Author’s Note: So yesterday I took a day off from posting new bits to the possible serials. I was feeling rather down and fighting writer’s block on all my projects. It was snowing, and it felt like a day to do… nothing. That’s not what I ended up doing, of course.

Anyway, today there’s little trace of the blizzard except the lingering snow, and I turned Three Word Wednesday‘s prompts into something convoluted, but here goes nothing, right?

Detailed information on the whole pick a serial idea here. Three words for today: bask, grief, and raise.

Malzhi sickened her. She could not blame the way she felt on the unbearable heat. Even with the two suns high, the midday hours were not the source of her illness. That belonged to the man beside her. He could not stop smiling, and she knew he had coaxed her here to be with him while he gloated over what he had done. She knew of some creatures that enjoyed lying in the sun, that could bask in it for days at a time it would seem, but he was not like them.

He was basking in the grief. He was perverse enough to take great pleasure in seeing all of them suffer—oh, he pretended at kindness by allowing the cloaked ones time to grieve for their fallen, but there was no sympathy in him. He had forced them to observe their annual day of mourning during the time when both suns were out, leaving them no choice but to wear the heavy cloaks that shielded them from the suns’ rays. He would even laugh when one of them stumbled or fell, about to succumb to the heat, but what made her smile was when they stopped to help each other. They kept the procession moving, their voices never losing their place in the song they sang. Their chorus was haunting, beautiful, and she did not think she would ever forget it.

“Do you have a similar ritual in your land?”

Her people lacked this sense of community, but then they were not the last of their kind in a land full of people that oppressed them. “No.”

“Yet I see their tune has reached you,” Malzhi said, his hand brushing her cheek where an unwelcome tear must have formed. “Do you miss your home?”

She missed her freedom, but that was not an opinion she would give him. “Some things, yes, I miss them. I know very little of this land or its people.”

“If you are lonely, you need only ask. We would see to it that you never have to feel alone,” he told her, his lips diving close to the skin exposed near the neckline of her dress. She stepped back, knowing she was sure to offend him, but even a man of his power had to know who he was talking to and why his behavior was unacceptable.

“I doubt that the king would want that.”

Malzhi’s smile dropped, and he turned back to watch the cloaked ones—she wished her maid would tell her what the name of her people was so that she could give them the respect they should have—continue the procession. “Sometimes I think the king does not see what he has.”

She considered herself fortunate that her husband had no interest in her. She could only imagine the sickness he would exhibit if he were, since in all other aspects he was merciless and cruel. No, she did not want him to notice her. She wished that Malzhi had not. She was not the fairest of her people, not the prettiest daughter, and she had believed that had something to do with the king’s willingness to ignore her. Malzhi must want her because she was supposed to be untouchable. He seemed that sort, though it was strange that his need for what he could not have surpassed his intolerance for foreigners.

“Were you my queen, I would see to it that you lack nothing.”

She laughed. “Malzhi, I do believe I am your queen, unless you would say you are not a servant of the king.”

Malzhi’s lips twisted. “I do not think you are ignorant of what I mean.”

She wasn’t. She hoped to keep it as something that could aid her, but she knew it was dangerous. Not only would the king kill her if he thought she’d given in to Malzhi’s clumsy seduction, but Malzhi would reach a point where he would not allow himself to be rejected again, no matter how polite or reasonable she’d been about it.

“I wish I could fly as they say our ancestors did,” she said, her eyes returning to the mourners below the balcony. “We shed our wings and gave up our freedom, and what have we gained from it?”

“You had wings?”

She looked at him, knowing her words had hit their mark, raising his prejudice to a level of pure disgust. For now, at least, she’d be free of his attentions. He did not want someone he considered polluted by inferior species. The cloaked ones were worms, and she had called herself a bird. He must despise that. “I have always wanted to fly.”

“There is something of the avian to you,” he said, his finger tracing along her brow and down her nose. She watched him, wanting him to give in to his disgust and leave her. “What a pretty little bird you’d make, trapped in a cage.”

She shuddered, but the truth was that she already was one. This castle was the cage, and she might never be free again.

“Do you want to sing their song, my little birdie?”

Her eyes darkened, and she grew tempted to stab him with the blade concealed in her dress. Bagquin. He might not know it, but her heart already sang that song, filled with the same sort of misery as her servants. “Why should I? I do not know the words.”

Malzhi smiled at her. “Some things do not need words.”

She did not want to think about what he meant by that. “Why do you like it so much that I come from the birds when you hate those who come from the ground?”

He laughed. “Do you not know that your kind—birds—eat the worms? So if that is what you are, what a pair we’d make indeed.”

That was a disgusting way of looking at it, but then this was Malzhi, and she should not be surprised by it. “I said I wanted to fly. I never said I had any interest in the worms.”

He did not stop her when she walked away from him. She kept her pace as calm as she could manage, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing that she’d run. She had not thought she’d want the king to come back, but if he did not do so soon, she would suffer at Malzhi’s hands instead.

She shut the door behind her, relieved to be alone. A creak forced her to raise her head, and she blinked in confusion to see a black cloak in the room. “Shouldn’t you be down mourning with the others?”

