Stefan gazed solemnly from his window as the coach rocked and jostled on the road, the green hills of home slowly giving way to endless plains of brown wheatgrass. His driver--a quiet, surly man with a nose like a hatchet--kept the horses moving at a brisk pace, stopping only for meals and to relieve the inevitable call of nature.
The land rolled endlessly by, marked only by the occasional farm or ruined fortress. By evening Stefan was already impatient for the journey's end. At first he had been eager to see the world outside his village, but the view from the coach had grown stale and he was always cramped and stiff. His mood darkened further when the driver informed him that it would be at least three more days to the Queen's castle. Having no other choice, Stefan bore it as well as he could. His thoughts often returned to Maggie, wishing she had told him of her love sooner, that they could have had more time.
The coach halted for the night at a busy town where Stefan was boarded at the best inn and treated like a visiting Lord. Two serving girls came to offer themselves during the course of the night, but Stefan's heart was unwilling and he sent them away. The next day passed as slowly as the first. The second night was spent at a roadside inn where Stefan was given a hot bath and a fine supper of spiced potatoes and roasted boar. A large-bosomed matron showed him to his room and sternly commanded him to disrobe, and being too weary to argue, he obeyed. To his relief she began to knead the stiffness from his cramped limbs with her strong, skilled hands, and as she worked her way down his body it seemed that all the remaining tension was drawn into his manhood. He swelled, throbbing, and the woman smiled and treated this affliction with slow, stroking caresses until his burden spewed forth and was relieved. The matron departed without a word and Stefan slept more soundly that night than he had since leaving home.
On the third day the road began to wind upward into a range of jagged, forbidding mountains. It began to rain and thunder, and the coach halted at a gloomy inn where Stefan met two other Lottery winners who had stopped there to weather the storm. One was a dark-haired and swarthy young man Stefan's age, and the other was a mousy young woman with chestnut hair and a small, worried mouth who spoke little and jumped at every sudden noise.
They sat and talked beside the fire as the lightning flashed and thundered outside. The young man's name was Grigori and he claimed to be a gypsy prince, though he seemed more rascal than royalty. He knew all sorts of clever tricks, from making coins vanish to juggling cups and throwing knives. As darkness fell they began to talk about what might lie in store for them, with Grigori spinning grisly tales of black magic and sacrifice.
"I've heard that the Queen stays young by bathing in the blood of virgins," he said, eyeing the brown-haired girl as a roguish grin spread over his face. "She hangs all the girls over a tub and
chop chop
, cuts their throats and bleeds them like pigs. Then she skins them and sells their souls to the Devil."
Stefan struck him on the arm and bade him be silent out of pity for the poor girl, who had paled and was beginning to tremble. After supper they fell quiet, with Stefan laying his head sleepily on the table while Grigori sat brooding by the fire, no doubt thinking of all the wealth and women he'd been forced to leave behind. The girl sat nervously biting her nails, looking like a thread that was slowly coming unraveled.
Before long they retired to their separate rooms where Stefan was once again visited by a serving wench, this one a slender young waif who seemed barely of age. He was about to dismiss her when she fell to her knees and began to cry.
"Please, Lord," she whimpered pitifully. "If I fail to please you my father will beat me! I beg you, let me stay!"
Stefan relented and the girl kissed his hands before sliding into bed with him. As she nestled close he grew tempted to take her, but she was so frail and innocent that it seemed villainous to consider. Instead he merely held her to him, enjoying the warmth of her body as he drifted off to sleep. In the morning she had another favor to ask.
"The more marks of pleasure I bear, the greater my father's pride," she said, hanging her head shyly. "My Lord, if you would perhaps bite me, on the shoulder or on the neck..."
It was the strangest request that had even been made of him, but after a moment's consideration he granted it, biting the girl on her exposed shoulders just hard enough to leave the reddish imprints of his teeth. As an extra touch he suckled at her throat until a handful of love-bruises appeared. The girl was overjoyed and kissed his hands again profusely before running from the room.
Stefan joined the others for breakfast and was pleased to hear that they would be traveling together on the final leg of their journey. A large carriage met them outside and soon they started again in relative comfort, with Grigori dozing as if he had spent a great deal of energy during the night. Stefan passed the time by conversing with his other companion, learning that the brown-haired girl, Yvonne, was from a small mountain village to the east. She was still anxious and quiet, but Stefan managed to coax a smile from her with a few jokes he'd learned at the inn.
