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For Markus

Chapter 12

Corene knew exactly what Dr. Ellert had been so anxious to tell Etienne.

Ellert, a stuffy Basset Hound with a wild flop of brown mane and tiny spectacles, had been in service of the crown since before Etienne could even speak, and during that time, had been Corene's tutor. Though Corene vexed him to no end with her mischief, she and the old gentleman had become rather fond of each other, and learning of his death had hurt her as deeply as it had hurt Etienne.

Donica prudently chose Dr. Ellert from a university outside of Varimore. The old hound had come from Kingdom Krodor in the far west, a kingdom on good terms with Varimore and with a queen indebted to the crown. King Bastian's armies - led by Donica in gold ceremonial armor - had once swept in to save Krodor from an invasion of a desert kingdom. Everyone in Bastian's court knew Donica had only saved the day for the benefit of an alliance: Krodor was the trade center of the world, and having the most white fox tribes in its vicinity, it had the most expensive fox pelts on the globe - as well as the best silks, wines, and other luxuries that anyone who garnered the kingdom's favor would have direct access to. Thus, Queen Angelina Alva was indebted to Varimore and made sure the kingdom received the best of their merchandise first and foremost. Giving Varimore one of Krodor's finest minds was only the beginning of repaying this debt.

A foreigner and a scholar, Dr. Ellert arrived at the court in Wychowl with his thick accent, humble and polite, and completely ignorant of the kingdom's darkest secrets. Dr. Ellert did not know the queen had murdered the little prince's mother - Indeed, for several years, he thought Donica was Etienne's mother. It wasn't until the sudden and mysterious death of King Bastian that Dr. Ellert made the mistake of thinking twice. The old gentleman delved into the archives late one night and - to his misfortune - found letters and documents that pieced together a puzzle of murder.

Many of the letters and documents Dr. Ellert found were burned after the fact - something Donica skirted the law itself to achieve - and if anyone found out she had broken the law to cover up a murder, the queen herself could be hanged by the church for the crime. Corene was well aware of this. Being as close as she was to the queen, Corene was aware of a great many things, and it was her knowledge - and the fact that the queen believed Corene fully devoted to her - that had kept Corene alive and well the last twenty years.

But contrary to what Etienne thought, Corene was not blindly devoted to Donica. She knew of Ellert's activities because she had her own spies watching the little gentleman in an attempt to safeguard him from the queen. If Dr. Ellert discovered the truth, then Donica would get rid of him, and Corene was so fond of the professor that she did everything in her power to keep such a thing from happening. But it happened. And now Etienne knew the truth . . . and he was gone.

Corene moved unhappily through her bedchamber, clad in a sheer white housecoat, long and flowing and hanging off her naked shoulders. Her white mane was down and dazzled in the sunlight pouring through open windows that loomed high to the ceiling. It was the middle of the day, and while she usually would have been fully dressed and attending court, she could not bring herself to leave her bedchamber. Etienne had been gone for more than a day; the queen was furious and had already sent mastiffs to find him. But Donica had not yet approached Corene on the issue.

It wasn't as if they never saw each other. They ate breakfast and supper at the great table in the dining hall, sitting opposite each other across what felt like miles of smooth tablecloth. Donica smiled and chatted and pretended everything was alright, but Corene knew the storm was coming. She just couldn't predict when.

Lunch was always taken in the garden with the court, and before the ambassadors, dukes, and foreign princes, Corene and Donica were all sweetness and smiles. Corene didn't know what disturbed her more: Donica's ability to pretend or the violence that lurked behind her loving eyes.

And Donica was definitely violent. Once when Corene was a child, Donica smacked her with a solid gold brush, leaving her with a mouthful of blood. There were other times when she grabbed Corene by the mane or shook her or simply yelled at her. Corene's offences were always along the lines of having failed to make Etienne love her, pay attention to her at public affairs, or get her pregnant in order to ensnare him. She had been trying to get with the prince's child for years, and each time she failed, she was on the receiving end of Donica's abuse.

