White Magic

The Beginning

The Dark Ages

Brandenburg-Prussia

The queen allowed the servant girl to help her remove the heavy overcoat. A draft blew its way through the fortress wall, and the queen shivered. Shrugging her shoulders, she jerked her head at the girl, careful not to touch her.. “Bring me some tea.”

“Yes, your majesty.” Keeping her eyes averted, the girl disappeared down a long hall.

The queen paused outside the great hall, listening to the king in audience with a few peasants. She rolled her eyes, not understanding how the king could have patience with such nonsense. The man was too soft for her taste. Were she on the throne, this province would be stronger.

Someone rapped on the exterior door, the sound echoing off the stones to her right. Probably another unhappy citizen. A curl of chestnut brown hair slid down her neck. She pushed it back into place, admiring the sparkle of the large ruby ring on her right hand. Warmth radiated from the stone, tingling as it made its way down her arm. A magical ring, it magnified her Essence, allowing her to hear the thoughts of anyone she touched.

The manservant opened the door. She couldn’t make out the words, but the discussion grew heated. The queen made her way to the front entry, nearly bumping into the man servant.

“Your majesty.” His lips quivered in agitation, and he readjusted the ruffles of his blouse. “A man at the door insists on seeing you.”

She arched an eyebrow. Nobody insisted on anything around here. “Send him away.”

He uttered a sigh. “I tried. He said he will cause a scandal and rouse the street rats.”

A trouble maker. Perhaps something interesting. “Follow me.” She strode down the worn carpet, her pointed shoes making a light thump with each step.

The man stood in the doorway, holding a brown sack and wearing a bright red hat. Gray dotted his auburn beard.

“A peddler.” She barely contained a laugh. “We have no need for your wares.”

“Your Majesty.” He smiled, revealing several missing teeth. “I have something of particular interest to you.”

His rank breath washed over her, and she waved a hand in front of her face, already bored. “I doubt it.” She turned away.

“It is a portrait of Your Majesty.”

She halted but didn’t face him.

“I painted it myself. I captured you in all your magnificence and beauty.”

Her curiosity piqued again. She crossed her arms under her chest and lifted her chin. She knew she was a handsome woman, with ample hips and a voluptuous bosom, a fact made more obvious because she was with child. There were many portraits of herself around the castle, some more flattering than others. “Very well. You may show me.”

He smiled again and reached into his bag. The shiny bronze frame appeared first. She would not have expected such a poor man to be able to frame his paintings, much less with such fine metals. She leaned forward, anxious for him to turn the frame around.

He gripped it in both hands and spun the painting around.

The queen drew back, her lip curling down in a snarl. A woman stood in a paradisiacal garden, clutching worn fabrics and rags to her barely concealed breasts. Trees blossomed in bright colors around her, making the harsh lines of her that much stronger. A grimace pulled at her chapped lips, dark shadows under her brown eyes. Her chestnut hair fell in ratted, limp waves around her exposed shoulders.