The servant did not respond, and she did not think this was her maid, for that woman tended to answer her no matter what the question was or how dangerous a thing she asked. The cloak stopped to lower the shade that kept the sun out, and she sighed.

“I didn’t know any of you had been kept behind to see to my needs. If I had, I would have sent you to join the others.”

He—she now thought that the cloak concealed a man and not a woman—poured her water from the pitcher and brought it to her. After her time with Malzhi, this kindness was unexpected and disorienting. She sipped from the cup, letting the cool liquid soothe more than her throat as she did. She was glad to be far from the heat, far from Malzhi and his sickness.

“I lied,” she said, not sure what compelled her to speak. The servant hadn’t been there to hear her. “I do care about the ones he calls worms.”

“I thought you would.”

The voice was familiar, and she wanted to give it a face and a name, but her mind was too confused, and she thought there must have been something in the water because her eyes refused to stay open. “What…”

“Rest, Esibani. You are safe here.”

She wanted to argue, to tell him all about the cage and Malzhi, but she didn’t have the strength. She thought she was being lifted, but she wasn’t sure, and she should be terrified, but she had the strangest feeling that she was flying, and that made her willing to surrender to sleep or whatever else was coming.

To see the other side of this scene, read “The Burden of Survival.” One warning though: that scene has spoilers for the later part of the story.

Author’s Note: So I decided to try Carry on Tuesday‘s prompt this time, for both possible serials again. I would have had a hard time resisting a line from a favorite movie of mine, especially with the decorations we have to go with it, so I didn’t resist.

The prompt was “After all, tomorrow is another day” from Gone with the Wind.

As I mentioned before, this is one of the possible serials that I’m considering keeping on site. People can pick one or both, and if they want more information, they can look here.

“Tomorrow is another day. You may continue to watch the queen and see what she does,” Gekin said, dipping his feet into the pool of water. Anokii would have smiled if she didn’t know that he was doing it to ease his aches. He had been taking too many risks, too many trips. They all knew that their time before the king returned was short, and those who were not distracting him down south were occupied with getting more of their people to safety—or strategic locations—before he turned on their other neighbors. When he went for the queen’s people, they would be ready.

She hoped, at least.

“I know it is another day. I know I must keep watching her, but the more I learn of her, the more I worry that she cannot be trusted at all. She is… frightening.”

Gekin rubbed at the back of his neck, his body betraying all of his aches. He had gone to the border despite his promise to ensure her safety, and Anokii should be angry, but she was not. She did not know how to be, not when he was doing so much for the others. Her life was not so very important—not to anyone but him.

“Do you think that they sent her in to work against the king?”

“I had wondered, but she does not seem quite… sane. She baited Malzhi, and she did not answer his summons. She is not acting as though she has a plan or as though she believes she will live much longer.”

“They could have sent a dying woman on purpose. If they wanted an excuse to provoke a war, they could claim that the king had murdered her, and that would be all they needed. She is only a tool, someone to be manipulated by both sides. You cannot expect her to think that she will live. If the king does not kill her, someone else will. If the king does not kill her immediately, she stands to suffer enough at his hands that she would wish that she was dead.”

Anokii frowned. “You sound as though you pity her.”

“I do not think that I pity her as much as I might have some means of understanding her position. I have never spoken to her, though I did travel with their party for part of the way. I did not think her all that interesting—she did not speak in my presence, though I was told that she conversed with Agache at one point.”

“She spoke to Agache?”

Gekin nodded. “Does that surprise you so much? He was her companion for most of the journey, and the only one who would dared to have spoken to a future queen. She had either her servants—all of whom were dismissed when she reached the castle—and him.”

“Then perhaps that is what she meant by regrets.”

“What regrets?”

“The queen must be aware that the king used her to justify his imprisonment of Agache. I do not know why he chose not to execute him publicly—that is what he would have wanted, a way to demoralize us all.”

Gekin snorted. “Killing Agache did not demoralize us. It gave us more reason to fight against him. Agache is now a martyr, and many who would not fight or act against the king before are willing to do so. They know they have no one to appeal to, not without him. Now we do more. We fight harder. We are more unified. It is far from what he would have wanted when he killed his cousin.”

Anokii nodded. “True. That much good, at least, has come out of his death. Not that his death should be considered good, but we did not let it stop us.”

“We could never let it stop us. We must keep going. There is no other choice. Our people will die out if we do not. Already we have seen this place steal most of our children, if any are able to have them, and we as a species will die. If only we had never chosen to live above ground. The earth would have protected us, and those like the king would not have coveted our riches. We would have seemed to have none.”

“I wish that we could go back to living only at night. This heat is a slow death for us all.”

“We will find a way to have our lives back. Our kind craves the moonlight. We are meant to be of the night and the darkness. That is why we have no color of our own,” Gekin said, touching her cheek. “I remember our first moments in the dark. You glowed in a way that I had never seen before and have never seen again.”

“I have always hated how that cave-in cost us our favorite place. These catacombs do not go deep enough to allow us to have our phosphorescence, and I have never seen you more handsome than you were in the darkness.”

He smiled. “Soon, ninaimant. Soon.”

“I must return to the castle now.”

“Stay with me. The queen will not need you until morning, but I… I need you now.”

Anokii nodded. She could not refuse him. She had never refused him anything in all her life, and she would not start this late in it. “Come. I know of a darker place than this.”

