The Western Winds

      The typical masquerade ball maintained a sense of duality. Of course the surface beauty; men and women dressed in their best, faces pointedly obscured by the tiniest of masks, or the flashiest of them. Then, there was the terrible boredom the entitled guests worked terribly hard to perfect. It was worse at balls, doubly so at a masquerade. Nobility so often felt that their gaudiest clothes and most expensive jewels could carry the weight of a conversation or stand in for an actual personality.

           Raella found that her own boredom was quite real- not a pretentious act like that of her distinctively ambitious friends. Days like this made her long for the days of her youth, where she could run off and shirk responsibility all day long. Her mind wandered to the friends she’d had back then- loud, boisterous, outspoken, both orphans, neither noble. Perhaps they were better off for it.

           Raella spotted her eldest daughter, Avisse, on the dance floor, twirling about with some young gentleman. She caught her mother’s eye and pulled closer to her partner so that he wouldn’t see when she rolled her eyes. Raella covered her mouth to hide her smile.

           She approached a group of her ‘friends.’ In truth, she only had a handful of friends and none of them were at this party, but it was more convenient to treat these people as friends rather than enemies or acquaintances.

           Lady Priscilla’s gown and mask were every bit as beautiful and well adorned as the other ladies she twittered with, but she lacked the jewels and accessories they flaunted so openly. Her husband had died two years ago, and this was the first social event she’d attended since- though the only piece of jewelry she wore was a rather poor-quality ring that adorned her left ring finger. It wasn’t the ring her late husband had given her, and no formal engagement notice had been issued.

           Baroness Albritte was the youngest of us, and her belly was swollen from the little gift she was growing inside. She was unmarried, and probably a little too confident that no one would notice the slight swell of her stomach, or the way the most assuredly married Lord Nerre kept casting nervous glances her way.

           The eldest of them, Lady Ophelia, had slimmed down quite a bit. Her once rosy cheeks were now pallid and colorless, and her eyes sported dark circles. She was fisting her skirts, adjusting them as if it would hide how worn they’d become. She was also absent her usual adornments- in fact, Raella had seen one of her most prized pieces on one of the younger ladies that had just debuted this season.

           Comparatively, Lady Mellodia was the very image of grace and class. She hoisted the wine to her lips and her eyes slid over to mine with a knowing smirk, as if she were saying ‘see these two airheads? How they display their ineptitudes?’ Never mind the fact Raella had never seen Lady Mellodia without a drink in her hand.

           “Ladies, Baroness,” Raella greeted each of them with a nod and a smile, “so nice to see you all out and about today. Are you enjoying the refreshments?”

           “Yes, your Majesty,” they said in turn, each curtseying.

           “I do love the color scheme you’ve chosen for the decorations; how ever did you get the idea?” Lady Mellodia purred.

           “I’ve been thinking of a friend of mine as of late. She always reminds me of the sea.”

           “Oh! Speaking of, have you heard the latest news from Madakir?” Lady Ophelia asked, rosy cheeks brightening at the chance to speak of her beloved homeland. She might have married into the life of a Gairan Lady, but her family hailed from the land of the gods. “A new goddess has been proclaimed!”

           “Another one?” Lady Priscilla asked, “The pantheon is expanding more and more by the day, it seems.”

           “Isn’t it exciting, though?” Baroness Albritte asked, “What’s she goddess of?”

           “Sailing, or so I hear,” Lady Ophelia replied.

           “Doesn’t that step on the toes of the Goddess of the Sea?” Mellodia asked.

           Lady Ophelia frowned ever so slightly, “I suppose it mustn’t, or she wouldn’t have been proclaimed as such.”

           “I suppose we’ll be praying to her to take down that monstrosity that’s terrorizing the coast,” Lady Priscilla said with an outright scowl. “Baroness, hasn’t your father’s company taken quite the hit from it?”

           “Oh yes,” Baroness Albritte replied, nodding emphatically. “The Western Wind has been hitting our fleet very hard. We’ve lost four just this year!”

           “The Western Wind?” Lady Ophelia, “What, like a storm?”

