A Gilded Cage | Tales From The Court of Ravaeryn

02 | bloodline

The tiles below her feet had been polished so diligently that they glimmered like water, and she was suddenly afraid that her dirty shoes would leave a mark. 

        Queen Isabel's sitting room was not at all inferior to the grandeur of the receiving hall, in fact, it was far more opulent, to the point that it seemed excessive. Dinah Finley seemed to be a great admirer, however.

The mother and daughter pair were ushered inside, though the Queen herself was nowhere to be seen. 

The sofa that Eleanora sat down on felt like a cloud, and the velvet cushions were so soft against her skin. She stared at the edges of the cushion, which were trimmed with gold thread, and she subconsciously traced the patterns, wondering how much money it would cost to produce a single cushion.

       Even the Queen's footstool was embroidered with gold thread, and she was certain that if she cut and stole them away, she would not have to worry about money for the rest of her life.

             "The Queen has arrived !" the butler announced, and the doors to the room swung open. Eleanora's blood ran cold as she looked up, staring straight into the chilling gaze of Queen Isabel.

      The young girl always thought that brown eyes were beautiful, enchanting even. They exuded a gentle, welcoming warmth, and though the Queen's amber brown eyes were indeed lovely, all Eleanora could see in her eyes were coldness and scrutiny.

She subconsciously stood up, silently watching as the Queen glided into the room, her sharp heels clacking against the polished floor. 

          For a moment, Eleanora wondered how this cold, domineering woman could be her father's sister. Christopher Finley had been nothing but kind and silly, the exact opposite of this woman standing in before her.

             "Come here, girl," she said as she sat down, a dainty arm outstretched, beckoning her over. "Let me see your face."

Eleanora froze, her feet rooted on the floor, and she wordlessly stared on. Upon seeing her daughter's lack of response, Dinah Finley panicked and quickly shook her awake, thrusting her in the Queen's direction. 

          The young girl's heart lurched in her chest, and she hastily balanced her steps in order to prevent herself from face planting on the floor in the Queen's presence. 

             "Your Majesty," she greeted, presenting her best attempt at a curtsey. She had no former training whatsoever-- it would be bold of us to assume that Dinah Finley would know about noble pleasantries, let alone teach them to her daughter. Eleanora had seen little girls curtseying when they played princess, and naturally she assumed that it was the correct way. 

      Needless to say, it was not. 

The young lady-in-waiting standing beside the Queen let out a faint chuckle, and Eleanora's cheeks simultaneously turned a brilliant red.

               "So you are my brother's daughter," Queen Isabel drawled, assessing her from head to toe. "What is your name, girl ?"

              "Eleanora," she murmured, her voice shaking with fear. "My name is Eleanora, Your Majesty."

              "Eleanora ?" the Queen repeated, her tone now one of curiosity, and if one delved deeper, they could hear a hint of remorse. "He named you that ?"

The young girl nodded silently, her lips still and motionless. In front of her, the Queen began to chuckle, but it was not a lighthearted one. Far from it, to tell the truth.

       It was dark and grim, and though her rouge smeared lips were curved into a smile, her eyes were completely empty and void of joy.

                 "Did he ever tell you about your grandmother, sweet girl ?" the Queen asked, gently pulling Eleanora closer to her. "Or about how she died ?"

Eleanora had never met her grandmother, nor did she have any idea of what she looked like. None of the Finleys ever had their portraits painted-- they were too poor for that. With the exception of the Queen Isabel, of course. Isabel Finley.

               "No, Your Majesty," she mustered a reply.

The Queen then smiled, and this time, genuinely. She lifted up her hand, where rows of gold bangles extended from her small wrist to her elbow, and gestured Eleanora to sit down beside her.

       The young girl dutifully did as she was ordered, and eventually her heart began to calm down. Afterall, the Queen is her own bloodkin, her dearest aunt.

                 "My mother-- your grandmother-- was also named Eleanora. Eleanora Finley," the Queen murmured wistfully. "And you, sweet girl, look exactly like her!"

      Eleanora blinked in surprise, a hint of pride swelling in her chest. "I do ?"

Queen Isabel nodded, gently stroking the messy wisps of Eleanora's gold-red hair. "You do. My mother had the same red hair, the same bright green eyes. It makes perfect sense why my brother named you after her."

                 "How did she die, Your Majesty ?" Eleanora braved herself to ask, and Queen Isabel's eyes snapped back towards her in an instant.

                  "She died giving birth to our youngest brother," she replied coldly. "I was twelve, and your father was fifteen.
She knew that she was too old to safely bear children, and she was far from healthy. Whether she was truly foolish or simply selfless, I will never know. The boy died only hours later, so her efforts were all for naught."

         Eleanora breathed sharply as she heard those words. The Queen turned her gaze towards the young girl, and calmly she said, "Well, what about you, Eleanora ? Will you be a fool too ?"