Page 65 of The Curse of the Goddess

“What is it?” Valda asked.

“Um, my coffee is cold,” Maris lied, crossing her legs under the table.

“You can have mine,” Valda said, licking the corner of her lip and savoring the last drops of strawberry juice.

“I’m fine, I’ll just have some oatmeal,” Maris replied, nodding as she reached for a bowl.

“I need to ask you a favor. Go to the guards at the door and tell them I’m calling a meeting with General Arwin,” Valda said, suddenly remembering something. “Wait, what week are we in?”

“Third day of Stellaris,” Maris answered.

Valda leaned back, sighing. “Today we have an audience.” She rubbed her temples. “Can you go and tell the guard to deliver the message?”

Maris nodded. “Yes, of course. Anything else?”

“You’re coming with me to the audience and the meeting,” Valda said firmly.

“Wait, you want me at the meetings starting...now? Aren’t you going to wait a bit?” Maris asked nervously.

“No,” Valda said, sitting up straight and wiping her lower lip with her hand before turning to face Maris. “I want you by my side. I need you to take notes on the discussion with the general and pay close attention to his body language.”

A nervous chill ran down her spine at the thought of being near General Arwin. She paused for a moment, massaging the tension from the back of her neck before speaking again. “Valda,” she said, using the queen’s name without any teasing this time. “That man doesn’t seem to be fond of me. I don’t think having me in the throne room during such an important and private meeting is going to make him like me any more.”

“I don’t care about General Arwin’s feelings,” Valda said, her jaw tense. “I need to hear what he knows about my mother’s murder and what’s happening in my kingdom in detail. If he’s uncomfortable with your presence, that’s his problem.”

Maris knew that arguing would be futile. Valda was the queen, and her orders were to be followed. She would have to push aside her plan to get the general alone and fulfill her responsibilities as Valda’s personal assistant, a role she didn’t have as a maid.

Taking a deep breath, Maris made a quick decision to comply with Valda’s order for now. “All right,” she conceded, pushing her chair back and standing up. “I’ll inform the guards and deliver the message.”

***

The moment Maris entered the throne room, her stomach clenched withing itself. A cold shiver ran down her spine as tension formed in the back of her neck. She had hoped that as the years went on, her fear of being around so many people would slowly dissipate, but it didn’t. Even after her parent's death, Maris carried their anxiety as they stepped in a place filled with people.

Swallowing hard, she willed her nervousness down her throat, forcing it away for now in order to take in what was about to happen.

Maris had never witnessed or been part of an audience. She wasn’t surprised to see the throne room filled with people awaiting their turn to talk with Valda. The air was so thick with anticipation and nervousness it was almost palpable.

The courtiers and officials, dressed in their finest attire, shifted in their seats or paced back and forth as they awaited their turn. Many of them seemed apprehensive, unsure of how to approach the queen. They exchanged cautious glances and spoke in hushed tones, mindful of their words and actions.

Some of the courtiers averted their gazes or lowered their heads as Valda passed by, while others tried to catch her attention with careful bows and respectful greetings. There was an unspoken sense of unease, as people tried to gauge Valda’s mood and disposition. However, Maris didn’t feel the tension in Valda. The hand upon her shoulder never tensed. Instead, the queen’s thumb rubbed soft affectionate circles, sending a jolt through Maris. Such a soft touch could make her feel so much. It was… thrilling.

Valda took her seat on the throne, her expression composed and regal, her eyes closed as her grip on the armrest tightened. Maris stood nearby, attentive and ready to take notes as instructed. The courtiers approached Valda one by one, making their requests or presenting their concerns. Some stumbled over their words or fumbled with their papers, while others spoke with measured precision, trying to strike the right tone.

Everything was running accordingly, until Maris noticed a woman walking towards them. The first thing she noticed was the dark blue hair on top of her head. Her hair was cut short, shaved close to the scalp on the side. Maris had never met, or exchanged words with another Sealian, seeing one so up close was exciting, and new.

Maris focused on the woman. She didn’t appear to be older than forty. She appeared to stand at a similar height to Maris, boasting thick arms and legs, a broad back, and distinct curves. She wore dark pants, and a purple tunic that reached the middle of her thigh. Her clothing was different from what Maris had seen, still she found the outfit and the woman before her beautiful. Her brow was tense, her hands curled into fist by her side. Unlike the others, this woman was alone.

“What is she doing here again?” Maris heard someone from the audience ask, shaking their head in disapproval as the other Sealian stood before the dais.

Again? The woman had been here before?

“I am Eyphah Hurley. A Sealian from New Agenor,” the woman announced. “I come to ask the crown for leniency…” She turned to the group of men that had been whispering. “Again.” She snarled and faced Valda again. “My people are suffering. We need a fucking break.”

Surprised by her boldness, Maris’s couldn’t look away as Eyphah continued.

“Our taxes are the highest in the entire kingdom. We have nothing left to buy food and construction materials for our homes. Not to mention, when we do have enough, your Skylian vendors sell us everything for twice the price. How are we supposed to move on from our tragedy, when everything is working against us?”

Moving uncomfortably, Maris’s fixed her gaze on Valda, whose entire demeanor did not change, except the tapping of her finger on the armrest.

---