Chapter Ten

Muirgen supervised the packing of her luggage, making sure she had enough sensible clothes for travelling, and not just fine dresses. One would suffice. As her maids packed her belongings into a single bag, she stared at both of them. Ivel and Arie had been with her since she was crowned queen. Neither deserved to be dragged to an uncertain fate in the North. She watched their faces and quiet, slow movements. They expected at any moment to be told who would be accompanying her.

She turned to the Arie, “Pack my woolen jacket and dagger as well,” she instructed before turning on her heel to leave.  She would take neither with her; she couldn't do that to them.

The walk to the soldiers’ quarters was a quick one and she savored the brief glow of the sun warming her face. The chill of winter had finally turned to reluctant spring. It would make the journey to the North less cold, but the mud and rain would certainly make traveling difficult in their own way. She waited impatiently outside the quarters while a guard ran back inside.

Finally, Evan Macklin stepped out into the sunshine, bowing quickly before straightening again. She held out her arm, “Will you walk with me?” He wove his arm through hers and she guided him along the path that led toward the forest. When they were far enough away from the quarters, she said, “I’ll be leaving for the North soon.” He frowned at her, clearly displeased with the idea, though he held his tongue. “I’m allowed to bring the Dragon and one maid with me.” She paused, unsure how to go on. “I have no wish to bring any of my maids into such a perilous situation.” She blushed, then surged forward, “But I wonder if you would consider taking her place?”

Evan tilted his head, his brow furrowing. “Will they allow that?”

She chewed on her lip. “You would have to go as…a maid.”

He raised an eyebrow, “As a maid?” He threw his head back, his shoulders shaking with mirth. “Your majesty,” he said when he could found the breath to speak, “I would make a horrid maid.”

She squinted at him thoughtfully, nodding in agreement. His shoulders were broad, his jaw square though he kept it free of stubble.  But with enough tweaking and some well-placed padding he would be fine. Not a great beauty, surely, but good enough. “With a few tweaks to your wardrobe and a few touches of makeup…perhaps a better hairstyle and some managing of your eyebrows, you could pass as a maid.”

He pursed his lips, suddenly too aware that she was completely serious. “My Queen, forgive me for saying, but I cannot help you with...the things maids do. It wouldn't be decent.”

She breathed hard through her nose, forcing all irritation from her body, “I can handle such things myself.” She stopped walking, turning to face him, “They will not sign any treaty. There is something they want from me, but it is not marriage.” Confusion clouded his face, but she lifted a hand before he could ask, “I cannot say more. Please, do not ask questions." She sighed, "I do not think it is very likely that they will allow me to leave, but perhaps, if you come we may be able to fight out way out.”

He studied her, his green eyes trained on her face as if he could read the truth there. “If you know this, why go?”

She smiled, though it did not reach her eyes. “It is something I must do, whether or not it turns out well.”

Finally he nodded, “I’ll do ask you request, my Queen. Only…” he paused, his neck below his beard growing red, “I'd prefer it if no one knew.”

She nodded, “I’ll have the Dra…Uthyr explain your absence. Please meet me at my quarters in less than an hour. We will leave soon after.”

“Anything specific I should bring with me besides my sword?” he asked, palming the hilt of the weapon.

She shrugged. “I will have a wardrobe ready for you. But it would be best if you also brought a sturdy pair of boots and a set of clothes.”

He bowed slightly at the waist. “I will be ready, your Majesty.”

“Please, Muirgen. Call me Muirgen,” she said as he straightened. She steered him back toward the soldiers’ quarters, “Thank you for agreeing to do this. I know that it must be difficult for you to consider going there after what they have done to you.”

His eyes shaded as he thought of the woman he loved and tilted his head in acknowledgement. “Yes, but,” he grinned at her devilishly, “you’ve told me how well you think our negotiations will go. I have the greatest hope that I will kill at least a few before we leave their lands.”

She squeezed his arm. She had not done enough to inspire such loyalty, but she was grateful of it. “We’ll need to work on your voice,” she said finally.

He cleared his throat, and in a high, scratchy voice said, “My dear Queen, whatever do you mean? My voice is pristine!” He fluttered his eyelashes for effect.

Muirgen hid a smile behind a hand before suggesting, “Maybe a little less high?”

He nodded, lowering his voice a few notes before trying out, “Is this better?”

