The Right Queen

The Ball

For being in outrageous debt, King Bormere didn't hold anything back for the ball. The richest people of the kingdom strutted around the ballroom in gold, silver and bronze robes, adorned with so much jewelry Prince Thayer thought they might tip over. No one dared to wear the royal red, the color that he and his father were adorned in. Pigs, sheep and even a small dragon roasted on pits on the castle lawn, servants slicing them on metal stakes and passing them around for the guests to sample. Strings of jewels hung across the ceiling: diamonds, rubies and sapphires gleamed against the candlelight. Prince Thayer smiled; he knew they were the work of Eldra. She stood alone in the corner, in an unassuming pale blue dress. When Prince Thayer caught her eyes she gave him a stern look. He was supposed to be paying attention to Magistrate Katrina, his current dance partner, who was going on and on about the tax system in the Former Fae Realm.

"We all pay fifty percent, but each person has every need met: food, healers, roads, whatever. I can even scrape a bit off the top for personal palace needs, like I was able to put a small lake in my bedroom this year." Magistrate Katrina grinned. She had short blue hair that stuck up straight, and her dress was so sheer if the Prince looked down for too long, he started to blush. "But the Former Fae Realm is small. Boring, perfect. It's much more exciting out here, where there is some unrest. And the castle is incredible!"

"Um, yeah, it is," Prince Thayer replied. Magistrate Katrina didn't mention the fairies they enslaved performed all the labor in their land, making it "affordable" for the humans of their nation. "I need to get a drink, do you want one?" Magistrate Katrina nodded enthusiastically, and the Prince escaped the dance floor. She was last of the three potential princesses he had danced with. Princess Kira hadn't said a word, only sobbed quietly the whole time while her tutor yelled things for her to say across the dance floor. Empress Adele had been bold - she had no interest in a treaty. A marriage between them would mean the Great North expanding their territory south and taking over Lialta.

"Try not to look like someone is torturing you," Eldra said and took the drink from his hands that he had meant for Magistrate Katrina, but she had made a beeline for King Bormere in his absence, no doubt trying to impress the king to win the throne. Prince Thayer took the opportunity to usher Eldra outside.

"God, it's horrible in there. But, I know, I don't have any real problems compared the impoverished in our nation," Thayer added before Eldra had the chance. He knew that he was lucky to live in the castle and to have his life, especially after hearing about Eldra's childhood as a witch. Immerson twinkled in the night, lights on the restaurants and bars hoping to attract rich visitors who may still manage to be hungry after the ball.

"Any of these ladies tickling your fancy?" Eldra asked, then coughed on her wine. "God this is terrible. Why would anyone choose alcohol over chocolate?"

"Not everyone is as emotionally stable as you are," Prince Thayer replied. "And the women are fine, it's all fine."

"You can tell me the truth, I won't tease you, I promise." Eldra squeezed his shoulder, reassuring him.

"They are all so... regal. And in some ways that is good. They have plans to combine our nations. But I do not want Lialta to be lost in the mess. None of them know our people and how to best help them. They are still looking at the interests of their own nations. But my responsibility weighs upon me."

Eldra looked off into the night sky, her dark hair shining against the stars. "Your responsibility will always be to your people. Whatever you do, hold that fast in your heart, and you'll make the right decision."

Thayer wished he could be as confident in himself as Eldra was. "Thank you," he replied. It was quiet, for a moment. Eldra took her hand off his shoulder and shoved her wine goblet into his hands.

"You're welcome. Now, finish my wine. I don't want your father to think I am an ungrateful brute, but it smells like Winifred's farts after eating too many apples."