Once he showed the guards behind that door his tattoo, things happened very quickly.
The inner wall was made of marble, white spotted with blush pink, segmented by veins of black and grey. It had tall, delicate towers at regular intervals along the wall, which stood a bit higher than the outer one. He didn’t get much of a chance to admire it, though; the men who had answered his knock on the door had whisked him through the gate in the space of a heartbeat, and they were halfway across the inner grounds now. It didn’t look that much different than the outer grounds here, but Jay guessed that this was where the noble folk enjoyed the outside without having to mingle with commoners. He grimaced to himself. God, with dying and being reborn and everything, I forgot how much I hate rich people. Gotta keep it under wraps until I know I’m not being beheaded, though.
Even in his own mind, that joke fell flat.
Ahead of him stretched the castle gates, which were much shorter and delicate than the other two had been. The walls of the castle itself were smooth grey stone, polished to a lovely shine, and the gates were made of a dark wood that had been carved and accented in silver. They showed the crest of the queen in the middle, of course, but around it were dizzying geometric designs that would have given Jay another aneurysm if he had to draw them. He cleared his throat, turning his head to talk to the guard who was a few paces behind him. “Are we going to talk to the queen right now, or is she currently indisposed? I wouldn’t want to interrupt anything.”
The man’s expression was hard to read beneath his leather helmet. His voice was professional, curt, and deep. “We will escort you to the Throne Room, where the Queen’s Knights will decide.”
Jay nodded, thanking him, and turned his attention back to the front. Ahh, so there’s a hierarchy here. That makes sense, not every guard is a knight, and not every knight is a Queen’s Knight.
They walked through the entrance hall, whose roof soared above their heads, through a few hallways, until Jay lost track of where they were in the castle. The guards seemed to know, which was the most important part, but he hated feeling lost.
At last, they came to a set of double doors, rather plain for what lay behind them. The men who stood in front of them were anything but plain, though; their armor was metal where his escort’s was leather, and theirs was engraved with flowers that cascaded down their fronts. They carried swords, buckled to their hips, instead of the small knives that the guards wore on their belts. Jay whistled softly to himself, admiring the craftsmanship of it all as they drew closer. Those must be the Queen’s Knights. I hope they are, anyway, because if they’re not, I don’t know how much more ornate it can get.
There were people clustered on benches to the sides of the doors; when they saw Jay and his escort, they started to whisper amongst themselves. They seemed to be an odd mix of rich and poor people, some in layers and layers of beautiful clothing that looked like it cost a fortune, and some in clothes even plainer than what Jay had on. All of them, though, stared at him warily as one of his guards spoke with one of the metal-clad knights, who appeared to both be female (although Jay knew better than anyone that looks could be deceiving). The knight moved her head to stare at Jay, who tried his best to look non-threatening (it wasn’t hard to do). After a brief conversation, the guard motioned them forward, and when Jay was within reach of the knights, his guards vanished. Probably back to their duties. I don’t blame them, this seems like a lot.
The knight that had talked to his guard stared at him while his partner cracked open the door to the room beyond. “Show me your arm, please,” she said softly, and Jay did as he said, pulling his sleeve back to expose his tattoo. The woman stared at it for a few seconds before reaching out and running a single finger down his arm, through the middle of the tattoo. She nodded, satisfied, and glanced at her partner, who nodded back. Jay was ushered into the room, the door closing with a soft click behind him.
Before him lay the throne room of the Summer Court, and it lived up to its name. The white and green marble floors beneath him were cut in perfect square tiles; the windows above were stained glass, all greens and yellows and reds that colored the room in shades of summer. Ivy climbed the walls, twisting over each other in deliberate patterns, while potted monsteras and orchids hung from the ceiling, their leaves and petals fluttering in the breeze. It was something out of a movie, but it all paled in comparison to the woman who sat on the throne in the center of the room.
She was surrounded by a bustling retinue of men and women, all clad in different colors and styles, and the effect was like a field of flowers in the wind. It reminded Jay of the common room of the Rooted Dryad, but a thousand times more expensive. In contrast, men in gleaming steel stood beside, behind, and in front of the throne, swords hanging from their waists, but they were ignored as if they were statues, just another part of the scenery.
None of them seemed to notice the newcomer with his mouth open in the back of the room. Jay understood why, though; the queen on the throne (what else could she be?) commanded attention. She was dressed in a gown of dark green, its long train pooling on the ground beneath her feet, a crown of silver flowers woven into her dark hair. Her arms were bare of cloth; instead, delicate vines wrapped around her wrists and fingers, trailing upwards to her shoulders. She was beautiful in every sense of the word, and even the scars that blazed from forehead to chin, passing through her left eye, did nothing to diminish her allure.
Though she seemed delicate, her singular right eye was sharp and discerning; as he stared at her in wonder, their eyes met, and her attention made the hair on his arms stand straight up.
