Mortal (Book 3)

Chapter 17

~

"Just a little tighter your highness..!" Taarie insists, drawing the strings on my corset impossibly tight.
"You pull that any tighter, I'll start swinging!" I threaten as Endarie does her best to restrain me from pummeling her sister. Taarie doesn't even flinch, and tugs at the strings once more, my lungs struggling against the pressure as she ties it.
"There we go. Now, the dress." Endarie says, turning to the box they've laid on my bed. The battle of getting the queen into a corset has become a commonplace occurrence among my two seamstresses, and they're not even fazed anymore. Erdi appears in the doorway.
"When you're finished with your dress fitting your majesty, you have a guest." She says quietly, still a little too frightened by all the shouting to help.
"Oh no, I've got far too much to do. Just send them in now; two birds with one stone." I sigh.
"Your majesty.." Erdi says, blushing.
"What?"
"My Queen, you're not even properly dressed.." Taarie scolds me.
"And it's a man!" Erdi adds.
"And what do I care? I'm covered." I ask, folding my arms.
"Yes, in your underwear." Endarie protests.
"Fine. Put it on me, then send them in." I sigh, rolling my eyes. Endarie and Taarie blind me with white silk, pulling me through it and its sleeves like threading a needle. Once I'm properly fitted into it, they help me turn around to face the mirror. The dress obviously isn't finished, still pinned onto me in some places and open seams in others. Really, it looks more like a white silk sheet than anything. However, I'm beginning to see the finished product.
"Well I hope I'm not interrupting anything drastically important." Marcurio says, standing in the doorway.
"Marc!" I shout, running to hug him. As I wrap my arms around his neck he cries out in pain, the many pins still in my dress stabbing into him.
"Oh— sorry.." I mumble, carefully pulling away from him.
"Oh, I suppose that's alright your majesty." He jokes. I scoff, shaking my head.
"Don't call me that." I sigh, chuckling.
"Then should I call you Dovahjud? Briijudin?" He says, and I laugh even harder. The names sound wrong in his mouth, just like they do in everyone else's. Even Ulfric, who trained with the Greybeards even longer than I did, doesn't seem to say them quite right.
"Absolutely not." I scoff. "Where did you even hear about all that?"
"I don't know a single person that hasn't. Announcements were sent out to all the holds. Everyone that hasn't been living under a rock has heard the story of your coronation." He explains. I almost roll my eyes; the publicity is nearly unbearable.
"Have you brought Camilla with you?" I ask him.
"She's resting in the tavern; it was a long journey." He explains.
"The tavern? Why in oblivion are you staying in the tavern?" I exclaim.
"Well—" he starts.
"Forget it, I don't even want to hear it. You and Camilla are guests of the High Queen, and you're to stay here." I demand.
"Well, if we aren't miss-bossy-pants-leader-of-the-nation." He jokes.
"And you'd do well to remember it, too. Come, you must meet Ulfric—" I start, about to lead him off into the palace.
"Majesty, no! He mustn't see the dress! It's bad luck!" Erdi exclaims, pulling me back into my bedroom.
"Well this is barely a dress..." I mumble.
"And we're not nearly done with the fitting." Endarie adds, not quite hearing me.
"I'll leave you to your royal fitting, your majesty High Queen." Marcurio says, bowing dramatically in the doorway.
"Fine, but I'm inviting you and Camilla to dinner with Ulfric and I this evening. Nothing too fancy; just the four of us, so don't let her worry about what to wear. I'll probably wear pants myself." I tell him.
"Absolutely not!" Taarie exclaims, stabbing me with another pin.

~

After my dress fitting from oblivion is over, I head back to my desk to find a small, beaten up chest sitting on top of it that wasn't there before. I look quickly around the room, reaching for the dagger I keep hidden in my sleeve. There's no way anyone could have delivered the chest without my noticing since I was in the room through my whole fitting, but yet here it is. After thoroughly searching the room and finding it empty, I sheath my dagger and walk to the door. The guard posted nearby immediately straightens up, puffing out his chest.
"Soldier. Have you seen anyone unfamiliar entering or leaving my room today?" I ask the guard.
"No majesty, except the mage you spoke to earlier." He says. I glance up and down the hallway; Nothing but guards.
"No one is to enter my room but Jarl Ulfric until I say otherwise. If I'm needed, knock and I'll come to the door. Are we clear?" I tell him briskly, and he nods.
"Yes, Stormbl- your majesty!" He corrects himself. I shut the double doors and return to the chest.
The poor little thing is ancient, it's hinges and nails horribly rusted almost beyond recognition. I don't know how the wood isn't rotting. Behind it on the desk is a key, which I assume is for the chest, laying on top of a folded note.