           “Might as well be,” Baroness Albritte said with a snort. “It’s the name of the ship. No one knows who the captain is. I hear he looks like a devil- tall, grizzled, with a huge scar across his face! Some of the sailors with my father’s company say he kidnaps sailors and forces them drink the blood of their fellow shipmates as a sick initiation rite.”

           “Is that so?” Lady Priscilla asked, visibly taken aback. “That’s not at all what I had heard.”

           “It’s true though! Straight from the sailors that have seen him.” The baroness sipped her drink, peeking at Raella beneath her long lashes before turning her attention back to Lady Priscilla. “…But what have you heard?”

           “I heard that the Western Wind is a curse by the gods themselves. The Goddess of the Sea is showing us her displeasure by attacking ships with the undead sailors she’s claimed!” Raella couldn’t pinpoint Priscilla’s expression- it could have been excitement, mischief or even a cruel sense of humor.

           It was certainly a reminder that Raella really was no good at dealing with these women.

           “My husband- you know, he has a veritable fleet of ships- hears quite a bit of that commotion,” Lady Mellodia said, nose high in the air, drink already mostly gone. “He says,” she slid her gaze around the ballroom before motioning them to come in tighter. Raella stood firm. “…it’s none other than a ship of elves- possibly even scouts from the elven kingdom looking to stir up a war!”

           The ladies ‘ooh’ed and ‘ahh’ed.

           “What do you think, Majesty?” Lady Mellodia pressed when Raella didn’t react as expected. “Has your husband any intentions of addressing the threat?”

           “Perhaps my husband and I will become involved when the rumors become substantiated,” Raella replied with a practiced grace. It certainly hadn’t come naturally to her- in her younger days, she would have gone off on all of them for speaking ill of those they knew nothing about. “For now, there’s no evidence of the Western Wind committing any crimes. Nor is there any evidence of ghost ships, or elven invaders, or ritual blood drinking.”

           The women didn’t even have the class to look a little ashamed of themselves. An attendant flagged her down, and Raella nodded to him. “If you’ll excuse me. Please enjoy yourselves.”

           They looked a bit confused as Raella parted from them, and she didn’t miss how they whispered amongst themselves after she’d left, all their eyes lingering on her back. “Bertrand, you’ve saved me yet again,” the smile faded from her face when he didn’t return it. “Is something the matter?”

           “You’ve a… guest… awaiting you in your office, your Majesty.”

           Raella’s smile returned instantly. No guests should have been permitted in the Queen’s office in the midst of a ball- and only one guest inspired such a clear look of annoyance from Bertrand.

           Queen Raella of Gaira left the ballroom with smooth even steps, but the moment the heavy doors were shut behind her, she lifted her skirts and scurried to the staircase that led up to her office. She paused at a small window and checked the horizon. Sure enough, there was a ghostly ship lingering on the still waters. The moonlight filtered through the sails, and though she couldn’t read the name painted on the bow, she would have recognized the figurehead anywhere.

           She hurried up the rest of the stairs and hesitated in front of the door to her office, smoothing out her skirts and instinctively adjusting her posture back to what one would expect of her. She swept into the room with calm, even steps and looked down her nose at the woman perched on her solid oak desk. “Daephyra Windcaller, I would very much appreciate it if you would refrain from harassing my staff.”

           “I don’t consider visiting an old friend harassment,” Daephyra replied. She looked exactly the same as the last time Raella had seen her- but then, her kind didn’t age like humans did. “If Bertrand would let me in the front door, I wouldn’t have to come through the windows, and he wouldn’t feel harassed.”

           Raella laughed, a loud bark, unladylike by every standard, but filled with honest mirth.

           Gods, she missed honest mirth.

           “How have you been?” Raella asked, carefully removing the mask from her face before tossing it aside and wrapping her old friend in her arms. She smelled like salt and sea.

           Daephyra patted her back, “Oh, come on now, your Majesty, that’s no way to greet a pirate, is it?”

           Raella released her and pulled back, “You’re not encouraging those rumors are you? I know full well you are many things, but a pirate you are not.”

           “I don’t know, I like the sound of it,” Daephyra said, laughing. “I got a hat just for show. The crew think it’s a right laugh. You know- we stopped a slaver ship and they actually thought we were going to feed them blood?”

