“Enough. I accept your gift. Now, get out. I’ll send word to Our Majesties that you are here, though no doubt they’ll be told as soon as they wake. Go to the quarters given you and wait there until you’re summoned. You’ve behaved like a thief or an invader.”

“Please don’t tell the King,” he said softly. “Please. I am sorry. Forgive me this secret offense and you will have a friend in me forever.”

“And why should I want that?” I asked.

“Lady Eva, give me time to earn your trust.”

“Get out,” I said.

He left without another word.

In a moment, Severin entered, and he was indeed quaking with fear as I expected.

“My lady, he said you were expecting him! He said if I didn’t admit him the worst fate awaited me! He said terrible things, things I didn’t even understand, that I stood between him and the sun and the moon, and no force on earth could keep him from his mission, he spoke of worlds traversed, of seeking a blinding light—”

“You ever let anyone into my chambers again like this,” I said. “And do you know what I will do to you? You’ll be on your knees naked in the kitchens below, the plaything of cooks and bakers for a year.”

He was on his knees and kissing my feet immediately. My heart went out to him as it always did. He was so innocent, so tender of spirit.

“Now you listen to me, boy,” I said. “This will be the end of it, but you never let him past the threshold of my rooms again.”

“Yes, my lady, yes, please, please never send me away. Beat me, punish me, but don’t send me away.”

ii

“This is most strange,” I said to Her Majesty. We sat on the open terrace above the gardens, having our morning meal together. She listened attentively as I recounted the words Severin had spoken. “And what does he mean by all this, this language, his ‘mission,’ and that he has traversed worlds to seek a blinding light?”

“Don’t you know, Eva?” asked the Queen. She looked particularly lovely this morning in her gown of violet and silver with a silver necklace of amethysts and pearls.

Down below in the fountain court nearest the castle doors, the King was breakfasting with Lexius at a marble table. We could see them perfectly but not hear a word. Fountains everywhere gave a low whisper of sound to the morning gardens, and the day’s relentless rhythm of entertainment and busyness had not truly begun.

Lexius was dressed as he had been to greet me, and in the bright light of the high sun he appeared a great god of the East encrusted with jewels. So rich and long was his hair he might have been mistaken at a glance for a woman. And his fine features would not have given his gender away. But his manner was now without reserve or any special obsequiousness and he was speaking urgently and rapidly, it seemed, with animated gestures to the King.

The King as so often had an air of contented patience as he listened. Never was he not outfitted for the eyes of the Court. His scarlet tunic flattered his complexion, but then what did not flatter him? He was smiling and nodding easily at Lexius.

I had not told the King that Lexius had invaded my private rooms. But from my blessed queen I held back nothing.

“Rip your eyes off our august visitor and answer me,” said the Queen calmly.

“Oh, forgive me. You asked me whether or not I knew the meaning of his strange language.”

“Yes, and surely you do know what all this means.”

“No.”

“Eva, you are the guiding genius of discipline in the kingdom,” she said. Her voice was gentle. “You were that before we came! You are the shining representation of the old monarch and her exacting ways. The King may be the priapic guardian of the realm, but you are the prosecutor of our unique laws.”

I was stunned. The Queen didn’t say any of this in anger, nor did she seem to possess the slightest resentment of me, yet what could this mean for her to speak in this way?

“You are our queen,” I said softly. “Your Majesty, this is called Beauty’s Kingdom far and wide, and in the gardens during the revels and in the village and in all the rooms and hall of the castle, as a matter of course. Bellavalten has become Beauty’s Kingdom.”

“I am merely a symbol,” she answered, “in a land of symbolic gestures and rituals and happy to be so. The old story of enchantment adds to my luster. But it is the King who rules Bellavalten and you who grasp the mystery of all we do and enjoy here, you who effortlessly command as others obey. This is not really ‘Beauty’s Kingdom.’”

What could I say? I waited. She was mistaken, gravely mistaken, if she thought my grasp of things exceeded hers. She fathomed depths of which the rest of us knew little or nothing. Her judgments were sound, and her decisions perfect. No scheme or design of hers had ever failed. The King marveled at this, as did I.

