Silver Rose

Her Majesty

"Reah took the bread dough out of the bowl and slammed it on the counter.

“What are we to do, Tara?” She asked. “What are we to do?”

Tara watched Reah’s hands pound at the white dough.

“I don’t know,” she said.

“She will not stand to have us around for much longer,” Reah said, folding the dough and pushing her fists into it. “And then what? We cannot abandon our pledges.”

Tara sighed.
“I know. I feel itchy all over just from not knowing where the princess is… well, at least from not being sure.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know.”

“I told the king’s men that and at the time I wasn’t very sure. But now I think I know.”

Reah looked at her expectantly.

“Well? Where is she?”

“I can’t say it. The walls have ears, you know.”

Reah slapped the dough.

“Aye, don’t I know it.”

The mirror had returned. This time the king didn’t give it to the queen. One day it just showed up and took over. Every fairy in the vicinity had felt the mirror awaken eleven years ago. At the time they hadn’t known it was the mirror; they only knew that something sinister was afoot. Two years later, Queen Safie died after going mad. The next year, the king remarried. This time to a young woman from the country. But it didn’t take the staff very long to figure out that the new queen was far from being a simple country bumpkin. Almost immediately, she established herself as sole master of the palace. The king was too old to resist her demands and the princess was too young to exert her own share of power. The crown prince had never in his life tried to stand up for himself.

“We are all dead,” Reah said, placing the dough into a pan.

“Reah, she can’t kill us,” Tara said. “She’s only human you know.”

“She’s not ‘only human’, Tara. She’s a witch or sorceress… either way, she knows dark magic. And if she is powerful enough, she can make us wish she could kill us.”

Tara sighed. Reah was right.

“If only we had a Fauye here,” Tara said.

Reah snorted.
“A Fauye? What could they do?”

“Plenty! Reah, a Fauye could be rid of the queen forever with a snap of a finger!”

“And how do you know that Tara?”

“The stories all say that Fauyes are so powerful—“

“Oh, don’t tell me you actually go by the word of
stories?!”

“Reah, the stories don’t lie.”

“Don’t they? If the Fauyes are so incredibly powerful why did they runaway and hide? It seems to me that the weak hide. The strong stand their ground.”

Reah picked up two pans full of dough and
walked over to the ovens.

“Maybe they didn’t hide,” Tara said loudly (the ovens were almost at the side of the kitchen). “Maybe they didn’t want to stay where they weren’t appreciated.”

Reah shoved the pans into an oven. Then she walked toward Tara.

“How many of those snotty nosed princesses has ever thanked you for watching over them?” She asked. “Out of the hundreds of years I’ve been here I can count on one hand how many people have ever thanked me for the meals I provide.” She sat down at the table. “We are not appreciated, Tara, and yet we stay.”

Tara put her forehead in her hand.

“But the elves left also, as did the charmints.”

“Every kind of elf left. Every charmint, but the speechless wolmens, left. And yet only one kind of fairy left this world. And they didn’t even have the decency to let the rest of us know where they went to.”

The kitchen door opened. Two sleepy eyed maids and a servant boy dragged their feet into the kitchen.

“You’re late,” Reah said, standing. “Well, don’t stand there looking stupid! You start the bacon, you get on the porridge, and you go get those berries that were picked yesterday.”

“Yes ma’am,” the servants said.

“We’ll need to add gruel and strong tea to breakfast this morning, the king caught a nasty cold last night. So only the queen and prince... and um, princess will be eating the regular breakfast. That is unless the queen wants something else.” Reah shuddered. “If she does, Opal, do not use the clean pots. Use that old one I showed you. She can’t tell the difference.”

“Yes ma’am,” Opal said.

“Lucky us,” Reah said to Tara, “Her Majesty is beginning to take to having her meat raw.”

Tara remembered the first time Reah had to cook the queen’s meat. All she had thought was how strange it was that the queen wanted liver for breakfast. It wasn’t until after the meat went to the breakfast table that she learned it was Gren Oldham. Gren had worked in the palace for fifty years. And Reah cried (and vomited) for fifty hours after she found out she had cut up and boiled his dead liver.

Now the queen’s morning ritual was routine. Everyday, someone in Akinsis went missing, but they never failed to end up in the queen’s stomach one way or another.

“I’d better go check on my girls,” Tara said, standing. The Queen had not touched any of the servants of the royal family. The king still had enough power to oust her.

“Yes, let us hope Queen Renata has lost her appetite for the day,” Reah said, walking toward the stove.

“Good morning, Reah,” Tara said.

“Good morning,” Reah called. The servant boy walked in with a bowl of blueberries. “It’s about time you came with those berries, Drew. The prince would have a fit if he got his porridge without his berries.”

