Page 38 of Heir of the Beast

Then it dawns on me. This is Queen Irena.

My pulse jumps to life.

“Forgive me for keeping you waiting,” she says, motioning her guards to leave. I pick up on her sarcastic note, as I’m not so dumb to think that a queen is sorry for anything, especially for keeping a slave waiting.

I’m immediately on guard.

I keep my head down and my mouth shut.

“I asked you here out of pure curiosity.” She laughs. “I heard of this slave who is creating quite the commotion.”

I say nothing and bite my lip, not sure where this is going.

I hear her walk toward me as she sits in the chair opposite me. Her skirts are taking up most of the couch. “You may look at me, slave.”

I raise my head and stare into frigid, cold eyes. The blue is the color of the polar ice caps, devoid of all warmth. I can see the wrinkles around her mouth and eyes, and her neck tells me she is most likely in her fifties.

“I see that your eye color is shocking.” She narrows her gaze at me. “I hope you can understand my surprise upon hearing a simple slave possessed discolored eyes.”

“Why is that a shock, if you do not mind me asking?” I ask quietly, genuinely curious.

She laughs like I said the funniest thing ever. “I forget that slaves do not know much about worldly things. Well, my husband, the King of Galleon, lost his daughter long ago.

“She was said to be the only one to possess this rare eye color, you see. The King was devastated, calling all witches and sorcerers to make it so that no one shall possess that rare eye color again.

“Ridiculous, if you ask me, but that’s what he wanted. That uniqueness was saved for his poor, precious daughter.”

“What happened to his daughter?” I stare at her, wondering what the witch really did.

“That does not concern someone like you. But, if you must know, she died at a very young age. Stolen in the middle of the night, never to be seen again.

“Later, her shoes were found drifting in the Galleon Great Lake, the very lake where her mother jumped to her death. It’s all very tragic and a very touchy subject.” She tilts her head at me.

“In Galleon, many have claimed to be the missing princess, faking the eye color and such. Some even went to great lengths by invoking the dark arts to change their eye color.”

I think about that, noting this sounds very similar to ~Anastasia~. Weird, though, that the movie is my favorite of Disney’s. I wonder if ~Anastasia~ is originally a Fairy Godmother tale. I

will ask Mort when I get a chance.

“I assure you this is my natural eye color.” I narrow my gaze at her. Queen Irena arches a brow and thins her lips. “I also do not remember my past, having hit my head, resulting in amnesia.”

I hold her gaze, my implication evident.

She looks as though I slapped her in the face. “Do you dare to imply you could be my stepchild? Because if you do, you are overstepping your bounds, slave.

“My husband’s late daughter is deceased, and I will make your life a living hell if you do not back off.” She leans forward.

“I see that you have a face that some men might find desirable, and I can also see now why you are trying to ensnare the affections of Prince Apollo, which I find laughable.

“If anything, he is only interested in a quick toss, and I might say you are in the wrong profession then. As a prostitute, you could make a lot of money.” She laughs and smooths out her skirts.

“You are very bold. If you aim to escape slavery and con your way into my family, you have another thing coming.

“You do not know what you’re up against if I catch wind of anything to do with my husband’s late daughter. Do I make myself clear, slave?” Her face is flushed with rage.

I keep my anger in check. Sounds like the witch needs to get laid more than I do. The grumpy old coon.

Oh, wait, she is—by the King’s adviser.

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