Queensmen

Chapter 31

~The First Test~

"Ah, Mistress, you mustn't try to kill yourself again," Mayree sobbed dramatically and took Oris' hand into both of hers. "The Emperor already said that he will try your case."

"Yes, Mistress," Andrea chimed in with equally drastic emotion, "not being part of the selection is not the end of life."

"The two of you don't understand, I—" Oris pretended swoon and lost balance while doing so. Mayree and Keziah caught her before she fell.

"Mistress, don't push yourself," Seline was immediately by her side, fanning Oris with her hands to bring back her 'consciousness'. "You have barely recovered. If you aren't careful, the effects may be irreparable. What will we do then?"

Oris didn't respond, giving her maids the opportunity to lose themselves in act as they offered more discouraging words under the guise of boosting her morale.

"If you aren't selected, I am sure that your fief wouldn't suffer," Mayree said.

"Yes, Mistress. The Emperor can't possibly kill you simply because you weren't chosen to be his bride." Seline added.

Meanwhile, in the background Andrea's cries increased.

Their play continued unchecked for some minutes more before it finally attracted attention.

"What is going on here?!"

Oris opened her eyes on hearing the familiar voice, shocked to see Faeradaigh swaggering towards them from the closed off hallway.

"Milord," she called out weakly then moaned in pain, pressing a hand to her temple.

She was surprised to see the eunuch so in his element, moving across the carpeted floor like he owned the hallway and the very stones that laid it. The guards inclined their heads to him with respect and hindered him in no way as he made his way towards her.

It seems like his position is not so simple after all. There is not one bit of disdain on these men's faces. They are glad to serve him.

Oris allowed Mayree and Keziah support her once again to full height then curtsied in the usual manner, but this time with an handkerchief in hand adding to her grace.

"Lady. . ."

"You couldn't have possibly forgotten me already, milord." Oris batted her lashes, taking mild pleasure in how distracted the eunuch seemed now that a part of her face was unobstructed by a veil.

She didn't understand him. He had escorted several women over the years to the palace, how could he lose his head over someone as simple as her?

"No. . . Never, My Lady," he fumbled over his words then patted his face with that always-soaked piece of cloth he always carried. "What are you doing here?"

"To attend the selection, milord." Oris answered him, a smile reaching her eyes as she did. In a way she had missed him and all of his gallantry and flamboyance.

As of yet no one could entertain her like he, so when he said nothing, she continued, her smile growing, "I woke up this afternoon surprised to be alive. I figured, seeing that I wasn't in the dungeons, that either the Emperor had forgiven me or discovered my innocence, or he wanted me to prove myself—my loyalty."

Once again, she could sense a wave of unease spreading through the rows of guards. It was densest where she stood and seemed to affect Faeradaigh as well as he patted dry his dripping face and cleared his throat, his mouth opening to offer a reply.

Before he could speak, Oris began to talk again, besting him while the words where stuck in his throat.

"If I have misunderstood, then I shall take my leave," she curtsied again, this time bowing her head slightly, and turned around. "I will complete what I failed at in the Great Hall."