But Donica's moments of violence were so few and far in-between that the only one who knew about them was Flavia, who was often in the room - cringing in a corner - as the princess shrank from the fury of the queen. Corene had done everything in her power to please Donica, while keeping their violent altercations a strict secret. Growing up, she knew the queen could have her banished at the drop of a hat, stripping her of the titles and wealth she had come to thrive upon. And Corene would rather die than become a prostitute in some back alley in Mocuria.

There were many times when the princess could have simply run away. But running would mean giving up everything - the wealth, the comfort, the adoration of the public - and Etienne. She didn't think she could be without Etienne. Not that she really had him, she reminded herself bitterly.

When Corene was a child, she had been afraid of Donica, and it was her fear that kept her from running or retaliating more than anything. But now she was a grown bitch and fully understood what power she held over the queen. She knew all the queen's dirty secrets and could have the female's head on a platter before sundown if she wanted - while at the same time maintaining her own status as princess. The only problem was Etienne. If Etienne did not acknowledge and marry her, she was nothing without royal blood. She was nothing and could do nothing. Oh! If only that foolish boy hadn't run away! They could have triumphed over Donica together. But instead he was gone. And his absence ruined the game. For when he went, he took half the deck with him.

"No, Flavia, not today," Corene muttered when the pretty Beauceron slave dipped the brush in her rouge.

Flavia looked at Corene with pleading gray eyes. She wanted Corene to get dressed and go outside, least the queen use the opportunity to storm her bedchamber and berate her. But Corene refused to fear Donica anymore. In fact, she was waiting for her to come.

"Why don't you run along, darling?" Corene said soothingly. She took the makeup brush from the slave and cupped her face. "Run on, sweetheart. You don't have to suffer. I do."

Flavia shook her head. Breathless and miserable, she leaned forward and kissed Corene warm on the mouth. Her fingers tightened on Corene's arms as she prolonged the kiss, slipping in her red tongue, sweet and soft. Corene's heart fluttered as she received the fervent and silent admiration.

"Mm - F-Flavia --"

"I don't want to watch her h-hurt you," Flavia whispered hoarsely.

Corene stared. Slaves were never supposed to speak, and Flavia had never spoken in all twenty years of their companionship.

"I d-don't want . . ." Flavia tried again. Her voice cracked from sheer lack of use. "Her to hurt . . ."

"Oh, darling," Corene said gently and pinched the slave's chin. "You can't protect me. I'll be just fine. You run along --"

"N-No, mistress!" Flavia sank to her knees, and slipping her slender arms around Corene's waist, she dropped her cheek in her lap.

Corene sighed and stroked the slave's mane.

"I love you, mistress," Flavia whispered.

Corene's lashes fluttered in surprise. But she didn't have a chance to respond to the slave: Donica swept into her bedchamber, resplendent in red and gold. The low cut gown hugged her naked shoulders and the swell of her riding breasts as she glided into the room. She was carrying her parasol under her arm, and Corene could only assume she had just taken lunch in the garden with the court. Her red mane was down around her shoulders and swept into a partial bun. Her slave Primus was one step behind her, black body hard with muscles.

Gently brushing Flavia aside, Corene rose gracefully from her chair and curtsied deeply to the queen. "Your highness . . . to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Donica smiled, her slanted eyes hooded as she looked down her nose at the princess. "I simply wondered why the court and I must suffer your absence." She glanced around the room. "There are rumors already that our dear prince has fled because you love another. I am pleased to see no evidence of Markus hiding under your bed, however."

Corene, for a moment, almost let her eyes flicker anger. But she kept her composure.

Markus was Corene's fencing trainer, a handsome black Belgian Shepherd she had loved when a girl. At seventeen, she took him to her bed. He was her first. When the queen found out, she demanded that Corene get rid of him. But she didn't. She kept Markus around for years . . . until she realized that she was dallying with someone beneath her and abruptly released him from her services. He was heartbroken, but he took the hint: she was going to be a queen and as such, her body and soul should belong to her king. She was content to wait for Etienne after that, but she always kept the ring Markus had given her. Yet Etienne . . . he had taken that too. Even while she was still paying for Markus and her defiance in bedding him.