She nodded, “That will do just fine.”

His voice returned to normal, “I highly doubt anyone will believe I am a woman, my…Muirgen.”

She shrugged, “It would be incredibly rude to mention that my new maid looks like a man. As long as you are by my side, you’ll be fine. Don’t blame me if a few of the council flirt with you.”  She winked at him for good measure.  

When they reached the soldiers’ quarters he slipped his arm out of hers, bowing before saying, “I will be there in less than an hour.” Muirgen watched him slip inside before heading back to the castle doors, anxious to move forward with her plan.

When she reached her rooms, Ivel and Arie had finished packing. Sheets had been flung over her things, protecting them from dust while she was away. The two girls were tugging a final sheet over her bed clothes and fastening them at the corners.

She addressed them as they straightened from their task. “I have hired a maid who will see to all my needs while I am in the North.” They bowed, the relief on their faces all too obvious.  

"Thank you, your Majesty," Ivel said, bowing so low that her hair fell into her eyes.

"We will pray for a safe journey," Arie added, snapping the last pin on the sheet into place.

"Thank you," Muirgen said. As they filed toward the door, Muirgen called, “Send in Dain, please.”  Arie nodded before shutting the door. Muirgen sat on her bed, mussing the freshly starched sheet the two had just placed. Two short knocks at her door told her the Royal Event Planner had arrived, and she called for the guards to let him in.

The man stood just inside the door, tugging nervously at his mustache. “Your Majesty, how may I be of service?”

She gestured for him to sit down, “I have a rather shocking task for you, and it must remain a secret.”  She cast a hard look at the man, “I will of course compensate you generously.”

He bobbed his head, “I am yours to command, your majesty.”

“I have a new maid who will be accompanying me on my journey to the North. She will need a new wardrobe.”

Dain nodded, pulling out a wad of parchment from his trowsers and beginning to scribble down notes, “Her measurements?”

“Large. Like Uthyr.”

Dain raised his eyebrow, setting his parchment aside, “Like Uthyr.” His eyes lit up with understanding and he sighed. “Are these clothes for the Dragon?” He cleared his throat, "Excuse me, past Dragon?"

She grimaced, “Uthyr will be staying here. The clothes are for another warrior.”

He shook his head, “My ability to find the right clothing aside, you will need an artist.”

She nodded, “Which is why I’ll need you to help me. He’ll need a perfumed bath, his eyebrows plucked, and hair fashioned. And he probably won’t enjoy it, so it’s best to bribe him with food and drink during his transformation.”

Dain sighed again, “Your Majesty, you do keep me on my toes.”

She grinned, choosing to take the complaint as a compliment. “He will be here in less than an hour, can you arrange to have everything ready?” He nodded, before standing wearily and leaving.

After the door closed Muirgen stared at it for some time. Doubt gnawed at her. Was she making the right decision? Was she sending Artair and Evan to their deaths? Was she dooming her people? She went to the door, the anxiety eating her stomach. She flung the door open, heading into the belly of the castle. The air turned cool and slick as she entered the catacombs where the royal family and Dragons were all buried.

Thankfully the space was unoccupied, and she placed a hand upon the cool gray stone of her mother's coffin. It had been carved in her image. Muirgen studied her face, the wide eyes and sharp nose that accented her full mouth. She closed her eyes. “I wish you were here,” she whispered before opening her eyes to stare at the stone again.

Her mother had been a force of nature. Her people loved her. She helped the poor, rebuilt destroyed villages, and economized the castle while still enabling balls and celebrations. The council members certainly all desired her, but each of them also respected her. And feared her. She had had a fearsome temper, and would delve to the bottom of a situation and come out with a solution before allowing anyone to leave the council room. But her mother had always known what to do, how to solve any problem. It was easy to inspire strength when your own mind was always confidently made up. More and more Muirgen felt like she had no idea what she was supposed to do. But at least she was doing something. After doing nothing and trying to figure out what to do for so many years, at least she was moving forward.

She slowly walked back to her rooms, and found that both Dain and Evan were waiting outside the door, awkwardly avoiding eye contact with each other. She ushered them both into her room, and Dain immediately started to work. The tub was already filled and several piles of clothes laid out; Dain’s workers had been hard at work.  Dain shooed her out of the bathroom and she returned to her bedroom, toeing the secret niche and pulling out the stash of books. She shoved the book with the tree in the North to the bottom of her bag before securing the ties.  