They traveled onward in silence, with Stefan looking out his window at the sound of every passing horseman, hoping to see an armored knight or lord on the way to some perilous adventure. For a time he was disappointed, but as the day wore on their carriage passed a long column of soldiers bearing the standard of the Queen--a pouncing black griffon on a field of red. The sun gleamed brightly on their armor and spears, and Stefan had to hold tight to the carriage door to keep himself from falling out as he clambered for a better look. They were all anxious and excited now, even the sleepy-eyed Grigori. The castle could not be far off.
At last the road topped a rise and they beheld the infamous fortress of the Black Queen, a vast, many-tiered structure of glimmering black stone that sat on a solitary pinnacle of rock overlooking the road. Craggy towers rose up from its walls like rows of broken teeth; long scarlet banners flew from the topmost battlements like licking tongues or streaming runners of blood.
It was a bleak and ominous sight. Yvonne began to tremble, and Grigori paled but kept up his brave talk, musing aloud how many pretty girls there must be in a place that size. Awestruck, Stefan gazed at the dark walls of the castle and wondered if it could truly be as sinister as it looked.
At length they drew up to the outer wall and passed over the drawbridge. The gate yawned before them like the mouth of some colossal beast, but their carriage never slowed as it clattered through a long tunnel to finally emerge into a vast, green courtyard. The path was lined with sculpted hedges above which grim-faced statues loomed. Birds chirped and twittered in the branches of fruit trees, and at the center of the courtyard stood a gigantic fountain in the shape of a reclining griffin, a broad stream of crystal clear water spouting out over its tongue to splash noisily into a basin of white-and-yellow water lilies. Stefan was heartened to see that the inside of the castle was markedly more cheerful than the outside, but it was still imposing in its size and grandeur.
The carriage halted and the driver called for them to disembark. Stefan stepped down first, breathing in the cool, flower-scented mountain air as he stretched his stiff limbs. Black-clad men and women were moving to and fro in the courtyard, and he could see a motley crowd of what could only be fellow Lottery winners waiting in front of a pair of large iron doors that led into the castle.
When all three travelers had stepped down from the carriage, a footman came and bowed curtly before them.
"On behalf of Her Majesty the Queen, I welcome you. If you would be so kind as to follow me..." The footman turned and strode off toward the assembly at the iron door. As he followed, Stefan guessed that there must have been upward of a hundred youths gathered there, their numbers mixed evenly between the sexes.
Their escort halted near the doorstep and bade them wait with the others.
"Pray, be patient. In a moment Her Majesty's Chamberlain will receive you."
Nervous chatter rippled through the crowd. Grigori and a few others began to juggle and tumble about comically, no doubt to ease their own nerves as much as to entertain the others. Yvonne began to tremble again and Stefan took her hand and held it, soothing her as best he could.
At last the great iron doors swung inward with a muffled boom. They were ushered inside, passing into a long splendid hall with marble columns and a floor so polished that it shone like a mirror. The walls were ornamented with all manner of trophies, portraits, and hangings. An unsettling mural depicted a smoky battlefield strewn with the corpses of a defeated army, their bodies mangled and aflame. The survivors were being torn apart by monstrous wolves as a stately woman in black looked on, her lips curved in a grim smile. Stefan had no doubt that the woman was meant to be the Queen.
The group was called to a halt beneath a curtained balcony as two more footmen appeared and came to stand before them.
"The Lord Chamberlain will now address you!" One bellowed. "Stand straight and do not speak!"
With a faint rustling of the curtain above, a dark, narrow-faced man stepped forth onto the balcony to look upon his guests. He frowned and stroked his pointed beard for a moment as if displeased with what he saw. At last he spoke, his high-pitched voice echoing throughout the hall.
"I am Lord Renault, the Queen's Chamberlain. Whether or not you are deserving, you have been afforded an honor which very few enjoy. Each of you will be given a place in the Queen's household, to be trained, groomed, and broadened. You will be treated fairly, but do not forget to whom you owe your allegiance. Any disrespect or defiance will be met with swift punishment. Perform your duties well and you will be just as swiftly rewarded."
He paused as a very pale young woman emerged into the hall and moved with unhurried steps toward the gathering.
"The woman you see before you is one of the Queen's personal handmaidens," the Chamberlain continued. "Obey her as you would the Queen herself, for she is Her Majesty's eyes and ears, as well as her hands. Your training begins now, and your progress will be watched closely. The Queen has been most generous to bring you here. Do
not
disappoint her."
