The Real Queen

Chapter 7- Smoke and Secrets

The palace apothecary smelled like every flower that had ever died in the name of healing.

Thick waves of lavender and rosemary tangled with sharper scents, iron, vinegar, dragonroot. It was enough to make my head spin. I’d barely stepped through the arched door before my eyes began to water.

“Close the door!” barked a voice from the far end. “You’ll let the heat escape!”

I flinched and quickly did as I was told.

The woman who’d spoken was bent over a long marble counter, her yellow hair pinned up like a sunbeam that had lost its patience. Her hands moved with precise rhythm, grinding something that hissed faintly with smoke.

A door sign that showed her name loud and clear — Madam Emery Begins.

Head Healer of the Aerithen Palace. Fae. Terrifying.

She didn’t look up as she spoke. “You’re the new one. Martina, yes?”

“Yes, Madam,” I said quickly, clutching my satchel like it could protect me.

“Herbalist?”

I hesitated. “Yes.”

Her head snapped up. “That wasn’t convincing.”

“I mean— yes! I am! Absolutely!”

"My name is Madam Begins."

She gave me a long, assessing look, then returned to her mortar. “We’ll see about your herbalist abilities”

There were four other healers in the room two fae, one human, and one man who might have been half of each. None of them spared me more than a glance. They worked with the quiet focus of people who had long ago stopped asking questions.

I hovered awkwardly at the edge of the table until Madam Begins pointed to an empty station.

“You’ll start with simple mixtures,” she said. “Healing salves, cooling draughts, pain powders. If you poison anyone, I’ll know.”

“Yes, Madam,” I murmured.

“Good. Now, what’s the ratio of crushed willowbark to silverleaf for minor wounds?”

I froze.

“Um,” I said intelligently. “A pinch?”

Her head turned slowly, one yellow eyebrow arching high. “A pinch?”

“Two pinches?”

From somewhere behind me, someone snorted.

Madam Begins sighed like a woman whose patience had already retired. “You will start by cleaning the mixing table. Jeck! Show her where the brushes are before she breaks something.”

“Yes, Madam,” said a gruff, amused voice.

A man appeared beside me, short, broad-shouldered, with graying hair and a grin that looked permanently on the verge of trouble. His apron was stained in more colors than I thought existed.

“Come along, ‘Herbalist,’” he said cheerfully. “Let’s save a few lives today, shall we?”

"My name is Jeck Petro", he said with a faint smile but I can tell he was nice.

Within ten minutes I realized he was the only reason the apothecary hadn’t burned down yet.

He handed me a bucket, a rag, and what looked like an ancient broom missing half its bristles.

“Scrub, rinse, repeat,” he said. “And whatever you do, don’t mix the green powder with the red one unless you fancy a trip to the spirit realm.”

I blinked. “You’re joking.”

He grinned wider. “Only a little.”

I gave him a look. “Which part is the joke?”

He winked. “Guess.”

For the next few hours, I did exactly as told. Which, apparently, meant making mistakes at every possible opportunity.

When I tried to wash the mixing basin, I accidentally used a reactive solvent that hissed and foamed until Jeck yanked it away with a stunned look.

When I attempted to sort dried herbs, I mixed moonmint with sleeproot and Madam Begins nearly lost her voice shouting when half the room started yawning uncontrollably.

At one point, Jeck leaned over and said in a stage whisper, “If you’re trying to get fired, you’re doing splendidly.”

I muttered, “I’m trying to learn.”

“Then stop thinking and smell.”

“What?”

He picked up two leaves, crushed them between his fingers, and held them under my nose. “You can read a thousand scrolls, but your nose will always know more. Smell the world. It tells you when it’s alive.”

I tried it. The scent was sharp and sweet, familiar somehow, like the herbs my mother used to dry by the hearth.

“That’s silverleaf,” he said. “It heals fast but burns first. Good for the bold, bad for the careless.”

I smiled faintly. “Like me.”

He chuckled. “You catch on fast, ‘Martina.’”

By late afternoon, I was covered in powder and nervousness. My hands were stained green, my apron a battlefield of failed mixtures, but Madam Begins nodded once as she passed.

“You didn’t kill anyone,” she said. “Good first day.”

“I’ll try not to make that my only achievement,” I muttered under my breath.

She stopped mid-step, one eyebrow raised. “What was that?”

“Nothing, Madam.”

Her mouth twitched almost a smile, almost approval. Then she was gone again, sleeves rolled, all business.

That evening, I go back to my quarters after a busy, busy day.

My servant dormitory was modest narrow stone halls, creaking doors, and the faint scent of soap and candle smoke. I was given a small shared room at the far end.

Inside, a young girl was folding sheets with brisk efficiency. She looked up when I entered.

“Oh!” she said, smiling. “You must be my new roommate.”

Her hair was dark and soft as ink, her skin warm and sunlit, her eyes a bright curious brown. She looked human wholly human no pointy ears and younger than me by a few years.