"Is there something her majesty desires?" Corene said pleasantly and folded her paws over her belly. She felt awkward talking to Donica in her sheer housecoat and underclothes, but she had to remind herself that Donica had seen her naked.

"Are you up for a bit of fencing, darling?" the queen replied. "I know your footwork isn't up to par. And I do so miss our little sparring sessions."

"I . . ." Corene was too surprised to form a sentence: she and Donica hadn't sparred in five years.

In fact, Corene had always practiced with a trainer, hiring on another after she released Markus. It was known throughout the kingdom - and throughout the world - that Donica was a master with a foil. Corene had studied hard for years to match her, and even after twenty years of training, it was still said no one could touch the queen. She had never won against Donica, and looking at her smug face, she didn't expect to win now.

"I . . . would love to, your highness," Corene managed at last and smiled. "Nothing would give me greater pleasure."

Donica slowly smiled, revealing her fangs. "Good. We shall spar immediately." She turned with a swish of her great skirts and clicked from the room, Primus in tow.

Corene didn't like that smile, and she didn't know what to think as Flavia helped into her white fencing gear. But she went to the training room two floors below to find the queen already there on the polished floor. No one else was present but for Primus, who stood against the wall holding a tray with a pitcher and two glasses of water -- ah. So Donica meant to interrogate Corene privately, and in such a situation as she could not avoid direct confrontation.

Flavia had come with Corene and went to stand beside Primus, meekly putting her head down and rubbing her arm when he glanced at her. Corene knew why Flavia was so awkward and shy: Primus had made love to Flavia on several occasions for the queen's pleasure. Primus was indifferent to her, but Flavia had something of a tiny crush on the big Beauceron.

Queen Donica was dressed in her white fencing gear. The tight-fitting fabric hugged her slight curves and bosom as she smiled at Corene. She had yet to put on her helmet and was holding it under her arm as Corene approached, red mane flowing in a low ponytail behind her shoulders. The foils they would be using were on the table behind her.

"Prompt as ever, child," Donica observed.

"The princess knows better than to keep her lady waiting," Corene returned pleasantly.

Donica's sly eyes smiled. "Well trained, aren't you? Let us see how well our dear Markus has trained you."

Corene almost glowered but kept her pleasant smile in check. Markus had been gone for years, yet Donica seemed keen on twisting that particular knife. The queen was trying to get a reaction out of her, and the easiest way to best her was not to react at all. Donica thrived on stabbing and seeing cries of pain. Showing no reaction would bore her and she would stop. Hopefully.

"Markus was an excellent master of the sport," Corene said, as pleasantly as if she were discussing her favorite cakes.

"But was he an excellent master of other sports, darling?" the queen lightly teased. She took up her foil, appraising the needle-thin blade with a cocked eyebrow. "You used to wear his ring regularly. Now it is gone. Vanished into some drawer, perhaps? Or perhaps into a hope chest?" She smiled mockingly.

Corene took up her foil, considering her words carefully. "I have simply learned not to think of Markus, your grace. As you have instructed me."

They moved to the center of the polished wooden floor, and Donica pulled on her helmet. Corene did the same. Flavia watched with bated breath. Primus watched indifferently.

"Ha. And to think - it took how many years for you to follow this instruction?"

They went into fight stance.

"I was lonely, your grace," Corene admitted - and hated herself immediately.

The princess was first to strike and attempted a feint. A mistake on her part. She had allowed Donica's nasty jibes to distract her, and Donica easily parried - then struck. She screamed softly as her sleeve ripped in a line of blood: Donica's foil had no safety knob.

Corene's arm shook with pain. She slowly looked up, and though she could not see Donica's face, somehow, she knew the queen was smiling. She swallowed hard and went into fight stance again. Her own foil had a red safety knob on the end, but Donica's was sharp and lethal. And she knew the queen would show no mercy.

They sparred, and Corene gave it everything she had. Their shuffling feet in the silence seemed painfully loud. The queen came at her, relentlessly, viciously, but she managed to parry and counter each and every time. Corene's offense had always been subpar, but her defense was excellent. If she couldn't attack Donica, she could at least defend herself.