Author’s Note: So I could not help dwelling a bit on the word for Sunday Scribblings, sharp, when it came to both of my possible serials. I thought it fit rather well with each of them, but perhaps more so with this one, given what I’d already established for the queen.

Since the website’s remodel is not yet complete, there’s still time for people to pick one or both of these serials as a permanent one on the site. There’s more information here.

Blades should be sharp, and her responsibility was to keep hers that way.

She slipped it out of her dress, turning it over in her hands. She knew what this blade was meant to do—only a fool would think that it was the sort of knife with an innocent purpose. She was no fool. She had been taught to use this and many others like it, some of them designed for combat, and those she preferred over this one.

She would rather face an opponent outright than go for an assassination. She laughed, shaking her head as she stabbed the tip into her desk, twisting it down into the wood. She had no right to deceive herself. She preferred the steps of sword work, not the idea of using it against anyone. She could count them out, could think about balance and where to place her feet, not what she was supposed to be doing—injuring or killing her opponent.

Footwork gave the deadly arts a beauty that their purpose betrayed. She liked the grace and dexterity required by the movements, the way they made her feel as though she could fly. She was not skilled enough to do such a thing—no one was—but she had long envied the freedom of the avian world. They could go places that she did not, could see so much further than she did. Their world was wide and beautiful.

Hers was narrow and full of darkness.

That almost made her laugh again, since even now she could see the light from the sun underneath her curtain. She did not think that there were birds here, not in this land. She did not think they could fly in the heat of the dual suns.

That heat would kill them all someday, if the king didn’t manage it first.

She glanced toward the knife, her eyes going up and down the blade, trying to picture it used as intended, and she shook her head, turning away. She still lacked that strength, though she had to wonder if being able to kill was truly a strength and not a weakness.

Her trainers would disagree, and those who were counting upon her for the continued survival of her people would be of the same opinion as them. They would all expect her to act. That was why she had been sent here. The treaty was an excuse, the alliance false on both sides.

She walked toward the mirror, studying her face for a moment. She’d been born to a role, trained and refined for it, and when she was younger, she had thought it one that was admirable and good. When she trained for defense, it was.

Them telling her to become an assassin, something that she had never been before, that was where it all came unraveled, like the poorly made blanket that proved her lack of talent for knitting. She was meant for sharper blades, her trainer had said, and she’d laughed.

She did not find it amusing now. If she was meant for such a role, then why was what she needed to do so hard to accept? Why was she not eager to do so? She knew the sort of man her husband was—she had escaped his cruelties so far, but there was no way to be certain that would last—and she knew what he did to the peoples that he conquered, forcing those like her maidservant to live in this place with its impossible heat that would burn them alive if they ever showed their skin. They were not the only ones oppressed, but they were the most obvious victims.

Her people could suffer worse if she did not act.

She closed her eyes, her feet starting the steps of that old familiar dance. She did not have to think, her body remembered every part without faltering. She found herself humming as she sometimes did, a tune that she had never heard but always came to her when she began the steps.

She paused, her ears attuned to the subtle shift in the room even as she continued to hum. She let her steps carry her closer to the desk. There, she took the blade from the wood, incorporating it into her movements until she was certain of the direction, and then she let it fly.

The dagger hit the wall, and she grimaced. Perhaps she was too paranoid. Wait, no, there was something caught near the tip. She crossed toward it, yanking it out to see the familiar black fabric of the servants’ cloaks caught in it.

Was one of them watching her, then? She did not know if she was fortunate to have such keen instincts—or cursed. She might have given everything away with her last act, and she could not afford to have them all know that she was not what she seemed.

Being the queen would not save her, not if any of them knew what she truly was.

To see the other side of this scene, read “A Hidden Dance.” One warning though: that scene has spoilers for the later part of the story.

Author’s Note: I almost had another meeting with Anokii and Gekin, but I thought it would be interesting to have this exchange between the queen and the maid, one where neither is quite as honest as they should be.

Still time to pick this as the serial that stays. Details here.

“My lady, Malzhi sends word that he wishes to speak to you.”

Anokii saw the queen shudder, making her wonder about that earlier exchange with the minister. Some of the man’s actions had seemed quite forward, and while she had not known what the queen thought of them, now she thought she did. They were unwanted, perhaps even frightening to the other woman, especially given the isolation and danger of her position.

She did not envy the queen. She might have been mistreated. Her people were not supposed to marry—hers was against the law and could result in their death—but she’d never faced unwanted attention from any of them, since they did not consider her kind at all attractive.

She did not think the queen was that pretty, either, but Malzhi did not have to desire her because she was pretty, only because she was the queen.

“Please tell him I am still unwell.”

Anokii frowned. She had thought perhaps the queen was smarter than she had first seemed, but this would not do. She could not be so disrespectful, not even as the wife of the king. Malzhi must be obeyed by all. It was one thing to defy him to free people kept as slaves or about to be executed, but for the queen to do it simply because she did not like the man—no. She needed a better reason than that if she was going to make a decision like this. “That is not wise.”

“Nothing is, not in my position, but I do as I must.”