He took a deep breath through his nose, the cloying scent of flowers and incense almost thick enough to choke on, and had almost let it all out when a man popped up beside him, hand on his sword and eyes narrowed through his gleaming helmet. Jay let out a small scream, jumping in surprise, but the man just studied him for a moment before saying, in a low voice, “The queen would like to speak with you. Follow me.”
There were no threats, no sudden movements to restrain him, but that singular hand on the sword and the calm assurance with which he carried himself made Jay do as he said with only a moment’s hesitation. The two of them emerged from behind the pillar, and the collection of people surrounding the queen slowed to a stop to stare as they crossed the room.
The guard’s feet made no sound on the marble; Jay’s sandals echoed with each step, and he tried to shift his gait to muffle it to no avail. He chanced a glance at the knight, realizing that his shoes were covered at the bottom by a thick layer of something soft that dampened his footsteps as he walked. That was why I didn’t hear him when he snuck up on me. That’s smart, he thought, and by then the two of them were in front of the throne, the queen staring down at him with something like amusement. Please, please let it be amusement. I’m owed a little bit of luck here.
The knight bowed from his waist, and Jay hastily copied him, his face breaking out into a sweat from the warmth of the room. Outside had felt like a perfect kind of summer, not too hot and not too humid. This place felt like the kind of summer that Jay was used to suffering through year after year; the worst kind of summer, wet and still in a way that made him immediately uncomfortable.
He kept his eyes fixed firmly on the ground but could still feel that gaze upon him as the moments stretched out. Maybe a minute passed just like that, with Jay and the guard still bent at the waist, the silence so loud that his heartbeat thrummed in his ears. Mercifully, before he passed out from anticipation, the queen spoke. “You’re dressed in the clothes of the common people, stranger, but you wear them well. I appreciate your courtesy and ask that you straighten so I may see your face.”
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Jay swallowed and came out of his bow, keeping his hands in front of him to show that he wasn’t a threat. He was pretty sure that no one here considered him one, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Up close, the woman’s eye was piercing, and she studied him from head to toe in only a moment before she nodded. “Your face speaks to me from a life I lived long ago. Tell me your name, stranger, and how you came to be in my court this day.”
Clearing his throat, Jay tried to speak without his voice trembling. His words came out mostly smooth, although he couldn’t stop his nerves from making the ends of his sentences wobble. “My name is Jacob Holtz, your majesty, but all my friends call me Jay. I… was going to work yesterday in a place far away from here, and then I died. I think. I was told. After I died, a man gave me a chance to start a new life in this world, and here I am. I came to the castle as soon as I could this morning. I was told that, as an Outsider, I needed to talk to the queen, so… here I am.”
His words caused gasps and small murmurs to erupt among the brightly dressed people around the throne. This close, Jay could see that each of them also had a headpiece of silver flowers, though none of theirs were as prominent or ornate as the queen’s. The queen raised her left arm, and the whispers hushed in an instant. On the underside, the vines snaking up her arm were parted to showcase her own tattoo, identical to his in size and shape. She inclined her head towards him, and he fumbled with his sleeve, peeling it up to show her that he had the same mark.
The queen smiled broadly, her eyes crinkling at the corners, the only visible sign of her age that Jay had seen so far. “Be welcome, Outsider Jacob Holtz, to the Court of Summer. We have need of more responsible young men to take up the duties that weigh on us. To you, I offer a title and the protection of the Crown, if you will bend the knee and wear the silver. What say you?”
Protection sounds great; titles I’m not sure about, but we take these things in stride. Or at least, we pretend to, and then freak out about it later. Jay’s deliberation lasted only a moment before he sank to one sweaty knee before the throne, bowing his head. He spoke loudly and clearly, so that everyone could hear, proud that his voice didn’t tremble at all this time. “I accept, Queen, uh… your majesty. It would be my honor.” FUCK I forgot her name. Marchesa? Mariella? Damn it, that’s like diplomacy 101, Jay. So much for taking it in stride.
A hesitant clap quickly swelled into real applause, and Jay lifted his head to the queen (his queen now. He didn’t even like the monarchy) standing, holding her hand out for him to grasp and rise. He wiped his hand on his shirt before he did so, but even with that precaution their grip was slippery when he was fully on his feet. The queen raised an amused eyebrow, saying only loud enough for Jay to hear, “For the record, young man, my name is Queen Marcella.”
Jay coughed once, face turning red even as he grinned, matching her tone. “Thank you, Queen Marcella. I promise that I won’t forget again.”
She waved a hand carelessly, her easy smile turning to a surprised frown as she looked at Jacob up close. He looked down, plucking his shirt away from his body, grimacing at the way his chest stood out from the rest of him. Dele’s clothes were a bit tight around the chest, which was usually easy to hide, but he had sweat so much that his shirt was sticking to him in all the wrong places. Praying that he didn’t smell too badly, he started to apologize, but his words fizzled out at the expression of disgust on the queen’s face. When she spoke this time, her voice was flat and echoed around the room with a damning kind of finality. “You come to me in the clothes of a man but with a woman’s body. You allow me to call you a young man even though you are not. What is this?”
