I suppose I should have played their game a little more, but I was growing angry. I wanted to return to my honeymoon cruise, with my friends, and, especially with my beloved husband — my new husband, the one that I’d been expecting to climb up the stairs with and fall into bed for another wondrous night of bed play. Grr.
“I want to go back to the ship,” I said. “I want to return to my husband. Right now.”
The queen’s cheery face grew black with indignation. “How dare you make demands. I am the queen. I have chosen you to stay with me during my time of boredom and emptiness.”
Her lips smoothed out into a wicked smile, and the line of age that had appeared on her forehead smoothed once more, so that she again appeared no more than twenty-four years of age. I felt awed by the transformation.
“And if that provokes Queen Moragana, that would be excellent,” she laughed. “A ravaging war with its feast of blood and jealousies; that would bring back my nobles and soldiers. My people would revel in the competition. They would rise to the occasion and drink to my health for causing such a breach.”
“My queen, your delight has brought apples to your cheeks. You are restored to youth again,” the gold Adonis said, dropping to one knee before her.
She petted his cheeks, smoothed back his hair, then leaned forward to touch her lips to his.
The other two men shifted impatiently. One stepped forward, as if to join in the lovefest, then he glanced at me and stopped. “Should we place the girl in the dungeon, my queen? Or do you prefer a chamber for this one?”
I gasped and backed away from their madness. My eyes flitted about, wondering if there was someplace to flee from here, to hide out until sanity reappeared.
The queen looked up, eyed me a moment, perhaps, noticing my desire to escape. “Do not attempt to run, my dear Penelope. We shall not allow that.” Then she sighed.
“No, no dungeon. She has been rude, but she is the wife of Nardon of Donic. It is probable that he may inherit the kingdom from Queen Moragana, although there has never been a Pooka sitting in that great seat. But, no, we shall not risk the insult to his position. Place her in the Gray Room and padlock it. Position one of you always at her door, for she may be more than she seems. It is possible, I suppose.”
That was the place where I should have fallen to the floor and pleaded, but I was in shock, stunned into silence.
“Come,” ordered the guard who had just suggested throwing me into the dungeon.
“Wait,” the queen said, perking up a moment, then smiling at me as if she’d decided I was her dearest friend. “Do you sing? Or dance? Do you have some amusing act to share with me?”