“What you must do is answer his summons. He can have you killed. His power is second only to the king’s and he is not a man you want as an enemy.” Anokii shook her head, aware she had failed to impress upon the queen the true nature of her circumstances. “He had another minister imprisoned today. No one knows why.”

The queen laughed. That was the sort of noise Anokii expected from the king, so cruel and bitter as it was. “I might.”

The words gave Anokii an uneasy feeling. She did not like this at all. She thought the queen could be quite frightening when she wanted to be. “What have you done?”

Pausing in the doorway, the queen looked back at her, an expression on her face that Anokii could not decipher. “I could say you have no right to ask me that.”

“No, I do not,” Anokii said, wary. Who was this woman that they had gotten for a queen? What schemes was she creating? How heartless was she?

The queen turned away, shedding as much of her garments as she could while she walked. “Tell me, what would you do for your people? Would you lie? Would you kill? Would you maneuver others that might kill?”

“Is that what you have done? Maneuvered others? Maneuvered Malzhi?” Anokii did not think the queen had any idea the dangerous sort of games she might be playing—or perhaps she did not care. “He will not tolerate being tricked. He will kill you.”

“Yes, I do think he would. Nevertheless, I have made my decision. Tell him I am unwell. I do not want to see him or anyone else.”

“This is a decision that you will regret.”

The queen leaned against the bedpost, closing her eyes. “I have regretted much of these past few months. What is one more poor choice?”

“It could be your last.”

The queen nodded. “Everything can be the last. That is the nature of life.”

Strange. That was a sentiment that Anokii would have expected one of her people to voice, not the queen. Had not the woman lived in relative freedom until her marriage? This place had changed her, soured her very quickly, a poison that ruined all the good to be had. “You sound as though you have lived your whole life here, not a few months only.”

“You know nothing of my life before I came here. I doubt any of you knows my name.”

“You are the queen. It is not for us to call you by name.”

The other woman laughed in that same cruel manner, and Anokii withdrew, not wanting to be alone with her any longer.

Author’s Note: This story has some interesting bits of intrigue, not something I’m used to doing, but it’s been an interesting experiment so far. 🙂

This is still part of the pick a serial (yes, you can pick both, details here,) so leave a comment in some way if you want more.

The queen watched the court, her eyes wary. The maidservant had returned with the information that she’d requested last night, but as she lay awake, watching the hideous glare of the sun that never set peek through the curtains, she had debated whether or not she could trust it.

If she had been the king, she would have ensured that only servants loyal to him attended her. She would have given herself no one to trust. So far she lived, and her maidservant had not betrayed her, but would that last if the king returned? What if she was as good as dead then?

She would act before he came back. She had no choice. Better to have died in the attempt than held back in fear for the rest of her already limited days. If the king learned of her treason, he would kill her, and he might well do it without knowing.

No, she must do something now, while she could, while she was almost free.

So she watched. She waited. The ministers’ behavior seemed to match what she’d been told. The ones loyal out of fear scattered when she drew close, and those loyal for the sake of their own cruelty or ambition would glare at her. It was no guarantee of their intention, nor was it proof, but she thought she was seeing some patterns to them, a possible way of determining their course.

She did not know what she would do about it. She had hoped to pit someone against one of his rivals, but she knew too little of these people to manage it.

“What are you thinking?”

“Me?” She turned to face the minister who had been left in charge when her husband had gone south to quell what might have been a border skirmish. She knew so little of the facts—she had to ask her maidservant about more of this land’s history—and she could not say how important the matter was. The king was said to crush any who opposed him, so why his neighbors would squabble with him was hard to say. Her own people had forged a desperate alliance, hoping to keep him out of their land for just a little bit longer.

Long enough for her to kill him.

“You,” Malzhi said, his lips curving into a twisted sort of smile as his hand reached out to brush back a loose hair. “I should think you have been very bored with the king away. No one… occupies you or gives you any sort of attention as is due your position.”

She stepped to the side, evading his hand when it made to come toward her again. “Oh, I suppose I have my amusements. You have some strange customs here.”

“Do we?”

“Yes,” she said, slipping her fan free of her sleeve. Snapping it open, she began to spread the air around her, hoping it would keep away the stench of his breath. She swore he only ever ate meat—and he did so in a state as raw as possible so as to leave stains upon his teeth, ones that were all sharp as daggers. “Despite this unholy heat, you all seem determined to spend your days in the sun.”

He gave the servants a glance. “We are not like those who crept from the depth. We are those who bend the land to our will. Those from the bottom should stay there.”

“Is that where they came from? That is why they cannot abide the sun?”

“They are like worms, and someday they will return to that state.”

“Are all like worms to you?”

He laughed. “No, of course not. Some are more like… fruit. Rich, succulent, plump and ready for the taking.”

She had the unpleasant feeling that he spoke of her, and she was tempted to draw on her knife, but she did not want to expose herself that way. She could not show them what she was capable of, not unless she was putting that blade into the king and ending all of this nightmare.

“I should think any fruit would spoil in this heat,” she said, shaking her head. She looked over at one of the other ministers, one that she’d been told was ambitious, wondering if that information was true. Malzhi might do what she wanted without knowing he was being manipulated. His thoughts were far removed from intrigue, and she did not think he thought her capable of it.

“If you mean yourself, I assure you it is not true. You are as fresh as the day you came to us.”

