The Princess's Feathers

“Commander. Her Majesty will see you now.”

As the Ringtail guard pulls the gilded door open, I scrutinize her expression closely. Finch assured me that the Palace Guard respects me, so I suppose it truly is sympathy painted across her face. On the other paw, to face the Queen of Ellyntide after failing to protect her daughter’s life, I suppose even my enemies would show pity.

I step into the dimly lit room, and the door closes with a feather touch behind me. Inside, the curtains are nearly shut, illuminating small sections of the Queen’s reading room in disparate beams of morning light. The air is thick with the familiar smells of chamomile — I have recently learned it to be the flower Lemurs use when mourning the dead. Through the darkness, I can hear the fabric of Her Majesty’s clothes rustling, though I cannot locate her as my eyes haven’t yet adjusted. The only other noise was the sound of my heart racing against my chest.

Suffice it to say I’ve been dreading this moment. To atone for the greatest failure in my family’s storied history serving the Lordanous is a task I alone must face... but face it, I will. With no more time to prepare myself, I brace for the worst and draw a careful breath. “Your Majesty.”

“Duncan,” a meek voice sounds through the dark as I begin to make out the Queen sitting on a floral print couch in one of her morning wrappers. Chamomile endows the vases surrounding her, and various books are strewn about the area. Her face comes into focus, solid as stone, filled with deep wrinkles and an unkempt ruff. “Please, sit with me.”

I approach the couch opposite her and reposition a book so I can sit down. As gently as my legs allow, I sit and sink into the cushion. They’re cold, just like the rest of the room. “Your Majesty. I am s—“

“Colonel Durham was the finest knight I’ve ever known,” she speaks over me in a commanding voice, the one she typically reserves for speeches. “He served my daughter with honor and distinction, and the Kingdom is worse off in his absence.” I nearly fall backward in surprise, failing to anticipate the Queen bringing up Calypso’s passing first. “Please, tell me you are surviving his passing.”

I reposition myself so I’m sitting straight up again. After a moment of contemplation on how to respond to this unexpected start, I locate my voice. “Mother and I are in communication with the Durhams. Funeral arrangements are being planned as we speak.”

“Good,” she says quickly and relaxes her tail around her legs. “Ariana will know what’s best… but you, Duncan. I asked about you.’

“Well…” I trail off, still off-put by the way this conversation has begun. Why is she so concerned about my well-being? “Me and Calypso, we talked about this. What would happen if one of us was lost in the line of duty. He loved being a knight, and he willingly accepted the risks. The past few days have been challenging, but… he would have wanted me to continue my work with the crown. So, if you would have me, then I will.”

I wouldn’t say I’m fit for work just yet. The nightmares have been unsettling, to say the least. But my visit to Finch’s flat pulled me back from the precipice. With some more time, I want to continue my work and make Calypso proud.

“I’m pleased to hear,” she says. “I don’t need to tell you how much the situation with Melicola has deteriorated. I’ll be relying on your expertise in the coming days, Duncan.”

My muscles tense. The international situation has indeed become grave, but praise from Her Majesty was the last thing I expected to hear after failing to bring her daughter home safely. I should be on the receiving end of a verbal evisceration right now.

Something is dreadfully wrong with the Queen.

“Your Majesty,” I say, pulling down my waistcoat. If she won’t directly address the matter, then I must. “I appreciate your confidence in me, but… It is misplaced. I promised to deliver your daughter safely from the weald and failed. I am responsible for the gravest failure in my family’s history serving the crown. For this, I am boundlessly repentant and willingly accept any judgment that results from my failure.”

Her Majesty stares at me in silence with a face like stone. Slowly, without saying a word, she reaches to take one of the large books from the coffee table. I watch through the dim light as she flips it open and realize it’s a photo album. What is she doing?

“You know, Commander,” she turns a page and smiles at one of the photos. “Your mother believed she was doing the right thing, ignoring my wishes and sneaking photographers into the palace. At the time, I cursed her for it. But now that Asha’s gone…” She closes the album and folds her hands neatly on top of it. The bags under her eyes look sullen. “Duncan, do you know why I chose only to have two children?”

I shake my head slowly. Her decision has become a great source of contention on talk radio over the past few days. I recall that even the late Princess had expressed her frustration about the pressure it put her under.

