“You’re Grace! I’m not sure this is a good idea!” Valon stepped quickly to keep pace with his furious lady queen.

“I am your queen, Sir Valon,” she snapped. “All of my ideas are good.” She barely spared him a glance as they exited the great hall and began the long flight of shallow stairs to the castle entrance. Rachelle liked her underground courtroom. The earth was shelter from the fierce woodland heat, and the ceiling rose, as high as the castle was tall, in a glass dome which opened to let air and light into the great hall. But it was not enough. Not enough by far.

“I will sit on the iron throne,” she bit out. “Dala has had it long enough. Is this not a dual kingdom?” She abruptly stopped walking to demand, “Where is Lyla! That fool girl is never around when I want her.”

“I haven’t seen her since I came to you, my Lady,” replied the knight.

The queen snorted. “What a way for the child to behave. Skulking, no doubt.” Waving a common page to her, she commanded him to find the Lady Lyla and bring her to the queen’s chambers. “Sir Valon, I need a retinue of horsemen to accompany me to Queen Dala’s castle in Veros. You shall attend as well. I demand it,” she added, as Valon made to protest.

He wisely closed his mouth, bowed, and strode toward the entrance.

The two guards shoved open the heavy double doors, allowing Sir Valon to exit. He stopped in the barren courtyard and yelled for the stable boy.

“Get Queen Rachelle her riding mare and me my mount”, he commanded. The dusty boy nodded fast, twice, and turned as if to run and do his lord’s bidding.

“Boy.” His voice carried well, and the stable hand stopped immediately. “Get me Sir Bargery as well.”

“At once, Sir!” He jerked another nod and raced off. Valon was left to wonder how he could have handled the queen better. He hadn’t even come to her with news about Queen Dala, yet Dala was the one being blamed.

“If Dala had stomped out the idiot Morish or Loarne, this would have never happened!” she had fumed. “I should be sitting the Iron Throne, not that dimwitted fat usurper Dala.” She had sat quietly, scheming, as Valon had tried to dissuade her from that avenue of thinking. It had done no purpose. Rachelle’s mind was made up.

“We are going to Veros. I will sit on the Iron Throne, and Dala can come here and rule from Castlebury of the Vines. This is a dual queenship – it’s time for a trade-off, I say. Dala has had that throne for seven years, while I – I, the rightful ruler of Tulern – am given the smallest castle, hidden in the backwoods of the forest. That is hardly fair, I say.” She mused a bit longer. “Yes… we are going to Veros.”