“I doubt that certain parties would agree.” She gave the other minister a dark look. He gave her a wry smile in return, looking rather smug. He should not have been, not then. She snapped her fan shut and turned away. “Excuse me, Malzhi. I do not feel well. This heat…”

“Of course, my lady. I shall have a servant help you back to your room. Worry not, for I will handle all that must be taken care of. I am quite capable of seeing to the needs of the kingdom… and its queen.”

Author’s Note: So the characters decided to share some names with me for a change. I was pleasantly surprised. Also, I enjoy these conversations between the two rebels a lot. 🙂

Again, this is part of the pick a serial (yes, you can pick both, details here,) so leave a comment in some way if you want more.

“I may have underestimated the queen.”

“Oh?”

Removing her cloak, Anokii set it down upon the rocks, welcoming the cool air of the catacombs. She had wanted nothing more but to run to the freedom of the depths, and that was the sort of childish longing that she thought she was long past. “She asked me which of the ministers were loyal to the king and which of them served him out of fear.”

“You think she plans a coup of her own?”

“It is possible. She has no reason to be loyal to him, after all.”

Gekin moved to the rock, lowering himself onto it with a bit of a groan. He would be too old to guide their people to safety, too old to make the journey. Anokii would worry over him more and more until he accepted that. “There is the treaty.”

“A treaty we all know is a farce? She has said as much before, and her people must know it as well. Perhaps they expect her to work here as they work elsewhere.”

“A war from two sides is one the king would not be likely to win. I would like it, if I knew that we could trust her people or her, but we do not. She might be what we need, or she might be our downfall. I do not think that it would be wise to do anything until we are sure.”

Anokii reached up to let her hair fall free, wishing she had the time to soak in a long bath. Cool water sounded very good when she thought about it, but she never had the time to indulge such things, nor could she with her duties. She was supposed to be back to help the queen undress for the night. Those court dresses of hers were impossible for one person to manage on their own, a foolish thing only the royals could allow themselves to do.

“What are you thinking?” She studied her husband, wishing she knew more of the way his mind worked. He had so many thoughts locked away behind his eyes, and she could never know them all, not unless he looked at her with love and she knew exactly what was on his mind. “I suppose the decision must be made by our leaders.”

“How much we cooperate with her, yes. That is not for you or me to decide, so I must go to them and tell them what we know and what we might be able to do. Still, without some kind of test, this seems a foolish task.”

“It is a dangerous journey to make without any kind of certainty, since it will take you longer to reach where they have secreted themselves than it does for you to reach the borders. You would like to test her first?”

“Give her what she wants.”

“Gekin—”

“I will be waiting to take you away if she makes any sort of move against you. I will not let any harm come to you, my ninaimant, I swear it,” he said, rising to come to her side. He put his hands on her face and kissed her forehead. “We must see what the queen will do.”

“She may do nothing.”

“Then she does nothing.”

Anokii lowered her head. “We have been reckless, I think. I have—I called you by your name, and I have not done that in many years. I have thought of myself by the name I had thought forgotten. We are taking too many risks.”

He shook his head. “Perhaps this means that it is truly close to the end. We may have the freedom we have been denied for centuries.”

She turned away, reaching for her cloak to pull it back over her. “I fear we are fooling ourselves.”

“We may be, but what is life without hope?”

“Worse than life without love.”

He caught her, wrapping his arms around her. “Do not doubt that you have love. Never doubt that. I have loved you many years, and I will love you many more. If my life leaves my body, my love will never leave you. Just remember me as I have always been—a fool devoted to you.”

She laughed. “I am the same.”

“Come back after you have helped the queen. I will wait for you. As always.”

Author’s Note: So, it’s Wednesday, and I figured I’d work the words from Three Word Wednesday into both of my potential serials. This is the fantasy one, starts with “Resigned to Their Fate.”

The details of what I mean by potential serials are here. If you want to see more of either, just let me know.

This week’s words: argue, lick, and squint.

“The king is still gone?”

“Yes, my lady. He has yet to return from the south.”

The implication that they would all be better off if he did not return hung in the air, but even in the man’s absence, they would not speak it. The queen turned away from her balcony, withdrawing into her chamber. She spent most of her time on the balcony, using it for what limited freedom she gained, but the second sun would rise, and even she could not abide its relentless heat.

She squinted, trying to adjust her eyes to the dimmer light of her room, and she stumbled, almost toppling over a stray shoe. “How did that get there?”

“Must have been the bizhat, my lady. It is fond of the laces on footwear.”

Grimacing, she looked around, trying to find her maidservant in this darkness, not able to do so because of the cloak the other woman always wore. “The what?”

“Forgive me. The feline,” the servant said, and now the queen knew where she was—picking up the shoe. She had bumped the bottom of the queen’s dress as she did. “I had forgotten you know nothing of our language. Not that we are supposed to speak it, but most know enough to know when we falter.”

The queen frowned. She wished she could see under the other woman’s cloak. She hated feeling so isolated, and it didn’t help that all her servants were among those with the skin too pale to see the sun without burning. She would like to see a face every now and then, not just figures in cloaks shuffling about in near constant silence. She had a feeling her nightmares would soon contain them—armies of them coming for her for her failure to alleviate the suffering the king inflicted upon all of them.

