Fortunately, she’d already spoken to her husband about having a more direct influence on Issylte’s upbringing. This would work to her advantage now.
“Fetch the Lady Brangien. Bring her to me in the throne room. Go quickly.”
The knight rushed to obey. Queen Morag summoned four of her remaining guards. She gave them quiet, explicit instructions. All four gravely nodded their heads and left to follow orders.
Her heart pounded with adrenaline. It was exhilarating, this new power as queen. With her husband away, the timing was perfect. And with Issylte gone from the castle on her daily equestrian lesson—which would keep her away for the remainder of the morning—it was downright ideal.
Queen Morag sent for her attendants and ordered them to assemble the castle servants in the throne room and to await her there. As they scampered off, eager to please, she returned to her private chambers to gather her wits and polish her regal appearance.
She brushed her jet-black hair and plaited it in a thick braid, which she tossed down her back. Upon her head she placed a silver coronet, adorned with icy aquamarine gemstones, which perfectly complemented her shimmery blue gown. To put a rosy glow into her nervous pallor, she pinched her cheeks and bit her lips to give them a hint of blush. With one last glance in the mirror, she smoothed the folds of her dress, held her head high, and proceeded to the throne room, followed by the two remaining royal guards who had been waiting at attention just outside her bedroom door.
The eastern wall of ogival windows bathed the glorious throne room in brilliant morning sunlight. Graceful white stonecolumns held the curved arches along the length of the vast room, where two green velvet tufted thrones were centered upon a raised wooden dais, flanked by the royal standard of King Donnchadh—the great white hawk upon the dark green background. The throng of servants apprehensively awaited her, their new queen.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd assembled on either side of the long carpet which covered the stone floor and extended from the entrance to the rich walnut dais. At the sight of the queen and her royal guards, the throng fell silent as Morag purposefully strode into the room and claimed her seat upon the throne. Brangien stood uneasily before the dais, Sir Knial the escort at her side.
“Dear Brangien,” the queen began, her voice commanding and cold despite the fondness of the term with which she addressed Issylte’s governess. “You have been a most loyal servant for many years, for which King Donnchadh and I are most grateful.”
She smiled insincerely at the woman who appeared terrified to have been summoned to the throne room. Morag exulted in the thrill of power. Her pulse thrummed with excitement.
Motioning for the steward, Lord Lugaid, to approach, she handed him a black velvet pouch and ordered him to give it to Brangien. The nurse accepted it hesitantly, her fearful eyes fixed on the queen.
“Please accept this as compensation for your excellent service to the Castle of Connaught. However, since I plan to personally assume the responsibility of educating the Princess Issylte from now on, you are henceforth dismissed from your duties as her nursemaid.”
Gasps of shock reverberated through the crowd of servants.
Queen Morag nodded to the four guards who had received the explicit orders just outside her royal antechamber.
“My royal guards will escort you to your room so that you may pack your belongings. You are to depart at once, before the princess returns from her equestrian lessons.”
Brangien emitted a guttural moan and dropped to her knees.
Morag impassively smoothed the folds of her elegant gown and lifted her haughty chin to glare at Brangien. “I wish to avoid a most unpleasant scene. You will depart immediately. Thank you for your service, dear Brangien. You are hereby dismissed.”
The four royal guards escorted the distraught nurse from the throne room.
As the servants bowed before her, Queen Morag gracefully stepped down from the gleaming dais and glided up the carpeted path, followed by a trail of simpering royal attendants.
A few moments later, a small crowd gathered at the front of the castle and bid goodbye to Brangien, who rode off into the forest with the queen’s four loyal guards. Morag smiled in wicked delight.
****
Issylte returned from her riding lesson, her cheeks windburned, her hair a tangled mess, her spirit still soaring. She led Luna into the stable, where she removed the horse’s saddle, storing it upon the wooden stand. She brushed and groomed the dappled gray mare, who was now munching on the sweet-smelling hay that she’d placed on the floor of the stall. At the sound of footsteps, Issylte looked up and spotted her two attendants, Roisin and Aislinn. They seemed upset, their eyes puffy and red, as if they’d been crying. Issylte’s heart pounded. Something was terribly wrong.
“What is it?” she gasped, dreading the response.
Neither one of her ladies in waiting seemed willing to respond. They glanced at each other in desperation, both avoiding her imploring eyes.
“Please, Roisin, tell me! What has happened?”
Issylte took hold of her attendant’s trembling hands.
Roisin gulped, as if finding the courage to speak. Finally, she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion, “The queen dismissed Gigi! She ordered her to leave at once. And now, Your Majesty… Gigi’s gone!”
Issylte couldn’t believe what she was hearing.Gigi was gone?She turned to Aislinn, who nodded, her eyes downcast, her lip quivering.
She didn’t know what to do. Her mind raced. She was terrified of the stepmother who haunted her every move, always lurking in the shadows. She certainly could not run to the frightful queen with soulless eyes and icy hands. Father was gone, for at least another week.
She could jump on Luna and gallop after them!