After a while, it became clear Donica hadn't counted on Corene having developed any sort of skill - even defensive. The queen called their silent struggle to a halt, and removing her helmet, she went to Primus and took one of the glasses he carried. Corene did the same, setting her foil on the table beside Donica's.

"I . . . am impressed," the queen said heavily. "And disappointed, child. Your defense is excellent. And yet, you aren't nearly as cutthroat as one would have hoped. Pity."

"I am sorry to have displeased her highness," Corene said -- in such a dull, rehearsed voice that Donica laughed.

"I submitted you to this training in the hope that you would use it in a political sense as much as a literal one. I thought you would have had the spine to keep Etienne in check by now. But you let him walk all over you." Donica shook her head in disgust. "Oh yes," she said when a look of surprise crossed Corene's face. "I know about the incident in the chapel. I know he took your precious ring and shook you about by the ear before he left."

Corene bitterly averted her eyes. She wasn't surprised: Donica had as many spies in the castle as Corene did. She looked at her glass as she answered, "Why didn't you stop him, your grace?"

Donica smiled. "I wished to see what he would do with his freedom. It will tell me a great deal about what's going on in that mind of his. And make him easier to control when I bring him home."

Corene stared at her glass and didn't know what to say. That Donica had known all along was . . . frightening. The queen was not omnipresent, but she was damn close. "But . . ." Corene licked her lips and frowned. "How could you ever hope to control him now? He knows." She looked at the queen with said eyes. "He knows about Evelyn . . . and I think he knows about his majesty the king too."

"He thinks he knows," Donica returned with a sneer. "I was rid of any solid evidence, you know that, girl. There is just enough evidence in the archives that it could be interpreted any number of ways. He will believe anything I tell him - as he has always believed. He will believe you."

Corene looked at her quickly. "Me?" She laughed flatly. "Etienne hates me. Why on earth would he listen to me now? He knows that I knew all along. He practically spit in my face." She looked at her glass and tears rose hot to blind her.

"Darling," Donica said soothingly and touched Corene's face.

Corene looked at her, blinking out tears.

"We will bring Etienne home and he will marry you and everything will be fine. You will see," the queen said lovingly.

Corene closed her eyes, letting those soothing words fall over her.

Donica took her paw away and drank from her glass again. "I have sent mastiffs to spy on our prince. They have monitored his movements and have sent back word. They believe he is heading for Howlester."

Corene looked up and gasped.

"I know," the queen said darkly. "We will let him meet his charming little family. We will let them tell him their version of the truth. Then you will appear at the estate, tell them some horrible secret you have discovered concerning Bastian's death, that I have injured you, and you fear for your life."

Corene glanced at the torn sleeve of her fencing gear. She was still bleeding, and the dark red blood slid in a line down her glove to hit the polished floor. The pain was searing and she blinked furiously to ignore it. "Etienne doesn't care about me, your grace," she said unhappily. "I can not imagine he would return to protect me."

Donica smiled. "You underestimate the power of doubt, dear girl. We only need plant a small seed of doubt in his mind. I have told him Bastian died of pneumonia. You will tell him Bastian killed himself, guilt-ridden for having murdered Evelyn. The Kingsleys will tell him yet another version of the tale. He won't know who to believe. And Duke Richard is such a raging prick, I do believe he will do half the work for us."

Corene heaved a miserable breath. Could she really lie to Etienne again? But she thought of life without him and strengthened her resolve. If only she could bring him back, she and the prince could take Donica down together. And then they could rule Varimore side by side, without her.

"I will leave for Howlester as soon as you wish it, your majesty," Corene said to her glass.

"Good."

Corene heard Donica set down her glass - then a vicious slap sent her head to the side. She took the strike in defiant silence and more hot tears rose to blind her. Her jaw trembled and an ache spread under her eye. The queen had hit her so hard, she'd dropped her glass, and it lay in wet fragments on the floor. Little Flavia scrambled to clean up the mess as the queen stood glaring at Corene.

"That was for Markus," Donica whispered and swept from the room.

Corene stared at the floor, paws trembling, as she listened to her depart.