At some point in my pain-hazed journey to the infirmary Loste must have asked someone where my mother was, because there wasn’t a mote of hesitation in her stride as she led me through the palace towards the royal bedchamber.

Any softness or sympathy that she’d shown prior to my visit with Ques and Si was completely absent now that I was fully healed. She didn’t even look back once to ensure I was following behind. I wasn’t sure whether that was a sign she trusted I’d take responsibility and wouldn’t hide from the consequences of my actions, or simply a sign that she simply didn’t care about me at all.

We strode swiftly through the sumptuously decorated hallways of the residential wing of the palace. The queen’s bedchambers were of course at the northernmost point of the entire complex, but the residential part of the palace resembled a maze more than a normal house. When I was younger Ed’s older sister Fallie had told a rapt audience of six year olds that it was built that way to contain the ghost of my evil ancestor King Ong the Broken who still haunted the building in which he’d been betrayed. More likely it was simply a consequence of generations upon generations of monarchs each of which with different ideas about what made a proper palace layout all muddied together, but that wasn’t nearly as spooky or interesting.

Fallie herself was guarding the door to the queen’s bedchambers. She’d preferred to go by her full name of Faliana since the day she turned fourteen, but Edwin and I still called her Fallie because what were younger siblings and adopted siblings for if not to be a pain in the ass? Her great Grey Wolf, Vess, lay opposite from her, seemingly asleep. I knew she could spring up from her position in less than a second to tear out the throat of an attacker. I’d seen her do it once.

“Emily Loste presenting with Her Royal Highness Princess Evariste for Her Majesty’s pleasure,” said Guardswoman Loste, saluting her Queensguard superior smartly.

“At ease, Loste. I heard you had quite an adventure on babysitting duty tonight. Not exactly a great introduction to the guard,” Fallie replied, face stony but eyes crinkled in a suppressed smirk. I’d known the guards referred to tailing me on my little townside jaunts as “babysitting” but it had never felt more appropriate and humiliating than in that moment.

“Hiya Fallie,” I offered sheepishly from behind Loste’s back.

“Ris,” she replied calmly. “Your mother is eager to speak with you.”

I winced. “Bet she is. Any chance Vess can like bite my hand off so I have an excuse to go back to the infirmary?”

It was a joke, but I saw Loste stiffen in front of me in response. Damn, I’d really made a bad impression. And had Fallie been saying it was her first day?

Vess herself raised her head up and blinked at me softly, revealing bright blue piercing eyes. .

I could tell from the lack of startled affront in Loste’s posture that the wolf had sent her comments to me only, or perhaps to Fallie as well. I could never read that woman. But certainly the use of a nickname for Her Royal Majesty would have provoked a response in the new guard, much less the knowledge that the regal beauty who had ruled Lymnis for decades could cry.

It certainly provoked a response in me. It had been many years since I last made my mother cry. The shame at doing it again coiled in my belly like a serpent settling in for a long hibernation. It was a cold weight dragging me down, pulling on the rest of me like gravity intensifying. I took a few too many deep breaths, and felt my hands start to tingle.

Before I could fully lose my nerve and make things even worse, I pushed past Loste and slid open the door, giving Fallie and Vess a cursory nod as I prepared to face the music.

I opened the door into my mother’s bedchambers and entered a world of scarlet. The bedsheets were red, a bright satiny shade that stood out against the darker maroon of the bedcovers and blankets laid atop them. The curtains by the window were a lighter shade, almost pink, while the tapestry that hung behind the dark wooden headboard was a brilliant vermillion with figures picked out in golden thread across. I’d always loved this room, an architectural reminder of my mother’s strength. Queen Alouette’s talent was simple, but devastatingly effective in the right circumstance. She had a degree of control over anything red, with her strength and precision increasing as the shades drew closer and closer to what she called a “true scarlet.” In this room, she was nigh on invincible, with every object within it at her beck and call. I’d never felt safer than when I sat with her here on the burgundy carpet that covered the floor, thick and shaggy, listening to her read me a book or complain about some new court drama

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Mother herself was wearing a silk nightgown of a deep mauve and she looked up to me from her position seated behind her large desk tucked into the northwest corner of the room. There was no sign of the tears Vess had mentioned, any traces scoured away firmly. She presented a perfect picture of the competent queen, working away late into the night. I’d never have known, and I was sure Loste wouldn’t either.

“Evariste. Thank you for joining me. And you as well, Guardswoman. I appreciate you making the time so late at night.” She was cuttingly polite, and I would have winced if I wasn’t on the verge of passing out from the combination of exhaustion and guilt I felt wracking my body. “I require an explanation of the evening’s events.”

