As he approached the steps to the castle, he was greeted with a full garrison of centaurs.
“What’s your business?” a captain asked.
“Here to meet with the queen. I have news for her.”
“And you are?”
“Her cousin, Diflyn of Naran.”
His name didn’t register with the captain, but the dark brown centaur was wise enough to accept it as fact. Shooing the others back, he allowed Diflyn to proceed with the captain at his side.
After all, Meara was nothing if not paranoid.
Which was why he was forced to wait in a gilded hallway outside her throne room while the captain went inside and left him to be watched by the eight guards.
All of them dressed in royal livery.
The bay to his right seemed a bit uneasy while the gray on his left appeared amused.
Diflyn would ask why, but he didn’t really want to be friendly with those who ranked below his station.
That being said, he was impatient as minutes ticked by.
At the half hour mark, he was ready to leave. Only the knowledge that by doing so he’d invoke her wrath kept him standing quietly.
Inconsiderate bitch.
She was most likely doing this on purpose. It was what gave her great entertainment. To exercise her power and make others feel their lesser stature.
If only he had the courage to attempt her murder. But he knew he’d never be so bold.
Like everyone else, he feared failure. Because she would exact a brutal retaliation.
When going up against Meara, succeed or die took on a whole new meaning. And to be honest, he admired King Dash for his willingness to confront her.
But he wasn’t stupid enough to think for one moment that Dash would be successful. Dash had a code of honor. Meara did not.
And in war, it was the soulless monsters who won. Morality was for nursemaids and farmers. Mercy for the weak.
Meara understood that. Respect was nice, but fear reigned supreme and kept everyone in line.
“Diflyn?”
He looked at the major domo who called his name. “Here.” He stepped forward.
A dapple gray, the major domo was well dressed in a dark blue jacket that matched his wary eyes.
Diflyn could only imagine the terrors that equine must have seen in his service to Meara.
Without another word, the major domo led him into the queen’s throne room where she rested in sternal recumbency at her desk. Even in that position, she was regal to the core.
Her long black hair was intricately braided around her auspicious gold crown that was laden with rubies and diamonds. She was a beautiful bay with white stocking. To be honest, he’d never seen any female more beautiful.
What a shame beauty of that magnitude was wasted on such a callous bitch.
“Majesty,” he said, bowing low before her.
She glanced up from the papers in her hand to sweep a withering stare over him. “Speak and leave.”
