He disappeared through the portcullis, leaving Roderick standing there in the breezy night air with his horse and the other guard staring him down. Above him, the rest of them kept their arrows nocked against their bows, ready to fire.
Finally, the guard returned with another man who was taller. He wore a red and white cloak over his armor with the sigil of a rose and crown along the back.
“I am Erick, Captain of the Guard. Give me the weapon and I will deliver it to the queen.” He held out his hand and waited.
Roderick glanced from the man’s open hand up to his face, giving him a faint smile. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. I was asked to personally deliver it to the queen.”
“Asked by whom?” demanded the captain.
“The messenger she sent to me to commission the blade a week ago.”
The captain stared at him as though he had grown a second head. “I know of no such messenger.”
“Then perhaps you should ask your queen about that,” Roderick said, refusing to back down.
“Perhaps I will.” He dropped his hand. “Come with me. We will stable your horse while you meet with the queen.” He gave a nod to the other guard, who reached for the reins.
Before he led the horse away, Roderick reached into the saddle bag and brought out the dagger which was sheathed in a leather scabbard and wrapped in a thick cloth. The captain of the guard eyed the weapon with interest.
“Don’t worry,” Roderick said. “This is the weapon she commissioned.”
Erick said nothing as he motioned for Roderick to follow him. He led him through the portcullis and across the bailey. They entered the main keep, where the captain led him to a large room hosting one throne. Torches lined the walls every few feet. Large braziers burned bright in each corner, giving the room a warm glow. Even so, the room was less than inviting.
“Wait here,” he ordered.
Then he was gone, leaving Roderick to stand there alone in the middle of the room feeling awkward. It wasn’t long before he returned, a woman following him.
When she came into view, he recognized her immediately. This was the messenger who came to his forge and commissioned the enchanted blade. She gave him a broad smile as she passed by him and headed right for the throne, her black gown trailing after her and the heady scent of peonies. The captain remained standing behind him, his feet shoulder-width apart and his hands clasped in front of him.
She perched on the edge of the throne, leaning on one of the arm rests. There was a deep glint of something wicked in her eyes that gave Roderick a feeling of unease.
“Master blacksmith,” she said, her voice ringing out in the cavernous room. She waved him closer. “Please approach and show me the dagger you forged.”
He remained where he was. “Where is the queen?”
The laugh bubbled up her throat. “I am the queen.”
He stared at her, long and hard and realized what a fool he’d been. The messenger who came to him in this forgewasthe queen.
“Your majesty, he claims a messenger commissioned the blade from him a week ago,” the captain said.
“A messenger did,” she confirmed. “That messenger was me. Come, master blacksmith, and show me this weapon.”
With a cautious glance over his shoulder to the captain of the guard, he unwrapped the dagger in the leather sheath. Erick rested his hand on the pommel of his sword, ready to wield it should he make any threatening moves.
Roderick stepped closer to the queen and handed it over. She took it, unsheathing it with a flourish and holding it up into the flickering light. Rainbow iridescence flickered up and down the steel, giving it that ethereal glow of enchantment. Excitement lit her eyes as she gazed at it, moving it to and fro with the flick of her wrist.
“This is a magnificent blade,” she said, her voice full of admiration.
“Thank you, your majesty.”
“You delivered as promised. We must toast this momentous occasion.”
With a wave of her free hand, a table appeared next to her. On the table, was a silver ewer and two silver goblets. She poured from the ewer a pale liquid he assumed was mead. She picked up one of the goblets and extended it to him. He eyed the dagger still in her other hand and hesitated.
She chuckled. “I see the fear in your eyes. Do not worry, sir, for I do not intend to stab you with your own blade. I merely wish to offer a toast.”
He stepped forward and took the goblet. She replaced the blade back into its sheath, then picked up the second goblet. She tapped hers against his and then drank. Though he was still unsure, he drank. It was sweet, leaving a strange after taste on his tongue.
