There are times, especially when dreadfully nauseated, when it would be a big plus just to keep my eyes closed and to pass into the cavern of queasiness, but Ben had just said words that could have gotten his head chopped off, if Faery Queens did that sort of thing, and this was me that folks were discussing, so I wedged open my eyes, pulled my nose out of the airplane bag, and looked up.
The Queen, hearing Ben’s words, had reared up her head either with an air of royalty or of great rage, but seeing me looking at her, she blinked once, then moved closer.
“Timothy, pull the necklace off your wife. I command it.”
The fact that Timothy and I had both tried to remove the necklace back at the house/mansion didn’t seem to have any bearing on the Queen’s demands. Timothy didn’t even pause to argue. He reached out to touch my neck, then scooped the blasted thing off me like it had never been attached. Then, not knowing what to do with it, he tossed it to Ben, who started squeaking with the sound of fingernails on chalkboard.
The plane was decelerating, its little wing flaps tugging on the air around us, howling and growling as if it were an injured puppy. I wanted to clamp my hands over my ears, but that was only a moment of whimsy. I was too fascinated by the spectacle going on around me to fall back into my relief bag.
The Queen, still robed in a gown that sparkled blindingly, was clinging with all her strength, one hand on Timothy’s seat and the other on Ben’s, trying desperately to keep her balance. Poor Ben stood beside her, also hanging onto the plane’s heavy seat framework with one hand, while the other held the necklace with such distaste, it was like it was a snake that might suddenly bite him.
All the people about us continued frozen in their stasis. I have no idea what they were thinking. Were they even aware of the golden-gowned woman standing in the aisle? Had they heard anything, or were their bodies and minds just turned off as if they were anaesthetized to the scene?
Ben handed the necklace to the Queen, then practically jumped back into his seat and had the safety belt about him only seconds later. When my eyes returned to the Queen, she had suddenly disappeared.
The plane’s wheels were breaking, laying skid marks across the runway, I supposed. Gravity thrust me backwards. I was holding Timothy’s hand with such intensity, he’d probably have finger imprints in his skin when the plane stopped. My vomit bag had been lost, possibly on the floor, maybe even pushed backward to share space with the two werewolf guards behind us. I was glad that not only was it empty, but luckily, I didn’t need it anymore. My stomach had given up its protests. My eyes saw only one reality, the inside of a skidding, noisy, vibrating metal contraption, that might possibly be falling apart at any moment it was rattling so hard. I was still a panicked mess, but not nauseated anymore. And the plane was slowing down. We’d made landfall. Could the worst be over?