The Queen stood on the terrace, leaning against the railing and gazing into the distance. The view was truly breathtaking. The Green Valley was fragrant with flowers, and waterfalls cascaded down distant mountains, feeding a swift river that snaked through the valley like a silver serpent. The river disappeared behind the castle walls, likely winding its way toward the cultivated fields and eventually the vast, eerie forest beyond.

She turned toward me. The guards who had escorted me bowed deeply. I didn't, instead studying her eyes. At first, they seemed dark blue, but then I realized they were a deep lavender, framed by thick, straight lashes. Something shifted in her face and expression. I always noticed the small details that others overlooked. Sam used to say I was just a bore and nobody cared about those things, so I stopped mentioning them aloud. Meanwhile, he took advantage of my observant nature, shamelessly flattering every woman and man he wanted to get to know better.

Tears welled up in my eyes, as they always did when memories from my past hit me unexpectedly. They came rushing back, vivid and intense, as if they had happened just yesterday instead of ten or five years ago.

"Something happened to you? Did one of the guards upset you?" The Queen approached me, her mask of indifference slipping for a moment.

"No, no, I'm sorry. I just remembered something from my distant past. You've put on dark red lipstick, it looks really good on you."

"Do you think flattery will help you?"

"I'm not flattering you. I just noticed that you put on lipstick. You didn't stop there; you applied a golden shimmer on your cheeks. It's beautiful. Where I come from, some people use highlighters on their faces, but yours looks better, like each 'star' was carefully applied."

"Where are you from, then, and what's your name?" the Queen asked mockingly. She towered over me by a head, making me feel small and defenseless. The Queen was older than me, maybe by about ten years, putting her around twenty-seven or twenty-eight. Her proud stance, her striking face with dark, beautiful eyebrows, and expressive lavender eyes exuded maturity and independence. Looking at her, it was hard to imagine her in any role other than that of a royal figure.

"My name is Ti, I'm from Santa Barbara."

"Never heard of such a place," the Queen scrutinized my face as if trying to gauge whether I was lying.

"I doubt you have," I said. "Though it's beautiful, right by the ocean. I need you to return my flute."

The Queen looked at me in surprise. "You're quite bold."

"It's not boldness. The flute really belongs to me. Well, not to me, but to the museum where my mom and dad work. It's a museum artifact, and it needs to be in the collection, or my mom will worry."

"Your audacity is astounding," the Queen said. "No one has ever spoken to me like this."

"Not even your parents?"

"They've been dead for a long time. Damn, why am I even telling you this?"

"It's good to get things off your chest sometimes. At least, that's what my grandma always says."

"You're unusual."

"You're not the first to tell me that," I replied, glancing at the distant waterfalls. They were almost inaudible; the birdsong was much louder. "You have a very beautiful view here."

"I didn't choose it, but come," the Queen said, looking wistfully into the distance. "You know, you seem too gentle and sweet to be a murderer."

"I'm not a murderer. Well, it doesn't look good, but believe me, neither Papagalino nor I are to blame," I began to speak quickly. "He's very afraid of you, but you seem very kind to me," I blushed, and the Queen smiled. "When she was shot, we were terrified, but we managed to fight off Sarastro's men."

"Now, tell me more about that," the Queen said, her expression growing serious.

Give my older novels a chance 🙏🥺

More chapters on my personal Patreon page

New updates:

The cover belongs to ©treepipit

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved
© treepipit 2019-2024