A cup of tea

It’s a simple white cup sitting on a cushion. A teapot is placed next to it. A faint flowery scent fills the air. Delicate pale fingers tip the empty cup’s brim.

“So, what brings you here today?”

The blond woman looks up from the silver service tray to the brunette who is sitting opposite her. Both wear smiles, stitched onto their faces.

“Oh, I heard you were struggling with your health the last few days. I wanted to make sure you were fine. You look quite pale.”

The late afternoon sun bathes the room in warm light but produces a red halo around the brunette. It suits her dress and heavy jewelry.

“I appreciate your concern. This … I assume it’s a gift.”

“Well, yes. I consulted His Majesty and we both agreed that this would be the best choice for you.”

There is a pause. The blonde woman sighs. Her pale skin is emphasized by the light blue gown she is wearing. Despite the sun, there is no shine to her golden hair.

“I understand. Mary, could you bring us some biscuits? I shouldn’t drink anything on an empty stomach. Don’t you agree, Lady Laura?”

“Certainly, Your Majesty.”

The moment the maid has left the room, the queen sits up straight.

“I have to congratulate you then. You will get what you want after all.”

A small incline of the brunette’s head and this time her smile turns triumphant.

“My Queen, you know it will be the best decision for everyone. Don’t make it more difficult for His Majesty and Prince Saul.”

The queen flinches but now there is a sparkle in her eyes. The hands, which had been twisting the fabric of the voluminous skirt, unclench.

“Difficult, you say. I wonder why everything turned out so difficult in the first place. Wasn’t it your brother’s intervention who triggered these horrid events?”

Both smiles waver. Dark eyes clash with light eyes.

“This shouldn’t be of any concern to you anymore. If you know what’s best for the realm, I hope you won’t hesitate any further.”

Elegant hands reach out for the teapot. There is no hesitation and the light green liquid trickles into the cup. It’s just enough to fill the cup. The queen stares at the ripples until they disappear.

“Has the council agreed?”

“The council hasn’t opposed His Majesty’s decision.”

“What about Prince Saul?”

Lady Laura avoids looking in the queen’s direction. Light eyes grow hard. Icicles bore into the mistress, sending chills down her spine. The autumn sun has no power over the expanding cold.

“I want to see the written agreement. His Majesty’s seal. The council’s stamp.”

A heartbeat goes by. Deep red lips press together before speaking.

“Does it really make a difference? You know I’m barren. Nothing will happen to His Highness.”

A small laugh escapes the lightly painted lips. It is a melodic laugh, void of happiness or joy. The mistress flinches.

“Lady Laura. Right now, you might have His Majesty’s favour. Right now, you might have important council members wrapped around your finger. But I have been the queen for longer than you will stay in the palace. Bring me the agreement. Then I will honor His Majesty’s gift.”

The queen leans back in her chair; her hands carefully placed on her lap. Lady Laura balls her fists and stares down at her gown. Golden threads delicately decorate expensive silk. The silence grows heavy. Only the mistress’ breathing is audible. With closed eyes the queen’s head turns toward the setting sun.

“Your Majesty, I brought the … biscuits. Your Majesty, are you not feeling well?”

Lady Laura’s head snaps up, and she stares at the lady-in-waiting with the tray of meticulously arranged biscuits in her hands. She catches a quick glance at the tea in the cup. A shadow falls over the gentle face but it’s gone the second the queen opens her eyes.

“It’s fine, Mary. But … I must bother you with another errand. My Lady …”

With a small nod of the head and graceful gesture Mary focuses on her queen’s guest. A light frown appears on the calm face, while the mistress is struggling for words.

“It’s not that difficult, Lady Laura. Mary, I will need you to ask Lord Nessin for an important document.”

The woman’s face ripples, lips are pressed together for a moment, but then the expression is calm again. With a nod she glances towards the small clock on the mantelpiece.

“His Majesty and Lord Nessin are currently in session. If …”

“As it is urgent, you don’t have to fear any repercussions.”

With a flick of the queen’s hand, the lady-in-waiting swiftly moves to the small desk in the corner of the room. With assertive penmanship a message is drafted, sealed and handed over to Mary.

“Leave now, Mary. Make haste, lest my husband’s gift will turn cold.”

Mary opens her mouth, a quick hesitant glance towards the mistress. But with the quiet shake of the queen’s head, she snaps it shut.

“I will return quickly, Your Majesty.”

With the door being closed behind waving skirts the room falls quiet again. Then, a finger taps against the cup. Ripples disturb the surface.

“Knowing when to speak and when to be silent is crucial. I hope you will be able to adapt quickly. His Majesty holds few things higher than his honor.”

“Are you saying I will disgrace His Majesty?”

“I’m giving you advice. Right now, Richard is coddling you. He did so with Lady Iris. He did so as well with Martha.”

“I’m not like them. I was raised to be the queen.”

A dainty biscuit finds its way between pearly teeth. The plate is pushed toward the mistress. She doesn’t acknowledge them.

“Yes, Duke Molton has done his best to prepare you for this role. But you are taking the role in a time of unrest. Anything you do will be scrutinized. There is no room for mistakes. Not even for the tiniest slip.”

“Ha! Don’t tell me, you haven’t made any mistakes. Don’t …”

“We are here now, Lady Laura, aren’t we?”

Crumbs are gracefully brushed off silken skirts. The plate has gone untouched by the other woman. The tea has turned cold.

“I just urge you to be careful. Train. Listen. Obey. Our realm’s safety depends on it. As does your life.”

The knock doesn’t give Lady Laura the chance to counter. Mary enters. Her hands are holding a sealed document roll. A pendant with the royal emblem is dangling from its handle.

“His Majesty is … Your Majesty … just … he said … wait.”

“No, Mary. I want you to leave now. Guard the door. Don’t let anyone in.”

Hands are wrung like wet laundry, but in the palace everyone must obey. Mary leaves, a panicked glance towards the mistress. The brunette’s spirits have returned. Eagerly she follows the queen’s movements as she unrolls the agreement. Light eyes dance over the text. Taking in the king’s seal. Acknowledging the council’s approval. The document is put next to the cup on the table. Resignation meets eager shine.

“My Saul. Treat him with respect. Treat him like your own. Make sure he stays safe.”

Not waiting for a response, the cup is in royal hands. With a fast gulp the cold tea is downed. A small cough. A faint wince. Light eyes close one last time. The simple white cup is placed back on its cushion. Careful fingers pick a biscuit off the plate. The setting sun bathes the room in a deep red.