Chapter 1

Introduction to Queen Jaia and the monster Zephyr.

Part One: The Lovers

The throne at the end of the great hall was full of sharp edges, freezing cold, and soaked with blood.

Jaia could ignore it, most days. Discomfort was an old friend, pressed into her bones and squeezed tight around her skin, and had been for many years. The crown she wore when receiving guests to the palace weighed heavily down on her neck, solid gold and precious stones mined with the blood of those who lived and died long before her. She spent long hours every day laced into clothes that rubbed and dug into her skin, leather and steel barely cushioned by her cottons and velvets. She dealt with all of this, weighing her down until she felt like she might sink down through the cold stone floors of her castle some days, with a smile and a gentle tone, ever the rock for her people. She had to be everything her mother wasn't, no matter her personal discomfort. It was all she had, all she lived for.

And then there was the blood. She could feel it, soaking her skirts, slippery against her fingertips. Sometimes it dripped down her neck and trickled down her back, even through the corset and layers of fabric between her skin and the throne. When the blood was at it's worst, she could smell it in the air, sharp and coppery and catching in her throat as she clutched the arms of the throne, willing the sensation to leave her in peace.

The blood, of course, wasn't really there. But she felt it all the same, every time she sat in her throne. It haunted her, reminding her of where she came from. What had put her there. What was at stake, every day of her life, of her rule.

"Your Majesty," her advisor murmured, bowing low as he approached the throne. Jaia waved her hand, gesturing for him to relax and tell her what he wanted. She was getting a headache from the smell of blood and the weight of her crown. Thank goodness her visiting hours were over. It was exhausting to meet her subjects, one after another, all needing her help, her generosity, her advice to get them through their daily lives. Her mother had never had to bother herself with the goings on of the simple folk. But then her mother had represented everything that was wrong with North Vilvia, everything that Jaia was trying to change. And everyone knew what had happened to her. "The Prince of Maladoria had written a formal acceptance to your invitation to join you at the Treaty Ball."

"Very good. Please write back and advise him that arrangements will be made for him and his entourage at the Castle on the Wall." Jaia had a hard time masking her irritation at the news. Three years this Prince Fredrich had been trying to court her from afar. Three years she had gently held him at arms length, but vaguely entertained his attentions occasionally, at her advisor's wishes. She had a feeling that he would soon ask a very difficult question of her.

"If I may speak freely, Your Majesty," Tarley started, continuing on before she could grant him permission, knowing she would grant it anyway, "I believe you should make your interest in the Prince more prominent at the upcoming ball. While there are options, he is the best one. You must make a decision soon."

"Must I?" Jaia reached up to remove the crown from her head, resting it in her lap and pressing a hand to the back of her neck, tilting her head and attempting to relieve the pressure growing there. She had had versions of this conversation for the last three years. She knew her council was growing impatient with her to move forward with growing the royal family, but the thought seemed like a horrifying task.

Tarley gave her a look that might have been irritation, if he wasn't so afraid of the consequences of being openly irritated at the Queen. "Your Majesty... we must discuss the matter of succession..."

"To see Her Majesty Queen Jaia of North Vilvia, on a matter of much urgency, General Aimery of the Royal Guard," announced one of her guards in the doorway, interrupting the start of what would be a most boring conversation that Jaia was eager to avoid. She barely had time to straighten up and replace her crown before the doors were pushed open by the General, tight-laced and straight-edges as always, although today his eyes gleamed with repressed glee. Jaia dreaded the source of that glee. Aimery was known as a ruthless, unkind man, but he was good at his job and she had no legitimate reasons to replace him.

"Your Majesty." He kneeled before the throne, before standing again with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Yes, Aimery? What is this urgent matter?"

"A monster was caught climbing over the castle walls."

This made her pay attention. Jaia frowned, feeling an uneasy flutter of wings in her chest. "A monster? Here? How did it make it as far as the castle?"

"Unknown, Majesty. We are keeping it in the dungeons, awaiting your command."

"My command?"

Aimery smiled, but it looked more like baring his teeth, thrilled at the idea of inflicting pain. She had been told that he was exceptionally good with a whip. "Your punishment."

"Of course." She pretended to consider the matter deeply, but her mind was already made up. "For the moment, it shall remain in the dungeon. Let it grow anxious waiting. I believe you like them scared, do you not, General?"

He nodded, and kneeled again. She dismissed him, gazing unseeingly at the doors of the hall as they shut behind him. Blood pooled around her feet, and she took in a deep breath, willing it away.

"Your Majesty?" Tarley prompted her, likely hoping to return to the tedious subject of the succession. The damned succession, always that, as if she didn't already have enough to think about, with the fate of her country resting on her shoulders.

"Enough, Tarley." She removed the crown again, and stood up, waiting for the crown-keeper to retrieve the heavy piece of glorified jewellery from her hands. "No more about the Prince today. I am visiting the dungeons."

"I cannot advise that, Your-"

"Then don't. Thank you for your objection. I will be sure to consider it closely."

Tarley gritted his teeth and gave a short bow, before turning away. Jaia didn't care to call him back for a real bow, like her mother might have.

The stairs to the dungeon were poorly lit, damp, grimy. She would have to talk to the housekeepers about their duties when she next saw them. Holding up her skirts, she crept through the dark, passing guards who gathered around a table and quickly bowed when they noticed her approach. She ignored them, venturing further into the cold, shadowy dungeons, passing empty cells that once held many prisoners. Only the cell at the end was occupied. Jaia stopped a short distance away, peering into the dark, catching only a glimpse of grey fur and white teeth in the flickering candlelight.

