The Queen in the Moonlight
"As you will," replied the head guard.
The head maid nodded her head, a gentle inclination that expressed gratitude and commanded obedience.
"Thank you."
Her fingers clenched into fists around the rim of the trolley, knuckles against cold metal. The wheels glided softly over the smooth stone floor as she edged it onward. Lantern-light fell across her blonde locks, and for a moment her golden eyes flashed as if warmed by fire. Then they were swallowed by shadow, the stillness falling once more.
None of the guards had the courage to look at her once more. It wasn't fear that bound their eyes down, nor indifference—it was the power of her presence. She moved as if the stones were hers. Even queens might be ignored, but not the Head Maid.
She set her palm against the double doors of the chamber and shoved.