“It’s because the Goddess promised me Asha would be a great Monarch, one of the finest Ellyntide has ever known,” her voice becomes frail, as if it had returned to its natural state. “I wanted her to have a sibling so she wouldn’t be lonely, but I never thought…” She slides her gaze away from mine and onto a framed illustration of the late Queen Beatrix propped on a nearby side table. History has repeated itself in an unbearably cruel way.

“Etain has forsaken me,” she whispers, tightening her grip on the album. “My lifestyle of excess — the clothes I own, the jewelry, the drinking… she warned me it would lead to my downfall. But I refused to listen. I thought I was in control of myself. And as penance, she sent a beast from the Northern Continent to take my daughter away from me. Don’t you see, Duncan? There’s nothing you could have done to save Asha’s life. This was judgment from on high. I’m such a fool…”

I exhale slightly. I’d heard murmurs that the Queen didn’t hold me responsible, but I refused to believe I’d be forgiven for such an indefensible failure. As heart-wrenching as it is to see the Queen at the height of her misery, I can’t help but feel grateful she spared me of blame.

“You did what you thought was right.” It seems inane the Goddess would punish her for the indulgences that other Monarchs have freely enjoyed.

Her Majesty buries her eyes and frowns. “I thought I could keep it under control, that she was simply reminding me of the illness. But the Goddess seems less forgiving than any of us thought.”

Unbeknown to even the late Princess, Her Majesty has been battling the effects of cirrhosis for some time now. It boggles the mind that the Goddess would punish her instead of allowing the illness to take its course, or that she could interfere on Jade with such hostile intent. But the events of the past week give little reason to suspect otherwise.

“Duncan,” the Queen’s voice turns inquisitive. “Have you had any strange dreams as of late?”

Strange dreams? “Nothing but nightmares, I’m afraid.”

She flashes disappointment but quickly corrects herself. “Last week, I had one that felt all but real. I was soaring through the sky, chasing a glowing red bird as it weaved dappled light across the clouds. Eventually, I came upon the bow of the Beatrix, and I found myself aboard the pilot’s deck. I gazed out the windows to search for the strange bird, but instead, I found the Lithan approaching astern, blind rage festering in its eyes. I turned to order the guns fired, and the Lithan exploded in a brilliant cloud of feathers…”

“You sent the Beatrix to the Northern Continent based on a premonition?” Try as I might, I fail to mask the astonishment in my voice. Her Majesty is known to be superstitious to a fault, but to risk so much on the whims of a mere dream is downright negligent!

“I thought it was foolproof, that there was no way a Lithan could break through the armor of the Beatrix. I thought Etain was testing me, as she’s tested other Monarchs. And I thought if I took that cursed monster’s life, my daughter would be returned to me. Duncan, If you had experienced such a lucid dream, one that seemed to foretell the future, wouldn’t you have done the same for Calypso? Wouldn’t you take the risk to bring back a loved one, no matter how unlikely it seemed it would work?”

I ponder her question for a moment before quickly ceasing the effort. I was in such a miserable state before I visited Finch’s flat. If I’d experienced a lucid dream that seemed to present a way to bring back Calypso, then… I would have believed it, too. Unwilling to admit I’d fall to such illogical whims, I puff a sigh and look away.

“Life goes on, Duncan. You learn how to move past the grief; to smile, to laugh, and to love again. But the wound never fully heals. There’s nothing shameful about wanting to do everything to prevent that misery.”

Feeling no urge to continue the line of conversation, we sit in silence for a time. Eventually, Her Majesty places the photo album on the table and begins idly rearranging the Chamomile. “All our attempts to commune with the Goddess have failed,” she says, with a tinge of bitterness rolling off her tongues. This is a revelation to me, though not a surprising one. Doubtlessly, she’s attempted communion in secret many times over the past week. “If Etain has truly forsaken me, then the only thing left is to make my mother and daughter proud.”

Make them proud…?

Hesitantly I ask, “What will you do now?”