           The queen wrinkled her nose, “Yes, well, I might have heard something along those lines myself. And all about your ghastly crew of the undead. Oh, and don’t forget-”

           “-the elf invaders,” the women said in unison, before laughing.

           Daephyra’s laughter fell short, and Raella inspected the lines of her face. On closer inspection, she looked drawn, her eyes lined with dark circles.

           “How are you, Dae?” Raella asked. “You look…”

           “Tired,” Daephyra replied, stealing the word from her mouth. “Yes, Ambrose tells me that all the time. There’s more to it than one might expect,” she said, shrugging. “A lot of, uh… prayers to answer and stuff. And, you know, I never cared much about pirates until they got so damn savage with the good sailors, and…”

           “Heavy is the head,” Raella said. She moved behind her desk where she hid an expensive cognac. She’d intended it as a gift for her husband, but she another could be easily procured, and Daephyra came and went with the winds. There was no telling when she would see her old friend again.

           If she would see her old friend again.

           She busted out the corkscrew and after trying and failing to look like a natural at opening it, Daephyra laughed at her and took it, then poured two glasses and passed one off. “How’s life treating you?” she asked, “Considering you have a, you know, actual crown now.”

           “Doesn’t feel real most days,” Raella admitted, sitting down with her drink. Daephyra seemed content perched on the desk, looking out over the sea at her ship. “Luckily, Gaira is still as misogynistic as ever so there isn’t much actual work to be done. I just manage the household staff more than anything, smile and look pretty. And sit still.”

           Daephyra winced at the final words. “You were never good at that.”

           “Neither were you,” Raella laughed. “Goddess of Sailing suits you, don’t you think?”

           Daephyra got that look on her face- one she’d had often as a child. As if the burdens of the world were resting on her shoulders, and she alone would have to carry them. “I suppose. Though I’m not technically Goddess of Sailing- yet. They’re calling me the Goddess of the Western Wind. Which is fitting, don’t you think?” Daephyra’s smile seemed forced, and Raella didn’t bother to return it. The women sat in silence for a time, Raella giving the new deity time to return to herself. When she did, Daephyra inhaled sharply and clapped with enthusiasm she was surely forcing. “You have daughters now! You must tell me all about them.”

           “Of course,” Raella said, brightening. She began to fill Daephyra in on everything she’d missed since their last grand adventure, especially expounding on her perfect daughters, Avisse and Estella, but all the while, memories flashed through her mind. She missed the days when she wore breeches, explored jungles, fought cultists, and saved her father’s kingdom from ruin. Honestly, she mostly missed wearing breeches.

           Their conversation was cut short when Bertrand came to remind her that there was a ball going on downstairs, and Daephyra’s First Mate was at the door to collect her. They could never stay in one place too long.

           Daephyra seemed to prefer it that way, anyway.

           Raella caught Daephyra’s arm before she could move away. “I’ll miss you, dear friend,” she said, a sentimental frown tugging the corners of her lips.

           “Oh, don’t give me that,” Daephyra said, wincing at the frown. “You know full well, it was purely luck that we crossed paths in the first place. A Queen has no place befriending a pirate.”

           “Except you’re no mere pirate,” Raella reminded her.

           Daephyra smiled fondly, “And you’re much more than just a Queen. Try to remember that sitting still and looking pretty is oftentimes overrated behavior.”

           Raella smiled and pulled her into one last hug. “I’ll do my best,” she said softly.

           Daephyra nodded, pulling free of her friend’s embrace, and making her way to the window. “Oh, and Raella,” she said, stepping up onto the sill and turning to face the Queen.

Raella wished she could monopolize more of her friend’s time, but she knew better than to even ask. After all, the seas were large, and filled with sailors in need.

“Remember,” Daephyra shot her friend a smile and a wink, “Don’t say a thing.” Without awaiting an answer, she gave a mock salute and fell backwards out of the window.

Raella rushed to the window and watched as the wind caught Daephyra, and she flew winglessly towards her ship. She didn’t bother to yell her response, knowing that the winds themselves would carry her whisper to her, as they always had.

“My lips are sealed.”