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Idalia
Queen Idalia leaned back as she laughed, holding herself only by the hand that wrapped around the gentleman’s forearm. She didn’t laugh because what he said was particularly funny, but because it made her appear more charming. Mother had always told her to laugh at a man’s jokes, even if they were terrible. Following her mother’s advice had gotten her farther than anything else. It had gotten her a crown.
She’d always wondered why her mother hadn’t taken her own advice but instead married a poor man, an unfaithful man. Idalia had known for as long as she could remember that her father’s late nights were visits with other women. Her mother knew too. They all chose to ignore his behavior and Idalia swore to herself she’d find a man so devoted to her that no other woman would matter.
The man who’d walked her to the stables, his name was Markus or something like that, smiled proudly at her as two dimples appeared in his cheeks. His attire for today’s ride was modest but still made with fine fabrics that suggested he came from wealth. It was not a bad place to be, Idalia thought, upon the arm of this man.
Across the yard, Burke was already atop his horse. A thick vest in a warm shade of orange made him easy to spot amongst the leafless trees and evergreens. He looked nothing short of the warrior she knew him as, proud chin and perfectly saddled on the stallion he’d rode several times before.
Burke liked this one coffee-colored horse the stable hands called by the name Iron Scar due to the long slashing mark that cut across the animal’s hind side. No one knew how the scar came to be, only that when they’d seized the castle from the Fae, the marking was already there. Burke was convinced the horse remembered him. Idalia thought the man only found commonality with the beast.
The queen tried not to let her eye linger on her longtime friend and part-time lover. She was to make the men feel as if they had a fair shot at her hand, after all. There was no doubt in her mind that she’d make Burke her king. He’d been devoted to her long before she even found herself fancying him.
She no longer needed a man to bring her or her family up in status. She’d done itallon her own. Burke was best qualified for king though; he’d fought next to her and her sisters without so much as an ounce of fear. When she’d asked for him to help sway her sister Ambrose into staying—the poor girl was like a love sick puppy when it came to her former fiancé—he’d agreed without complaint.
He wouldn’t have to pretend much longer. Not once Ambrose had time to acclimate to her new body.
“You’ve chosen such a wonderful day for riding,” Markus said coming to a stop at the horse dressed for the queen’s mount.
“The gods favor shines down on us.” Idalia made sure to brush her fingers along his clean-shaven cheek. Men loved little touches like that. It made them think they stood a chance.
Lifting her face to the sky, Idalia breathed in the autumn wind and the smell of pine and dampened earth. The murky weather that had haunted them for several days had finally dispersed leaving the sky cloudless. With the blaze of the uncovered sun, the day was warmer than normal for this season, allowing for only the thinnest of sleeves and no need for a cloak that would pull at her neck.
“Idris is smiling down on all of us.” Markus agreed. “Shall I help you to your seat?”
Idalia tried to look shy and demure as she gave a minimal nod. Another lesson learned from her mother: if a man offers to help you with something whether you know how to do it or not, allow him. It makes him think he is useful.
Did the queen know how to get into a saddle by herself? Yes. And very well actually. She’d ridden often when she’d lead the humans in rebellion against the Fae. She was no stranger to the back of a horse.
Today she’d traded her gowns for simple riding pants and a loose blouse stained the color of wine. The shirt matched her ruby necklace that sat between her collar bones. Her boots lifted up off the ground as Markus’s palms held her firmly at her hips and lifted her to her seat. Though she didn’t need to, she remained side-saddle.
Another illusion.
Not a single soul was unaware of what she was capable of. She was not only respected but also feared. Sitting as a lady would help to relax the men around her because it made her look like less of a threat. Gods forbid a woman should sit on a horse correctly.
Out of habit, Idalia stretched an arm behind her and let her fingers brush the staff that was secured at her back. She didn’t need the touch to know that it was there but it was comforting nonetheless. The flames at her back were constantly casting light and creating shadows before her that flickered and moved as if the wind was able to blow right through the glass.
Markus handed her the reins before lifting himself up into his own mount next to her. He grunted as he situated himself. Markus was older than most of the men who’d come to try and marry into the crown. His hair was graying, pulled back into a long braid that hung down his back. His skin was well managed for his age—the only sign of wrinkles appeared when he smiled, which he did often.
“Thank you for your assistance,” Idalia said, digging her heels gently into the horse’s side.
Conversations paused as the men who were ready to ride took notice of their queen’s movement. Anyone not yet in saddle hurried to get on top of their horses to keep up with the group that was about to set out.
“It is my greatest honor, Queen Idalia.” Markus took the bow that appeared in the hand of a waiting warlock.
Magic flared across the field in the palms of several warlocks who’d been asked out today. Their long purple scarves caught in the breeze and showed them for what they truly were. Less than servants, more than dirt. They were useful though as they handed bow and arrows over quickly and easily to the men who’d wished to hunt on the trip.
Idalia swayed as the horse began a trot heading to the path that led off the property into the woods. She refused to allow the Fae to ruin her plans for the country. Men would be crowned king, heirs would be born, and their lineage secured for future generations. She wasn’t an idiot though; precautions were being taken. The gates had been opened and guards were positioned along the narrow trail to watch for any signs of Fae or attack. Only the most loyal of the warlocks had been sent out into the woods as well.
Just as Idalia had imagined, as Markus and his horse fell away from her side, a new rider quickly replaced him. Men were falling in line behind her, their discussions picking right back up where they left off. It was a steady hum of conversation that flowed up to her ears and the harsh sensation of several pairs of eyes on her back. Her staff was there as a reminder and for her own safety.
“Queen Idalia,” the man at her side bowed as well as he could in his seat.
A wide smile was plastered across her face as she turned to look him over. His bright blue gaze and slick black hair made him easily recognizable. He did not return her smile.
“Ephram?” Idalia blinked. “I’m so glad to see you again.”
“And I, you.”