“Lexius has heard of you, Eva,” she said, “heard of your unquestioned mastery, heard of your governance and your personal power—a power that cannot be bestowed on one by others. He’s heard of your youth, and your strength, and your unconquerable soul.”

“Perhaps,” I whispered. “But my queen, why does this matter?”

“Eva, he would first and foremost be your personal slave.”

“No, Your Majesty, allow me to contradict you. He is a slave by nature, that much is plain to me, but he is a proud prince as well. I venture to say he is a domineering prince. This morning, I felt two currents coming from him—extreme need and indomitable will.”

The King rose from the table below and moved towards the castle doors. Lexius came after him, leaning close to him, slipping a bold arm around the King’s back and talking urgently to the King as before. Out of view they walked together.

“Your Majesty, you’ve never been unhappy with me, have you?” I asked.

“No, Eva. Never. I would have told you were I ever unhappy. It’s the opposite. I marvel that you can do what I cannot. I thought to rule Bellavalten properly I must at least understand what Eleanor understood so completely: how to punish and discipline with relish, how to savor the suffering of devoted slaves rather like savoring the fragrance of a great feast or garden of exotic flowers . . .” Her voice trailed off.

She looked out over the wilderness before her of handsome fruit trees and blossoming shrubberies, of ancient oaks here and there left as reminders of an earlier seemingly unconquerable forest—of dancing fountains and carpeted paths. She was sad.

The gardeners slave and free were appearing everywhere. Naked slaves bent to trim and tend the pampered roses and zinnias and oleander. Humbly clad peasants dug up the dark earth for new flower beds, and brought carts of mulch and rich black soil. She watched them as she watched everything.

“Do you fault yourself that you do not enjoy all aspects of this?” I asked. “But how can you fault yourself for such a thing?”

“Because I think that as queen I must. I cannot go out amongst my subjects as a naked slave, can I? I can’t recapture what existed decades ago, not for myself. Oh, never mind, Eva. You have realized all my dreams for the kingdom. You have anticipated most of them. I envision, the King confirms, and you make real.”

“Your Majesty, in your private chambers, you are free as any lord or lady of Bellavalten.”

“I know that, Eva. I had dreamed of something exalted for myself, a reign to rival Queen Eleanor’s, a face beneath the crown to strike terror in those who so long to be terrified, a manner to chill those who came to be chilled of their own will.”

“Ah, but you possess these attributes, my queen,” I said.

She did not believe it. She did not know. She did not realize the thrilling fear she aroused in all those around her. But how could she not know, she, who seemed so attentive to their anguished devotion?

“Your Majesty, the kingdom, such as it is, is your achievement!” I said. “You have a power over all of us, all your subjects, infinitely greater than Queen Eleanor ever had.”

“How is that possible?”

“Because you are the iron mistress with the irresistible sweet smile, the absolute authority with the soft voice, the merciless queen who binds with more than mere chains!”

“Is it really so?”

“Yes. Oh, yes.” I leaned towards her. I spoke boldly but in a confidential voice. “Your Majesty, the late queen’s legacy was a great concept and a brittle refusal to carry it to greater and greater heights. Your genius with your slaves, your genius with Lord Stefan, your genius with all your subjects, is a marvel. Whatever you suffer inside, you make the kingdom what it is.”

She did not respond. She stared out over the gardens.

“Why do you think we are all so devoted to you?” I asked. “Rosalynd and Elena live to please you with the gilded slaves of the nightly festivals. Your tender fillies are thrilled to their naked hearts to be delivered to your stables. Your little pets, both kittens and puppies, are in a swoon of torment to be near you. Your conviction is blinding in its brightness! You are every bit as potent in the ruling of this realm as our lord, the King.”

She appeared to ponder this and finally she turned to me, her blue eyes soft and wondering, and her face as filled with sincerity as always. “I understand what they all feel, you see.”