Tara walked into the cool hallway. The king couldn’t live forever and the prince couldn’t be counted on to take his powerful place. Without an heir, the queen could rid of the prince without much worry. And the only other person in her way would be the princess.



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Rain poured down in sheets. Wind threw the water into her eyes. Blindly, she trudged through the puddles and mud. Thunder rang in her ears. She used her memory to find her way. Her feet confidently walked the path.


Suddenly, her mind went blank. She couldn't remember where she was (or where she thought she was). It was happening again. she would remember for awhile, then her memories would be taken away from her.

Now she stood in a storm, alone, and confused. She tried to recall her name, she knew it just a moment ago... but now it eluded her. She was someone--but who?

Sighing, she sat on the cold ground. She would just have to stay there and wait until she remembered again. Shivering, she pulled her cloak closer around her body. It didn't help. Rain fell all around her. She heard it tinking, plinking, tapping, raping, hitting everything with a million fingers. The wind made trees rustle and moan.

That was all there was. A roaring sheet of rain surrounded her, fell upon her. And there was the moaning, and the flashes of light, and the low growl of thunder.

She sat there. And sat there--for a very long time. It felt like a very long time. There was nothing. No thoughts came to her...nothing. But the rain.

The rain didn't come down so hard anymore. She could make out trees, bushes, and a building, a big building. She wondered where she had been going to.

Flash! Crack! A bolt of lightening struck a tree a few feet away from her. The tree burst into flame. Wild fear whipped through her body. Screaming, she scrambled to get to her feet. She ran to get away from the fire. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest. Another fire flashed in her mind, but just before she could remember why, it fluttered away. Scared to death, she ran with no where to go. Suddenly, she saw the big building in front of her. She had to get away from the fire. She didn't want to get burned. The thought of burning sent another memory that flew across her mind.

Thunder roared above. Screaming in fear, she slipped and fell in the mud. Quickly getting up, she ran and slid, and ran and slid all the way to the building. Once there, she banged on the door.

"Help me!" She screamed. "Please! Help me! Help me!" The fire in her mind grew, it surrounded her. "The fire! Please! I can't get out! Fire! Fire! Help me!" She beat on the door with her fists. The fire was falling. It was falling on her. "Ahhhhhhh!" She screamed.

The door opened, but it was too late.

"Who is it, Richard?" Someone asked.

The fire landed on her, consuming her. With a gasp, she fell to the ground.

Her eyes were open. Water splashed into her eyes, nose, and mouth. Everything around her was fuzzy. Faces stood above her. Voices all around her.

"Is she all right?" "Who is she?" "Is she dead?" "She's mad, that's for sure." "There's no fire!" "Stark raving mad!" "She's alive!" "Should we take her to the abbey?" "She looks very ill." "That's why we should take her to the abbey." "Frank, we can take care of her here." "Norma! We can't have a mad woman in the manor!" "What do you think Richard? Claire? Gerald? Come now!" "Mayhap we should ask lord--"

"What's going on?! What was all that screaming?!"

"A young lady my lord. She's very ill."

"Well, why don't you bring her in?"

"Um... we believe she's mad sir. Should we take her to the abbey? They'll know what to do with her."

"Yes... I suppose that will be best."

"Very well, my lord. Claire, tell Jeremy to get the carriage ready. Gerald, help me get her out of the rain for a moment. Frank, Norma, get some blankets and bread. And tea."

She felt her body being lifted of the ground. The rain splattered on her face. Then suddenly it stopped.

"Where did the rain go?" She asked the two men carrying her. They gave each other an odd look.

"We're inside now, miss." One said.

They sat her down on something.

"Don't worry, Lord Drihagee," one man said. "Gerald and I will make sure she gets to the abbey or even the asylum if they want us to. You need'n't concern yourself with this. Lord Drihagee?"

"Lord Drihagee?" The other said.

She turned her head to see the man they were speaking to. Lord Drihagee was staring at her. Suddenly, she didn't want to be there.

"I want to go home," she said. "I want to go home! I want to go home!" She began to cry.

Someone held her hand. She looked up. Lord Drihagee had her hand in one of his. His other hand gently stroked her face.

"It's all right," he said, soothingly. "I'll take you home. I'll take you home, Mara."

She peered into his kind blue eyes. They seemed so familiar. She concentrated really hard. Every fiber in her being tried to remember him. All she wanted to remember was his name. Something about him made her heart flutter. But nothing came. A tear slid down her cheek. Finally she said,

"I'm sorry. I don't know who you are. Please take me home."

She never saw eyes as heartbroken as his.