She shook her head. She would not be helpless forever. She would find some way of altering this place, even if she died in the attempt. “What is your language?”

“You should not ask me to speak of these things.”

“The king is not here, and we both know he will kill me as soon as he feels he can invade my homeland. Why should I not ask questions while I can? My ignorance serves no one.”

The cloaked head shook, disagreeing with her. “It is how he should prefer it.”

The queen sighed. She did not want to argue, but she was not a child. She needed more information. The king had never intended for her to rule in his stead- that task had been taken by one of his loyal and ruthless ministers. She had to find some way of wresting control from them or manipulating the world around her. If the king was not here, then something could and must be done.

“Tell me this much—if all of you are oppressed, how is it that one of you was a minister? That he could negotiate the treaty with my land?”

The servant lowered her head. “When the king’s ancestor invaded our land, he did so after bargaining with ours. One of our ladies became his queen and bore him many children before he dishonored the alliance. His eldest son got the throne, but they were also of the royal line. The man you speak of was one of their descendants. He could not be made a servant as the rest of us are.”

The queen wanted to curse. She had not known that, and now she hated even more that she had lost him as a potential ally. “He was… in line for the throne?”

“Perhaps. Not that the king would allow such a thing.”

The king would not allow a great many things, that the queen already knew. Still, if he had wanted to eliminate that other part of the royal line… She licked her lips, fighting against the dryness of her mouth as she realized what was happening now, what he was doing with her. “He must mean to kill all of my people.”

The cloak stilled. “Why would you say that?”

“He pays me no attention. He does not even take what is his by right. He must not want to risk an heir from my blood. He must intend that we all die when he comes for us.”

The other woman nodded. “You may be correct in thinking so. It would explain some of his behavior since your arrival and even before then.”

She did not think that her servant would tell her what she meant by that. She was a strange one, and their exchanges always puzzled the queen for one reason or another. “Can you tell me which of the ministers are loyal to him and which obey out of fear?”

“Why would you ask such a thing?”

The queen thought of the blade she kept, the one waiting for the king. Those loyal to him must be eliminated as well. She had to find a way to do that, by whatever means she might achieve it. The atmosphere of fear might be useful, their paranoia could be turned against them, and she could keep her hands clean.

“My lady, the look on your face now could rival the king at his worst.”

“Could it?” She almost laughed. She would need some of his ruthlessness if she was going to overcome him and those loyal to him, if she was going to protect her people and those he’d already hurt. “Perhaps that is for the best.”

Author’s Note: I will continue to post little bits of these two possible serials, though it looks at this point like they might both end up on the site.

We’ll see. I haven’t gotten a lot of response to the question of which one people want to see. I’ve got a whole explanation for the voting thing elsewhere on the site, but in the mean time, here’s more fic to help with the decision.

If all that seems confusing, I did try to explain what I’m up to here.

The water dripping off the ceiling had a sort of rhythm to it, at first annoying but now a part of their lives, familiar and even comforting. Down in the catacombs, their people had their only real freedom, and she knew that she would stay there always if she had only the chance. Reaching up, she removed her cloak and set it aside. She put her hand up to catch some water in her palm, smiling as she did. This place made her feel playful, and she had never known that as a child. Now was not the time for it—and yet, it seemed to be.

Hope had come after so long of oppression, a relief from the heat and burden of their people. She could believe that they would have some success, a thing she’d not dared to do before, and she wanted to think that they could do more than send a few fortunate refugees to the land of the new queen. She did not know if it would be possible. The revolution seemed to be gaining strength, but that illusion had fooled them before, and they had suffered instead.

“It is good to see you smiling.”

She turned, extending her hand to the man who had long since taken her heart. Back when they were both young and foolish, they had chosen to defy the edicts and marry, one of few who managed to do so without losing their heads for it. “You are late.”

“We have been busy.”

She nodded. “It is good work you do, and I should not begrudge it, even if it takes away from the few stolen moments that we have.”

His lips pressed against her cheek, lingering for some time before he leaned back and spoke. “There is momentum now that we never had before. I do not know that we will sustain it, but we have freed more of our people than ever before. We must continue to do so while there is yet time.”

She studied her hands, so pale after all the years of hiding, never being able to spend even the safe parts of the day in the sun. “Our efforts in the south are failing?”

“I do not know. That is not my part, and you know it. You have yours, doing your duty to the court and gathering what information you might, and I move our people across the border when we can.” He looked at her, shaking his head as he did. “Listen to me. I don’t know why I’m telling you things that you already know. Are we that old? Has that happened already?”

She laughed, wrapping her arms him and letting herself indulge in his proximity for a moment. “It happened a long time ago, but we were too stubborn to admit it.”

He combed his fingers through her colorless hair, and she reached up to catch his hand. So many moments like this turned into frantic ones needing further intimacy, but she did not think they could spoil themselves with such luxury today.

“What is it?”

She withdrew, walking away from him. She stood in the archway, letting the cooler air meet all of her exposed skin. She closed her eyes and waited until his hands were on her shoulders. “Should I be arranging to send you out of the country? I had thought we’d gotten too old for that, but if you carry with you another, then this time I insist on sending you away. We will not risk it again.”

