a fist that she brings up to her mouth. Speaking around her hands, she continues. "I did not fall down a mineshaft. I. Was... Thrown!" She shutters. "Then I landed here." She drops her hand and lifts her chin. "Now I command respect. How can I help you?"
"Actually, we were hoping to speak to you in private?" Lincoln clears his throat, loosening the grip he has on my hand.
The queen’s attention tilts over to Captain Beatrice. The captain snaps her fingers and walks through the castle, either she's too confident for her own good, or she's familiar with the castle. Which would mean that the tale she spun for us isn't entirely true.
"We're alone." She gestures to the entryway. Just Lincoln, the queen, the trolls, and I.
"Alone. Alone." Lincoln looks at the guards.
"Oh, that isn't going to happen."
The trolls haven't moved an inch. They are as good as statues anyway, I try to reason with my anxiety. Because the question we are about to ask her shouldn't be shared. If there is a way out it's carefully hidden and prying ears are never a good thing.
"Well get on with it," Anastasia commands.
"We're trying to find a way out." I say, likely much less elegantly than however Lincoln would phrase it.
"A way out...? A way out of what exactly? If you've made some sort of deal with Captain Beatrice, I'm afraid I'm unwilling to interfere. A deal is a deal."
"No. We need to get back home. You see, I too am a queen. I need to go to my throne."
Anastasia stops blinking. Stops breathing. Had I said the wrong thing?
"I'm in the presence of another queen. A Fae queen. Yes, you're right. You do need to go home." Anything kind in her tone dissolves. "Guards. Could you show them to their room?"
"Wait—”
"You haven't answered the question." Lincoln steps between me and the trolls that start to come to life once more.
"I grow tired of you. This conversation has made me uneasy. I need time to rest and we can talk it over... another day."
"What day? When?" I push even as the trolls fall to their sides and start rolling until they are squishing our toes and forcing us back.
"Another day."
She turns her back on us and strolls casually from the room.
Nine
Fuck Sparking
The door clicks shut, leaving Lincoln and I alone. The room we've been offered is small. I would compare it to my bedroom in my old apartment. God, that feels like years ago. Turning to face the room, I shrug and groan.
A queen-sized bed is pushed up against the wall, opposite a freshly lit hearth. A single dresser sits under a small circular window. And that's it. That's all there is to the tiny room.
"Well that didn't go as planned." Lincoln undoes his coat, carefully folding it before he sets it up on the dresser and starts to undo his boots.
Warmth from the fire warms my legs and I scoot a little closer, opening my palms to the heat. I don't want to be a piece of forgotten history. I don't want to be stuck in this court, forced to find myself a home in the forest where I'll always be running into strangers. That is not for me.
What would the Fae say? What are they saying right now? Where do they think their Mortal Queen has gone? Do they think that I have abandoned them? Or died? Do they think I'm hiding?
The possibilities are endless, and each one more infuriating than the last. I haven't given up on them. I'm just... stuck. With that thought comes a long and low sigh.
"Here." Ziko runs his arms over my shoulders, then draws them up over my chest to start undoing the buttons of my coats. My attention lands on his face. "The fire will warm you soon enough."
"What are we going to do now?" The question hangs between us with no ready answers. Really, there was no need to say it out loud when Lincoln's mind is already following every bunny trail of an idea for a solution.
My jackets peel away, leaving my shoulders feeling light. But the weight of the situation still presses down on me. I lower to the floor. With my boots propped in front of me, facing the fire, I pat the space next to me for Lincoln to sit. He folds my coat neatly and sets it next to his.
"You don't have to do that."
"Do what?" he asks as he folds his legs underneath him, stretching