The War of Queens

Chapter 42

Elizabeth

 The screams could be heard from far away. Through the tranquil morning air, the distant cries for help, for the gods, for whatever would save them, reached Elizabeth’s ears - and to her, every single one of those cries sounded like Angelique.

 “Elizabeth,” Ishmael said, shaking her from her trance.

 She smiled at him. “Yes?”

 He wore a worried frown. He had been, ever since he settled in the chair next to Elizabeth, overlooking the battlefield. His scriptures were opened on his knees, but he had not paid much attention to them. “Are you well?”

 “Yes, I am fine,” she told him, her gaze returning to the battle. It was too far away for her to see much, but could make out small black dots moving amongst themselves in front of the great, looming holdfast.

 “Would you like to pray with me?” he asked, his voice soft.

 She furrowed. “Does it help?”

 “God listens to us, but sometimes he is not able to fulfill our wishes, if they are not good or right…”

 She cut him off. “I know your god does not exist,” she told him, more harshly than she intended. “I do not want ask for victory. I just…” She looked away. “Does it help me to feel better?”

 She could feel his gaze on her, studying her, so she clenched her eyes shut, hoping he would not see through her as he so often did.

 “Feel better about this battle,” he said, “or about this war?”

 Her head hurt just trying to make out the meaning of his words. “I am frightened,” she told him. “I keep thinking that perhaps Angelique will not come back.”

 “She will,” he reassured her. “Angelique has been practicing for two years now, waiting for this. You know she’s good.”

 “Yes, she is good,” she agreed. “And she’s trained for two years - but most of the soldiers out there have trained their entire lives.”

 “That’s where you’re wrong,” a voice sounded from behind them. It was deep, dark, almost like a growl. It sounded like a dense forest and the animals that hid within.

 Elizabeth was not entirely surprised when she turned around and saw Asha. Her hair was pulled back tightly into a bun and she wore men’s pants, rough-spun and practical, and a loose tunic above it. Her golden eyes stood out unnaturally from her dark face.

 She nodded towards the battlefield. “Most of those soldiers haven’t had more than a few weeks’ practice. They are the sons of butchers, farmers, cattle-drivers, tanners - and most of them were not soldiers until they were recruited less than a month ago, when we sent out our declaration of war.”

 It was the first time Asha had spoken to Elizabeth, at least the first time when Caterina was not around. Unsure what else to say, Elizabeth gestured to an empty chair. “Please, have a seat.”

 “Thank you, but I can’t.” She looked out at the battle with longing in her eyes. “I should be out there, protecting my people.”

 Ishmael frowned. “Why are you not, then?”

 She snorted. “My people needs me alive more than they need me on the battlefield, I’m afraid.”

 Elizabeth watched her pace around the field restlessly, shooting glances towards the battle constantly, and asked, “What do you need?”

 Asha turned around to stare at her, golden eyes no longer molted but fixed at Elizabeth. “What do you mean?”

 “I mean, have you ever considered doing what you need rather than what they need?”