A brisk knock announced Uthyr and Artair. Both stepped into the room, Artair with a bag slung over one shoulder.  “Artiar tells me you will be leaving tonight?” Uthyr asked with some irritation. It was odd not to feel it spike through their connection.

“I don’t want to delay any more.”

He scratched a hand through his close-cropped beard. “I don’t think it’s a good idea Muirgen. It’s too dangerous.”

As he had said before, but she had to go. “I know.” She took his hand in hers, “While I’m gone you will have my power. You are the only one I trust to maintain the kingdom.”

Uthyr grimaced, “The dying, past-Dragon in charge. The council will love that.”

She frowned, “They won’t have a choice. Besides they’ll be so happy that I’m going they won’t care.”

He nodded, his eyes intent on her for a few moments before saying, “The council is waiting on you both.”

She nodded, turning from Uthyr to Artair with difficulty, “Shall we?”

Uthyr took the bag from Artair's shoulder. “I’ll have everything arranged for your departure.”

Muirgen touched his arm, but couldn’t bear to look at his face. “Thank you, Uthyr.” Then she and Artair headed to the meeting room, the guards holding open the doors for them as they entered.

Many of the council’s faces were sour. They probably still held a grudge that Artiar Ector, a bastard from a little-known house, had been chosen to be Dragon rather than their sons. But they all stood as she entered.

“Gentlemen,” she addressed them, “Thank you for meeting, we have several things to discuss.” She sat and Artair followed suit, the rest of the lords finding their seats again as well. “As you know, this is Artair Ector, the new Dragon.” Lord Beven was tugging angrily on his beard, but he stayed silent.  “Today Uthyr took him on a tour of the castle, teaching him the ropes and introducing him to his men. Usually the process of handing the mantle from one Dragon to the other takes a few weeks, but we have had to move up our timeline to accommodate our departure.”

The murmur of voices rose as they whispered back and forth, but she raised her hand for quiet. “Artiar and I will be traveling to the North where I will meet with the king and assess any benefits that might arise from a union between us.” Lord Beven looked very pleased, as did Lord Anders.  Her stomach twisted in irritation. When she got back she would have to figure out some way to put them in their place. They had grown too powerful.

“Until I return Uthyr will be acting on my behalf. Every word and action shall be as though I ordered it. Thank you.” She stood up, the chair protesting violently against the floor. Then she turned, striding out, Artair two steps behind. As they headed out of the castle Artair moved closer to her, whispering, “Do you think they will listen to him?”

She grimaced, "They don't listen to me, so no I do not have much hope of them doing anything they do not want to do.” She glanced at him, his jaw working. He was trying to think of a way out, a way they wouldn’t have to do this. But she and Uthyr had spent many restless nights trying to find a way out. There was none. "I can only hope that Uthyr will be able to keep them in check."

Uthyr had a carriage waiting out front, the shadowed, hulking figure of Evan already inside. Their luggage had been lifted on top, and a driver seated in wait. Artair helped himself into the carriage, quiet conversation ensuing as he figured out who the “maid” was.

Uthyr held the door for her. “I don’t like it Muirgen,” he said one last time.

She screwed up her face, “I know. No one really likes the idea except for the council.”

Uthyr's eyes shaded. “You’ve just named a bastard with little influence as Dragon and now are leaving with him to the North. As happy as they are to have you out of their way, I am no longer the Dragon and they will not abide my authority for long.”

She knew he was right, but she didn't have a choice. Not any more. And if they were to listen to someone's authority, he was the most likely candidate. “I will make the journey as quick as possible. Fourteen days there, fourteen days back.”

He shook his head, “Don’t meet the Northmen. Find the tree.”

“I have to at meet with them, Uthyr. What will the council say if I don’t?”

Uthyr kissed her hand before folding her into a hug. “Be careful. Be safe.”

She nodded, “I will.”

Then he helped her into the carriage before closing the door and turning his fierce gaze on Artair, “Protect her. Make sure she is back to me in a month’s time.” Artair placed a hand to his breast, upon the filigree of the Dragon, nodding solemnly. Then Uthyr nodded to the driver before stepping back, the carriage rolling slowly away from the castle.