back to her room. She slammed the door in their faces and then leaned against it, her hands furled into fists. It had all been a lie; the king had meant everything he had said yesterday! Otherwise he would have at least written a letter, a brief note, anything, explaining why he had left so suddenly and why there were five guards trailing her wherever she went! She felt like such a fool for believing him; how he must be laughing at her now.

She groaned and went to sit by the bay window. She wasn't so sure how long she could stay here if her emotions were going to swing so violently like this almost every day. She took several deep breaths and focused on the horses that were running freely outside on the lawn. Freely… of course! How could she have not thought of it? The business wasn't about her, he just didn't want her running away while he was gone. She laughed out loud, amused by her arrogance. He would come back and the guards would be gone; that was a much more reasonable explanation.

Ginger then stood up and went to the door. She apologized to the guards for her earlier behavior, and then beckoned them to follow her to the library.

The king did not return the next day, or the following day, or the day after that. But as one of the guards predicted, Ginger's straw room was ready within three days; it now looked positively enormous, considering it was now double the size of her bedchamber. The guards told her that the king had said she could have three nights to finish it all – no negotiation. She had quickly asked if they knew where he was, but yet again they suddenly seemed to have no tongues. A few minutes later, one guard asked her if he could possibly watch her as she spun, but she took her cue from them and remained silent.

Night quickly loomed, and her guards – whom by now she had become rather friendly with – gently reminded her that she needed to be back in her room. She waved them goodbye, and then heard the familiar click of the lock as the door closed behind her. At first she heard nothing from the straw room, and as she changed into her night shift, her palms started to sweat. What if her little man did not return this time? What if he didn't know she was in trouble again?

She went to the vanity and took down her hair and spent several minutes brushing it straight. She then carefully took off her mother's locket and put it safely in the jewelry box. In its place, she clasped a silver strand around her neck, from which hung a perfectly-cut, gleaming red ruby. In order to ward off the man's suspicion, she also slipped on a matching ruby ring on her right hand.

Ginger sat in the spindly chair, forcing herself to stay awake. Midnight slipped past, and yet still, she heard nothing from the room. She stood and started to pace, trying to work off her anxious tension and trying not to think of what would happen to her if he never showed up.

Finally, at half past twelve, she heard it: the soft whirring of the spinning wheel. She jumped and hurried to the door. Flinging it open, she found the candles lit and the wheel spinning, a pile of gold thread already on the floor.

"Hello?" she said softly. From out behind a mountain of straw slunk her little man, looking much the same as he had before. He stopped within three feet of her and bowed low.

"It is a pleasure to see thee again," he said, his voice curling around her like a ring of smoke.

"And you… I admit, I was afraid you might not come," she said quietly. He held his hat in his hands as he bowed his head.

"I do apologize, madam… I was delayed," he said.

She furrowed her brow, wanting to ask what had delayed him, but deciding against it.

"Well, there is much more straw this time… what can I give you for your troubles?" she asked, bringing her right hand to rest on her left elbow.

Once again, he swept his eyes up and down her frame; for a moment, she saw a gleam in his eyes that seemed to suggest he was going to ask for something besides her jewelry. But then he bowed and spoke again in his low voice.

"Thy necklace and thy ring, madam, should suffice," he said, looking back up at her. Ginger didn't answer right away, for she was momentarily struck speechless; the little man was smiling at her, but it stretched wide and wickedly across his face, making his beady eyes glint viciously. But then he took a step forward and his face returned to its smooth, blank self.

"Ah… yes, of course," she stuttered, still put off. He bowed yet again and then slunk back into the shadows. It took Ginger a moment to collect her wits and turn around to leave the room.

Once back on her bed, Ginger sunk into the pillows, her heart still as anxious as it had been before her little man had appeared. There was something sinister about that creature that she hadn't noticed before. It was almost as if he was plotting something, something that would make her give up more than just some jewelry.

As Ginger fell asleep, however, she sternly reminded herself that she couldn't worry about him; she needed him much more than he needed her.

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The next day dawned dark and rainy. Ginger wandered into the straw room; several of the straw piles had been turned into gleaming gold once again. The sight did not thrill her as much as it once had, and she ate her breakfast by the bed in her robe. She didn't dress all morning; around noon, the guards at her door knocked to make sure she was alright. She assured them that she was still there, but that she hadn't slept much last night. They seemed to buy it, and when she finally emerged around one, they walked softly behind her and didn't speak. She made her way purposefully to the second floor foyer, outside of the ballroom where she had once attended court. She was dressed much simpler this time, in a long-sleeved, full-length gown, her hair pulled halfway back and resting on her shoulders.