Loste stepped forward and opened her mouth, but I cut her off. “I embarrassed myself and nearly got an innocent man killed, Mother. I take full responsibility.”

“Do you now?” That got me a raised eyebrow from the queen, and a brief flash of shock in Loste’s eyes. I allowed myself the tiniest moment of satisfaction that I’d managed to surprise her by doing something reasonable for once.

I proceeded to relate the events of the evening in as impartial a tone as I could manage, my voice breaking only when I got to the moment I’d punched Mr. Foster and I saw the sadness in Mother’s eyes. I could see the guardswoman next to me stiffening as we drew closer and closer to the moment when she stepped in.

“Thankfully, Guardswoman Loste was there to intervene. She quickly defused the immediate situation, ensured I was in no further danger, and after a brief conference with me discussing her plan, took Mr. Foster into temporary custody.”

There it was. With a single sentence I’d changed her actions from a new guard making a decision with potentially disastrous political consequences into a new guard coming up with a brilliant plan and getting given the authority to execute it. Emily Loste let out a sigh, and I could swear I heard a whispered, “Thank you,” in among the exhalation. That only made the serpent in my stomach coil tighter.

What a situation you’ve gotten yourself into, I thought. Where a woman is thanking you for not ruining her life in exchange for potentially saving yours. How low have I made the bar in her mind?

I continued my tale, only editing out our brief cliffside encounter, and brought Mother up to the present with quick efficient sentences. She’d nodded once, at my explanation of Loste’s reasoning for releasing Foster with that quick ‘oath’ of hers. The rest of the time, she was impassive.

After a final moment of silence following my description of Siel and Quescol’s healing of my arm, she finally spoke. “Well now. Guardswoman Loste, it seems myself and my heir owe you a great deal.”

“I was only doing my duty, ma’am– uh, Your Majesty.”

“Your duty was to pull Evariste from the fight and get her to a healer without further damage. You did not have a duty to pull her from a mess of her own making and ensure no one else was hurt. You not only went above and beyond, you did it adroitly. I could not have done better myself.”

Emily flushed a bright red, all the way to the tips of her ears. “Th–thank you. Your Majesty. My Queen.”

“I will remember your service, Emily Loste.” Mother tapped her lips as if in contemplation. “As for you, my darling daughter. It seems you have rather too much time on your hands. And isn’t it strange how just a few hours ago I was commending you for your acumen. The world changes so fast, doesn’t it?”

“Yes Mother,” I mumbled.

“This incident,” she said with as much contempt on the word as she could muster, “Has made it clear to me that I am not sufficiently occupying your time. If you have time to get up to such mischief, you have time to learn more about the country you will soon be ruling. I think the delegations arriving next week will provide sufficient occupation, but in the meantime… Let me see.” She riffled through the papers on her desk, before pulling out one and sliding it across.

“There is something of a dispute ongoing between the Mayoralty of Idena and our Magistracy of Agriculture regarding the grain harvested in the region. You will resolve it.”

I groaned internally, but for the first time all evening, the serpent of shame uncoiled just a little. I was being punished. That meant I would eventually be forgiven. I could make up for it. Even if it meant dealing with some piddly little town freaking out over grain levies, the kind of bureaucratic fiddling I usually hated.

“Now. With that dealt with, you are both excused,” said the queen, looking back down at her papers with a practiced air that indicated a clear dismissal even without the words she’d spoken.

Loste immediately saluted and turned to leave, but I was frozen into place. I–I wasn’t done. I still needed… something.

“Mother. Your Majesty. May I speak to you alone briefly?”

She looked back up from her work. “If you must. Guardswoman, leave us. Again, my compliments on your work tonight.”

The woman looked at me with undisguised curiosity, but saluted again and left. As soon as she shut the door behind me, I let out the sobs that had been steadily building inside me since we’d entered the room.

“Mama… Mama I fucked up.”

In an instant, she was out from behind the desk and holding me in her arms. “Ris, my darling. Why did you do it?”

I sobbed against her shoulder, unable to keep anything back any longer. “I don’t know Mama. I don’t know why I did it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

She started to cry too, my own shoulder beginning to dampen with the weight of her tears. She was much more dignified about it than I, who had already begun coating the sleeves of her nightgown in tears and snot alike. We slid slowly to the floor and collapsed together in the thick burgundy rug, as my mother held me tightly in her arms. And there we lay, both crying until we could cry no longer.