“Weatherlight believes she can sic her dogs from Melicola against my Kingdom. She’s WRONG!!” I flinch as a vase is launched from the table, Her Majesty’s anger exploding. She storms to her feet and stamps around the broken porcelain, her tail lashing behind her. Approaching a window, she growls and stops to tear the blinds open. Daylight floods the room, revealing a maleficent side to the Queen I’ve never witnessed before. “You’ve maintained a relationship with the Morthan parliament, correct?”

I writhe in fear as her plan materializes in my head. “I-I have kept on professional terms with them, yes.”

“Good,” she flips around to seek another window. “I want you to tell them we’re not interested in diplomacy.”

What?!

“But, Ma’a—“

“The Goddess has pestered me for peace all my reign!” she shrieks, nearly separating another set of curtains from the wall. “If Etain’s turned her back on me, then she’ll have war!”

My stomach drops. How can I be hearing these words spoken? Her Majesty has been steadfast and conservative in her approach to foreign policy her entire reign. Even after her mother’s assassination, she made a concerted effort to attempt diplomacy before a war with Sarlain was inevitable. This proclamation heralds an unsettling new direction in her reign.

It all began two days ago. Mortha, the nation of Rabbits, announced their intention to send a delegation to Varecia and help calm tensions over the disputed island drifting into Ellyntide airspace. Weatherlight, President of the Confederation of Nortane and Melicola, had sent airships to moor on the disputed territory as retaliation for the Beatrix violating their airspace. They did so, announcing they would defend their sovereign territory with force. Most animals, myself included, believed Her Majesty would back down given her traditionally conservative slant and the anguish she’s faced these past few days.

But I was wrong, frighteningly wrong. In the absence of the Princess and the Goddess, Kelani has taken leave of her senses. Surely she must understand that to oppose the Confederation, a nation much bigger than Ellyntide, would be suicide. And yet, to order me to send away our only lifeline at preventing a national catastrophe…

I swallow hard. “Your Majesty. To oppose the Confederacy—“

“I don’t care,” she growls, baring teeth. “Crow Wing was operating in the middle of Ellyntide with advanced communication equipment. They were performing intelligence gathering, noting the flight patterns of military vessels traversing between Varecia and Rhl. Don’t you see? They’re preparing for an invasion!”

“But—“

“Contact Mortha and tell them we’re not interested! That’s an ORDER, Commander!”

The ferocity of her voice stabs like a rapier, pushing me back into my seat. It’s taken a while to get here, but I’m finally on the receiving end of the verbal assault I expected.

The identity of the animals found in the weald has yet to be definitively proven. Most believe they were members of Crow Wing, Nortane’s state intelligence organization. But positive identification has remained elusive, complicated by the dismembered state the Lithan left them in. A Marten, a Sable, and an Owl… with company like that, it’s no wonder most animals assume they’re Crow Wing. But the communication equipment they found isn’t powerful enough to reach off-continent, let alone the Confederation. The riddle of the weald doesn’t add up, yet Kelani is throwing caution to the wind and assuming dangerous conclusions. She’s committed to using their bodies as a pretext for war.

But what can I do? I’m just following orders, right? I dip my head to Kelani and tell her, “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

For starters, I could lie. So, I did.

I’m not going to contact Mortha. A war against the Confederation is suicide. If Kelani won’t listen to me, then there’s but one animal alive who stands a chance at getting through to her and preventing this catastrophe. I must seek her out at once.

The Queen examines me for a moment. She tightens her wrapper, turns away and murmurs, “Good,” before skulking across the room, her tail swaying behind her thoughtfully. “My mother and daughter are watching from the temple,” she announces, referencing the holy realm Lemurs ascend to in the afterlife. “I will show them how strong our Kingdom is. With or without the Goddess.”

Ice forms in my stomach. To hear a Monarch speak so openly about abandoning the Goddess is one of the most chilling things I’ve ever heard.

“I should be on my way,” I say, rising to my feet. So much for my protracted return to service. “I will need some time to craft a response to the Morthans.” Truthfully, there’s little time to spare. To enlist the one person who can convince Kelani will be… difficult. I watch the Queen for a response, but she’s staring out a window with a stoic expression. Feeling I have nothing more to add, I turn to leave.

“I would enshrine Calypso as a hero if I could.”

I whip around to see Kelani continuing her silent vigil. Why would she mention that now, of all times…?

…

I turn and pass through the door to the hallway, closing it shut as gently as possible.