“I do believe you were correct in thinking that I am too old for such a thing,” she said, though the twin suns made it hard for any of them to know what was right or wrong with their own bodies. Either they were overheated or they were burning, and they had so little opportunity for rest with their schedules and duties, sacrificing even more of it for clandestine meetings of this and other sorts. “I do regret not sending those closest to us with you, but I have no one to send now.”

“In some ways, the loss of the king’s younger cousin has made us even… stronger,” her husband said, his hand going to her stomach. “Not that it is the way any of us would have wanted it to be. He had always given us as much as he could. He was hope, and he took so many of our people to freedom during those negotiations…”

“I think it was close to thirty in a single trip, thanks to those sympathetic to our cause,” she said. Her heart still ached when she remembered the way he’d struggled when he was taken away. He was always so careful, so precise, never defying the king in a way that could be detected, but somehow he’d failed. “It should not have been his last act.”

“The king wanted an excuse to kill him, and he made the queen that reason.”

“The queen may be of use to us.”

“You think so? She has been quiet thus far.”

“She offered her land as shelter for her people.”

“You believe she was sincere?”

“She admitted she could make no guarantees for our safety, and she did not speak of it until she knew that the king was gone. She could be sincere, but I think she must be tested first.”

“I will tell the others. You must get back.” He turned her around to face him. “I long for the days when we are free to be together always, not just in these stolen respites.”

“You know that is all I want. I should say that I want the liberation of our people, but I have always wanted you more.”

He smiled at her. “Zagaime. Forever and always.”

“Zagaime.”

He kissed her, and she watched him go, unwilling to let the tears burn her eyes. She picked up her cloak and wrapped it around her, forcing her arms through the sleeves. She closed her eyes, wishing she had any kind of guarantee of his return. She did not want to lose anyone else she loved.

Author’s Note: A bit more of the possible fantasy serial to help in the decision making process.

“Has the king sent for me?”

“No, my lady, he has not.”

She did not look back at the servant behind her, knowing to do so was a cruelty in this place. Any undue attention to any of the staff led to some horrible sort of punishment if the king was to become aware of it. She could not treat any of them as she would have in her native land, not as was decent and fit—never as any sort of companion or ally. She was not allowed friends or confidants, not among the servants or the other members of the court.

If any of them were thought to be working with her, he made sure they disappeared, starting with the man that escorted her from her land to the king. She winced, still troubled by the guilt she felt regarding his death. She had not seen him since the day that he introduced her to the king, and when the king had failed to approve of her, he’d turned that hostility on his adviser.

She remained somewhat immune to the man’s cruelties due to her awkward position in this court. Though she knew that her husband wanted her dead, he would not move against her until he was ready to betray her nation. Until then, she had the protection of the treaty, of the fact that any crime against her would mean war with her homeland.

That protection would not last. She knew that she must act before then, that she could not afford to delay, not for a moment. Though for now she remained free and unharmed—her husband hated her so much as to scorn their marriage bed and did not bother with forcing that upon her—she knew that her freedom was fleeting. Soon she would not be able to do anything—if she was even alive.

She took a deep breath, seeking the calm her instructors had always told her to maintain, but they were not here, they did not have this constant threat weighing upon them. She had always thought that the regalia demanded by life at court was weight enough, but this was worse.

She leaned against the railing, wishing she had a means of contacting anyone outside the castle. She had some contact with the commoners who made petitions, more with the court, but to speak to them for more than a moment or two was to endanger them. She could give nothing more than platitudes to the commoners and pleasantries to the court members.

“The king has gone south to oversee the border fortifications.”

She turned, looking back at her maid. Though the woman had served her since she arrived at the castle, she had never seen her face. Another member of the pale skinned race, she did not remove the cloak she wore even inside the castle. With as many areas open to allow the light in, it was safer for them to remain cloaked at all times instead of risking the clouds clearing or suns shifting and burning them. She could not envy them that, nor would they envy her the robes of her station.

“I was told that war was over.”

“No war is ever over with him.”

“I suppose you know that better than most.”

The hood nodded. “My people have felt his continued wrath since he conquered us and took ours captive generations ago. Yours will face the same when he feels he has the advantage. It is how it has always been with his line. They know nothing but conquering and oppression.”

“My land does not lie under the heat of the twin suns,” she said, looking at the hood, not sure she dared continue this conversation. She would, if only because she suspected the servant had found boldness for the same reason that she had—the king was gone. “If your people could leave here, settle there, you would not have to fear burning.”

“You offer us haven?”

“I admit I am in no position to guarantee it, not now.”

The woman in the cloak laughed as she walked away. The queen turned back to the balcony, looking down at the courtyard. She was useless here, and she felt it now more than ever. She had thought that it was before, when she was assigned to this task, but no, it was now.

Her part in the negotiations had been one of absentia, one where she was not present when her role was decided and her fate decreed. She had not needed to be, for she had always understood her place and what she would become. She knew what must be done, and she had been trained to do it.

She had hoped that she could use her position as queen, her influence, to manipulate things in a subtle way that would aid her cause without the king being aware of what she’d done. Months had passed since the treaty, since the wedding, and she had yet to achieve anything. She knew what was expected of her, what she must do, but she feared she lacked sufficient strength to do it.