For moment, the air itself seemed to be holding it's breath. Jaia took a step, her skirts brushing the dusty ground. The creature in the cell turned, taking a deep breath, sniffing the air. Large eyes gleamed in the dark of the cell, fixing on Jaia as it turned around, it's crouching form straightening into a tall, hulking figure. Jaia swallowed as she took in the sight of mottled dark fur, gleaming white teeth, horns that twisted and entwined like an elaborate crown on the top of it's head. She knew what the monsters of The Forest looked like, of course. Everyone did. But she had not gazed upon one like this in many years. Not since she was a child.

For a moment, monster and human stared at each other through the dark, uncomfortable silence. Then, with a voice like tumbling stones, deep and rough, it spoke. "Her majesty herself has deigned to visit me."

"You speak the common tongue?" Jaia asked before she could stop herself. Her hands twisted in her skirts, glad that it was too dark to see that she was flushed with embarrassment. The monsters were fearsome creatures, strong enough to rip a man in two if provoked, mystical and secretive, but not unintelligent. They could be taught to speak languages and had been, before they were sent out of the mines and back to the forest where they belonged, undisturbed for years. And yet, here one of them was, far from it's home.

The monster laughed humorlessly, deep enough for Jaia to feel it in her chest. "I was taught like many others. You will remember that it was required, in the years past."

Jaia did. She took a steadying breath, feeling out of her depth. "You were caught climbing over the castle walls. Why?"

"Is this the usual method of interrogation?" The monster approached the bars of the cell, tilting it's massive head to look at Jaia. It's tone seemed to be teasing and curious, but there was an undertone of danger that curdled Jaia's blood. "I seem to remember a time when questions like this were accompanied by screams of agony."

"That was the previous queen's method." She remembered it well. Her mother had made her watch some interrogations to 'strengthen her stomach'. Jaia could still taste the bile on the back of her tongue that rose as these attempts to harden her failed every time. "I prefer a quieter approach."

"I remember your quiet approach. Watching from the shadows, as always. Never stepping in, not even when innocent blood was spilled on this very floor."

The words sent a chill right through her, and Jaia stepped back, breath catching as goosebumps rose under her heavy sleeves. "Who-?"

"Don't you remember, Your Majesty?" the monster sneered, fingers wrapping around the thick bars that separated them, and suddenly Jaia was certain that the cell was as useless as a cardboard box in containing this creature. She was in danger. "You were Your Highness, then. A princess, fresh and eager, trailing behind your mother as she questioned and tortured mine for answers she already knew. I was smaller then, hungry and weak. Kept in this very cell for days without food or sunlight. My mother's only crime was stealing a piece of ore from the mines, hoping to sell it for a coin or two so she could keep me alive. And the great warrior queen Mera tortured her to death right in front of me. And in front of you. Don't you remember?"

Jaia did. It was etched in her memory like a river worn into a mountainside. That was what her mother liked to call 'a time of great prosperity and untapped wealth', when the mines were worked by monsters with no compensation and harsh masters who stood over them with whips and spears. Every crime was punishable by torture and death, in order to make examples of the perpetrators. She remembered standing above the mines with her mother and sister, watching the giant creatures work and listening to the queen discuss quotas and exports. And she remembered standing in the dungeon and watching monsters be tortured for the smallest crimes, their screams and bellows of anguish ringing in her ears long after the torture was over.

And she remembered the smaller creature in the cell, face pressed against the bars, screaming for it's mother. She remembered locking eyes with it, tears welling up in the dark as it pleaded with her, with anyone, to stop. She remembered visiting again, alone, when the body had been dragged out and the child left to cry itself to sleep on the floor of the cell, lurking in the shadows and watching until the sobbing stopped. She had crept to the door and very quietly unlatched it, before running away, the thrill of rebellion burning bright in her belly. The child had been gone the next day. She didn't know if it had escaped or been killed. Either option would have been a blessing.

"I remember," she told the monster now, taking a step closer to the bars. Those eyes gleamed dangerously down at her, the same eyes she had gazed into all those years ago, filled with horror and desperation. Now they were filled with anger. She held her ground even as the threat of danger loomed over her head, a swipe of a hand away. "I couldn't do anything then. But I was the one who let you escape. Don't you remember finding the cell door unlatched?"

This seemed to rock the monster. It stepped back, expression unsure now. "You unlatched the door?"

"I did." She reached out a hand to press over the monster's as it clutched the bars. She could feel the tension thicken in the air between them at the touch, but kept her eyes on the creature, projecting fearlessness. "I am not my mother. I regret what she did to yours. All I can do is try to make up for her actions with my own."

The monster stared, eyes narrowed, as if it didn't quite believe what it was hearing. Jaia was suddenly very aware that she was much too close, much too vulnerable. She had to be careful with her movements now, lest she be interpreted as weak. Of course, in the face of this creature who could very well bend the bars apart if it wished, she was. But she held her ground, hoping to project a kind, firm manner, worthy of respect.

"Now, I ask you again. Why are you here, so far from your home?"

And the creature that had seemed so hostile a moment ago seemed to deflate a little, becoming much less intimidating as it considered the question. "I came to seek asylum."

This was unexpected. Jaia tilted her head, surprised. "From whom?"

"Who else?" The monster shifted, exposing the underside of it's massive forearm, the softer, lighter fur marred by an ugly brand in the shape of a familiar seal. Jaia knew the answer to her question before the words left the monster's lips. "King Lysander."

Author's Note

All comments welcome.