“I’m Kryss,” she said.

"Hi my name is Eli...Martina”

"Hi, Martina, what is your assignment?"

"Herbalist," I say proudly even though I know nothing about being one.

"and you?" I ask as I take a bite from the sandwich I have for dinner.

"I am one of the queen's servants"

My heart stuttered.

I drop my sandwich on the floor.

The Queen.

I forced my voice steady.

She grinned. “Ooh, go get another sandwich the palace has foods for millions of years. Herbs and potions? That sounds fascinating.

Dangerous, mostly. but fascinating."

She laughed, an easy, open sound that felt like sunlight in a world of shadows.

As we settled in, she chatted about the palace the endless corridors, the gossip, the fae nobles who treated humans like decorative pets.

I wanted to ask more about the 'queen' while my heart sank everytime she addressed her as that.

“They say the Queen’s chambers glow with moonfire,” she said, eyes wide. “I’ve never seen them, of course. Only her attendants go inside.”

I feigned mild curiosity. “Is she kind?”

Kryss hesitated. “She’s… Beautiful. The kind of beautiful that hurts if you look too long.”

I swallowed. “And the King?”

“Handsome,” she said dreamily. “But distant. He barely speaks to anyone. They say he’s still haunted by his first wife.”

My breath caught. “His… first wife?”

Kryss nodded, lowering her voice. “The human one. The one who died in the war. Some say she was killed by rebels, others say she betrayed him. But the Queen doesn’t like when people talk about her. I heard she forbade her name being spoken in the palace.”

A sharp ache spread through my chest. He let her erase me.

I forced a smile. “People say many things.”

Kryss studied me curiously. “You talk like you’ve been here before.”

“Maybe I just listen well.”

That night, I lay awake long after Kryss had fallen asleep.

Her words echoed in the dark: The Queen forbade her name.

Once, that name had been spoken in songs. In oaths. In love.

Now it was nothing more than a ghost.

But ghosts have a way of returning.

The next morning, I woke to a loud crash and a muttered curse.

In the apothecary, Jeck had apparently decided to “experiment” with a new salve which had promptly exploded, coating half the table (and him) in purple smoke.

Madam Begins stormed in like divine retribution, hands on hips. “Jeck! If you blow up one more table, I’ll have you mixing poultices for stable beasts!”

Jeck grinned through the smoke. “Experimentation leads to progress, Madam.”

“It leads to fires!”

“Same thing, really.”

I couldn’t help it I laughed. Out loud.

Madam Begins turned on me, frowning. “And you, ‘Martina,’ what are you laughing at?”

“Just...” I tried to breathe through the giggles. “The smell. It’s… delightful.”

Jeck sniffed. “Ah, yes. Eau de disaster.”

Even Madam Begins’ lips twitched. “You two deserve each other.”

By midday, the chaos had calmed. We worked side by side Jeck humming, Madam Begins muttering, the younger healers pretending not to enjoy the show.

It was the first time since my fmaily... that I felt almost… human again. Like the ache in my chest could coexist with laughter.

Jeck caught me smiling at one point and said quietly, “Whatever you ran from, don’t let it turn you to stone. There’s more to life than surviving it.”

I met his eyes. “You sound like someone who knows.”

He shrugged. “I used to serve the old king. Before Caladan.”

My pulse jumped. “You did?”

“Yes,” he said, voice soft. “And I learned this much...every kingdom changes its crowns, but the people below keep patching up the wounds.” He gave me a crooked grin. “Now pass the red powder. Carefully, this time.”

That evening, I returned to my room, my hands sore, my heart full of noise. Kryss was waiting, brushing her hair before the small mirror.

“You survived your second day?” she teased.

“Barely.”

“I knew you would.”

She turned, smiling. “There’s something about you, Martina. You don’t look like the rest of us.”

I froze. “What do you mean?”

She tilted her head, studying me. “Not in a bad way. Just… like you’ve seen more than you say.”

I forced a laugh. “Maybe I just listen well.”

“You said that yesterday.”

“Then it must be true.”

After she drifted to sleep, I sat by the window, watching the moonlight spill across the courtyard. Somewhere above, the Queen’s tower gleamed.

And for the first time, I didn’t just feel anger. I felt curiosity.

Who was Arathene really?

What spell had she cast over Caladan...over everyone? Maybe the spell of beauty.

Something in my bones whispered that the war wasn’t the whole truth. That the Queen’s beauty was only the surface of a much deeper wound.

And maybe, Kryss could help me uncover it.

I looked toward the stars the same ones that had watched me lose everything, and whispered,

“Let her think I’m nothing. Let them all think that. The less they see, the closer I’ll get.”

Outside, a dragon’s shadow crossed the moon silent, vast, and watchful.

I smiled faintly.

“Soon,” I murmured. “I’ll take back what was mine.”