Jay blinked, thrown, and searched the face of the woman before him for the warmth that had been there only seconds before. “I’m transgender, your majesty. I’m not a woman any more than you’re a man.” His words came out sharper than he intended, and he winced at the cold look that slid over Queen Marcella’s face, like a shutter across a window.
She took a breath, placing a hand on her stomach, and spoke with a terrible calm. “I know the world that we came from. I know that it is not pleasant for women, and denies them what would never be denied a man. But you are not there any longer; that part of you has died, must die if you are to be part of my court. You are old enough to know that these silly phases do not last; shed this ridiculous notion at once.”
The words were out of Jay’s mouth before he had a chance to think about them, hostile and mocking and absolutely damning. “Full offense, but I would rather chew nails than do that. No one gets to decide what I am except me, and you’re not nearly handsome enough to pass as my double.”
The silence in the room was almost quieter than it had been before, a tremulous thing that stretched on forever. Jay didn’t break the woman’s gaze, his stomach dropping right into the pits of hell, cursing the day he had learned how to speak. I hope that the Accruer still has that scifi world ready to go, because I think I’m about to need it.
The quiet was broken by the Queen’s sharp command, which caused everyone except her and her knights to flinch. “Take her from my sight. I will not speak with filth such as this.”
The words took a moment to sink in, and by then Jay was already being restrained. He twisted, trying to break free, but the knight behind him was much stronger than he was. As she dragged him towards the throne room doors, he thought fuck it, I’m dead anyway. Might as well go out on a technicality. He took a deep breath and bellowed, “Hey! You offered me a title and protection, and we shook on it! Does a QUEEN go back on her word so easily?”
Queen Marcella stopped dead where she was, a single step from her throne. The knight behind him paused as well, and he muscled his way out of her (admittedly slack) grip, taking a single step towards the throne. The faces of the court told him that what he was doing was a terrible, awful idea, but he was angry now, a bone deep anger that said fuck that, fuck this, fuck her, if I have to die here I’m taking whatever I can with me. He spoke again, just as loudly, just as meanly. “I guess that anyone the Queen dislikes is at risk of a broken promise. Good to know that there are liars and frauds in this world, too.”
The woman in front of the throne whirled around, and her eye was filled with rage, but it was nothing compared to Jay’s. They glared at each other, and then the queen said, in a tone that was suspiciously light, “The Outsider is right. A queen does not go back on her word. You will have your title, evil little thing. You will be a Mayor, the lowest title I can bestow, in the poorest little shithole in my kingdom. We will send you off with a council picked from the worst of the lot, thieves and murderers and swine, with enough supplies for half a month. We’ll see how sharp your tongue is when you starve; or maybe you’ll be killed first, which would be a pity.” She took a step forward at the end of every sentence, until they were just a few feet apart, never breaking his gaze.
Jay’s stomach twisted at her words, and he swallowed, hoping that his shoulders weren’t trembling too badly. There was nothing to do but keep glaring; he had made his bed, and he was damn sure ready to die on this specific hill. Queen Marcella studied him, and as she did, a nasty smile bloomed on her face. Now that is creepy as fuck, Jay thought. “As for your protection… you will have it. No harm will come to you inside these walls. But the people who gave you those clothes are not extended the same protection.”
Jay went cold. She wouldn’t. Fuck, she would. I can’t let her hurt Diyan and Ndubuisi; they didn’t do anything, and I’m the only one that should pay the price for being an idiot and mouthing off to a queen. Did I mention them to her? No, but the pattern on the clothes I’m wearing will be easy to find if she really wants to go looking. Think, Jay, why would you have these clothes if they weren’t given to you?
The lie slipped out of his mouth as smoothly as if he had practiced it in the mirror. “I stole them from the back room of an inn, so go ahead, see if I care. Just make sure that you aren’t lying about me being safe here. No poison in my food and no knife in my back, or my body will be proof that the Queen is a dirty liar.”
He hoped that the jab at the end had the intended effect of taking her mind off his clothing. Her eye narrowed, and she searched his face for any sign of a lie. Jay was normally terrible at this kind of thing, but it was easy to hide deception with anger, and she was the one to look away first, turning her back on him with finality. “You will leave tomorrow, and I hope never to see you again. Get out.”
The knight grabbed for him again, but Jacob wrenched his hand away from her, turning on a heel and stomping out of the throne room. It was petty, but he relished in the awful noise of his sandals on the marble. She followed on his heel as he stormed out, the people in the hall all leaning away from him as though he had a disease. He grinned at them, showing all his teeth, blood still boiling, absolutely terrified. I guess the Accruer was wrong; the only growing I think I’m going to be doing is pushing up daisies.