Ginger wasn't sure what she was looking for, but she examined each painting and placard closely. All she wanted was to understand the king better, and what better way than to study his family? She came to a rest in front of the painting of King Alfred, the current king's father. He was a strong, almost brutal-looking man, but his eyes, unlike his son's, were warm and twinkling. He had a large, bushy mustache and a tall, sculpted body. Ginger gazed at him, trying to understand how Terrence had come to be the way he was. King Alfred had been kind and generous, whereas Terrence was calculating and avaricious. Next to the portrait of King Alfred was a small picture of the Parfalian king he had defeated in battle. The king had survived, but had been forced to give up a large amount of territory. Ginger narrowed her eyes as she stared at the picture; something wasn't right here. The people of Aurelia had been told that the Parfalian king had been subdued, and convinced to live in peace. From the looks of him, however, he did not seem like a man who would be happy about being subdued. Indeed, no Parfalian would take defeat easily. She wondered…

A loud sneeze from one of the guards disrupted her reverie. She straightened and hastily moved on, only to find herself at the end of the line of portraits. She sighed but took one last look around; her visit had produced much more questions than answers.

Ginger spent the rest of the day quietly in her room, reading. She ate a small dinner and then waited; tonight, however, she did not have to wait long. By eight o'clock, she could hear the spinning wheel. She stood and made her way slowly to the door. Her hand paused hesitantly over the knob, wondering whether what she was about to do was a wise decision. Her anxiety eventually won out, and she pulled open the door and walked in.

"Is something wrong, my lady?" came the creature's voice; moments later, he appeared to her left. She started at his appearance, which was decidedly disheveled. His hair was unkempt, and he was wearing just brown slacks and a loose white shirt. She did not reply for several seconds.

"I apologize for my appearance," he said, noticing her shock. "I didst not think I would see thee tonight."

She nodded, understanding. "I'm sorry… I can leave if –"

"No, not at all," he interrupted, lifting his hand. "Please, come in."

She walked into the room a little further, and took a seat at the wheel. It really was just spinning by itself, the gold thread appearing in a pool on the floor. She studied it for a moment, trying to see where exactly the straw was turning into gold. To her frustration, she couldn't tell; the gold seemed to just materialize.

"Do ye have a question, my lady?" he asked. She turned to find him examining a nearby mound of straw.

"Oh… well… yes, actually," she stammered.

"I will try to answer."

She nodded, twisting her fingers together. "Forgive me, but I just want to know why you're here."

"To help thee," he replied simply. She sighed.

"Yes, but how did you know I needed help?" she responded quickly. "I mean, if the king finds out…"

"He will not," he said. "As for how did I know… I could sense it. The smell of desperation was wafting out of the castle, and I knew from whence it came."

She stared at him open-mouthed. "You could… smell my desperation?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes, Ginger."

This halted her. He had never said her name before. "You know my name."

"Yes, Ginger of Tivilla. I have watched thee for some time. Thou art a clever girl, Ginger. But I knew you wouldst not be able to get thyself out of this alone."

"You've watched me?" she said, recoiling slightly. The feeling of dread from the night before was returning.

"Yes… as an admirer. I watched thee trick the tax collector into taking not a quarter of what he had come for. I was impressed."

She stared at him, aghast. "I… I didn't realize you knew me," she said hoarsely.

"Yes, for some time now," he said. "I knew I could help thee, and here I am."

Something flickered in her mind. "Sir, I should tell you that the jewelry…"

"Is not thine?" he said, his eyes glittering. He was standing right in front of her now, gently caressing the wheel. "Yes, I know. It is the king's."

"Yes," Ginger replied softly.

"That is why I accept it," he went on, a bite in his voice. She arched her brow, and looked at him quizzically.

"So… you are a… a magical person?" she asked carefully.

He bowed low yet again. "Yes, Ginger. My peoples prefer to live quietly, but any small way I can take from him like he took what was ours from us…" he looked away, walking over to a pile of straw close by. Ginger looked at him sadly, although a small part of her argued her that King Terrence had not forced the magical peoples into their forest, a king several generations ago had. But it wasn't as if he was doing anything about it, either.

She stood, feeling overcome by fatigue. Even in here, she could hear the rain battering the windows.

"Well, I shouldn't keep you," Ginger said. The little man turned and bowed his head.

"I hope I have made thee more comfortable," he said.

She nodded. "Yes, you have. Good night."

"Good night, Ginger."

She left the room and closed the door quietly behind her. She crept into bed and put out the light, leaving her thoughts for tomorrow.

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Ginger woke the next day to find that the rain had not let up; indeed, she had to look at her clock just to make sure it was morning. The sky was ominously dark, and Ginger could barely see five feet out of the window. The maids scurried in with breakfast, and as usual did not stay to chat. A knot had been tied in Ginger's stomach overnight, and she found she couldn't eat her breakfast. If anything, the little man had made her even more uncomfortable than before. She had never truly stopped to think where he had come from before; she naturally assumed he was magical, a sorcerer of some sort, but she had never pondered why he had come here to help her. And she felt like she still didn't know. He said he had watched her, seen her before she had ever come to the palace – how was that possible? The magical forest was leagues away from Cuira County, a very far distance to travel just to watch someone. There was something he wasn't telling her, but she realized she hardly wanted to know what that was.