She removed the blade hidden in her dress, turning it over in her hand and wondering at her distorted reflection. The king was a cruel man, and everyone would benefit if he were to die.

They wanted her to use this blade. They needed her to use it.

Still, she did not think she could.

Author’s Note: So I am toying with the idea of doing a fantasy serial. I’ve also got other ideas, but let’s see how this works. Here’s a bit of the prologue, then, as a teaser.

If you think this should be a serial on the site, let me know whichever way you prefer (comment, social media, etc.)

“Is the king a good man?”

He looked over at her, knowing what he should say. He owed fidelity to the king, he was not to speak ill of the man, and his obligation dictated only one response. She was to hear what she needed to hear: that the man was a good ruler, the most benevolent that any had ever known, that her parents had made the right choice in allying their kingdom with his.

After her silence for the first two days of their journey, he found himself speaking with surprising honesty. “No.”

She nodded, pushing her cloak’s hood off her head. He’d noticed her fighting with it from the morning on—the twin suns were bearing down on them, and she must be overheated. He had suggested stopping until the better part of the day for traveling, when the one sun had set, but she had shook her head. He wondered if she felt delaying would make it so that she might fail to uphold her part of the treaty.

She paused, shaking her dark curls loose. She closed her eyes for a moment, and he hesitated. Was this some part of her faith, perhaps? He did not know much about their new allies, though he’d thought them preferable to the alternative.

The king liked them because they would be easier to betray.

“Why do you serve him if he is not?”

He looked over at her. This sudden boldness was not something that pleased him. He did think she was considering running or refusing, and the consequences of that would be brutal for her people. His king would not tolerate such an insult. “Why are you here?”

She reached up and removed the cloak, passing it to her servant. “For my people. There is no alternative. I must do this.”

“Yes.”

“So that is why you serve him? For your people?”

He could say that he stood between the commoners and the king’s wrath more often than not, but he would not make such a claim. “If you wish to stop until the sun sets, that will allow you to cope better with the heat.”

“How do your people do it?” She gestured to his cloak. “Is that not making you feel as though you are being cooked?”

“We will burn in the sun,” he said, letting his hand come out of his sleeve. He did not wait long—the pale color shifted to red—and he pulled it back.

She shook her head. “I do not understand why anyone would fight over this land, then. You should have abandoned it years ago.”

He could not argue with her sentiment. He followed after her as she resumed their journey. “Not all of us have this affliction.”

“Your king wouldn’t let those of you that do leave, though.”

He frowned. “You… You are not what they said, are you?”

“I was raised as a leader, taught to rule a kingdom. What did you expect? A meek, uneducated sacrifice?”

“It would, I fear, be better for you if you were one.”

“Well? Where is she?”

“She comes,” he told the king, wishing that he had been granted the same luxury—enough time as to be able to remove his soiled garments, bathe himself, and appear as a member of court should—but he did not. He was not in the same position, though hers would fall as soon as she married the brute. That was an unfortunate fact. “She was to be made fit for you.”

The king snorted. “No woman is deserving of my attention. If not for tradition, this treaty would never have happened.”

“Of course not.”

“You could not arrange it any other way?”

He closed his eyes. “They wanted some kind of guarantee of your sincerity. That, it would seem, is only possible with such an exchange.”

“So you claim.”

“You doubt my word?”

The king grabbed his hand, crushing it through the fabric of his sleeve. He should not have asked, not when his skin was raw from that moment in the suns, and he would not be able to free himself before the bone shattered if that was the king’s intent. He let go, shoving him away. “You have been away for too long. You have forgotten what you are.”

“I have been traveling for too long, and we did not rest in the dual sun. I—”

“Silence.”

He nodded, putting his head down and waiting for the future queen to arrive. Once the king had seen her, he would be able to leave. That was what he must remember. He had forgotten what court was like, and he did not know why he had, but he should not have been so foolish.

The heavy double doors opened, and the servants led the woman in, her regalia fit to rival anyone who might have entertained notions of being the queen. That must have been hidden away in her things, since he knew she had traveled in garments far plainer than this. If she intended to impress the king, she would fail—the man was never impressed—but she might have the court’s opinion in her favor.

The king stepped down from the throne level, walking toward her. He walked around, studying each stitch in her dress, and then he shook his head as he did. “Disappointing.”

She met his gaze, defiant, and the king might have hit her if she’d continued to do so. He would have warned her again, but he could not. He rose, rubbing at his sore wrist as he knew what must follow the king’s decision.

“You are not worth it,” the king said, and the woman frowned. “Where is the rest of what I was promised?”

“It could hardly come as fast as we did,” she told him. “If you are patient, then you could have all you wanted.”

The king gave her a scornful look. “I do not want you. Leave my sight.”

She bowed her head, turning to leave, and the king watched her, his gaze cold. He moved, his stride angry as he ascended the few steps to his throne. “You are plotting against me. This is a trick of yours, isn’t it?”

“No.”

“It is pathetic,” the king said, and he swallowed, knowing the words to come. “Guards, take him away.”

Though he knew that he could not win, he struggled as they came to take him, knowing that he would be fortunate if his fate was execution. A slow death in the heat of the twin suns was not much to hope for, but he would hope for it nonetheless.