Ginger felt very lonely that morning, even with her five guards trailing behind her as she wandered the castle. Her father was far away in Tivilla, and she had no true friends to speak of. In all honesty, the person she most wanted to speak with was the king, and heavens knew when he was returning. Despite her ever-changing emotions toward him, she felt a connection with him she had never felt with anyone before. She longed to tell him of the little man, to hear what he thought of the fact that he had been watching her for so long. Of course, it was completely impossible, but she longed for it anyway.

The palace was quiet, but a few courtiers were hanging around and gossiping amongst themselves. They stared at her as she wandered by, a young woman in a plain blue muslin dress surrounded by five soldiers. She finally came to a stop on a bench in the grand foyer, where groups of courtiers were huddled.

"I heard he's gone to Moriana, to fend off a ship of pirates that arrived there last week," a man was saying nearby. Ginger perked up and listened closely.

"Pirates? That's nonsense. The king has better things to do with his time," another man said.

"Pirates do still raid those port cities. It's a very real threat!"

"You live here in Ende, what do you know?" Laughter.

"He's not in Moriana, you fool," yet another man said. "He's in Parfalia, negotiating with the king."

"Negotiating for what?" the others asked excitedly.

"He's trying to calm them down. They want Gelda back," the man reported, naming a large county at the Parfalian-Aurelian border.

"Those fools. Gelda is guarded by thousands of men! They'll never get it back."

Suddenly there was a deafening sound as the doors to the hall were rattled open. Ginger felt a spray of wetness, as she was sitting by the door. Behind a billowing cape swept Lord Agustino, who seemed surprised by the number of people in the foyer. They all jumped at the sight of him and swarmed, firing questions a mile a minute. He answered no one as he tried to extricate himself from the throng; the only time he spoke was to say that the king was traveling behind him. He caught sight of Ginger as he said this, and something in his eyes made her worry. Because he looked worried.

Agustino finally managed to free himself and stormed out of the hall. The courtiers immediately burst out into loud flurries of conversation, but Ginger didn't want to listen. She stood and walked out of the foyer, followed as usual by her guards. She went to the atrium, a huge glass-encased room that looked right out onto the stables. It was raining harder than ever, but through the thick sheet she saw a group of men riding toward the stables. She searched the group, but did not find the king, and her heart fell. Those must be the men who had gone with him, as his own protection, mustn't it? Where was he?

She stayed in the atrium for over an hour. The soldiers who had arrived earlier had long since gone inside, their heads bent. Ginger started to pace the length of the room as her guards sat against the wall, uneasily following her movements with their eyes. After what felt like an eternity, Ginger stopped pacing. This was ridiculous; she was worrying too much. Perhaps the king had come back already, even, and she hadn't seen him. She sighed and stopped pacing. She would just go back into her room and…

"Your majesty!" she suddenly screamed. She had just looked out the window only to the see the king riding slowly up to the stables, slumped over his horse. She tore out of the room, quickly followed by her guards. She was instantly drenched as she ran toward the king; as she neared, she found him sliding slowly off his horse, one arm clutched around his stomach. She put both arms around his shoulders as he fell off. She sunk to her knees as he fell onto her legs. In the distance, she heard a guard yell for a doctor, while another handed her his cloak. She draped it over the king, covering his ensanguined shirt and shielding his face so that he could catch his breath. After a minute or two, his eyes opened and caught sight of Ginger.

"Ginger…" he murmured. She bent down and wiped his wet hair off his face.

"You're going to be alright, they've called for the doctor," she said with a shaky smile. He looked so pale; his eyes seemed faded, somehow.

"Ginger…" he murmured again. She bent lower so that she could hear.

"I am going to protect you," he said.

"What?" she asked, but too soon she was being thrust aside by the doctor, who began yelling at the guards to get the king inside. She started following them, but at the doors to the medicine hall, the doctor turned and slammed the doors in her face. She stood still for a moment, staring at the door and dripping on the carpet. What could it mean?

She shivered and turned away, striding quickly back to her room. She was shivering violently by the time she was finally back in her room and turning on the bath. The events of the past few days were churning in her mind… for some reason, she felt as if there was a connection. But as she sunk into her hot bathwater, only one question loomed in her mind:

Protect her from what?

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A/N: Wow… it has literally been a year and two months since I updated this story. Honestly, it doesn't feel like it's been that long, but… wow.

Anyway, I'm hoping to update this a little more regularly from now on. I do love this story, and I have where it's going in my mind, so please review! The last time I updated I received only one review which, as pathetic as it sounds, made me not want to update. So please review and give me your thoughts. I'm a little rusty. Thanks!

Love, luck, and flying Ringwraiths,

Emma the NazgulQueen