Young Writers Society

There was always an aura of mirth around Pires, even when she was being intense and obtruse. Today, however, she was simply unprofessional in her inability to prevent herself from laughing. Buck had to drop eye contact with her in a desperate attempt not to let it spread - he was the one the prince was actually going to see.

Yesterday, they had reasoned after the debate in the meeting hall - Pires said not much more of note had happened - to plan this current attempt to get the prince into the dining hall. They were in a large bedroom in the guest wing, with soft white rugs over hardwood floors and a massive four-poster bed. There was also an en suite bathroom in one corner, which was key.

"He's going to be here soon, your grace," Buck said, teeth gritted as much to keep himslef under control as to get his point across.

"I know, I know. I timed this, remember?" Pires said. She took a deep breath. "It's fine. I'm fine. It's going to be fine."

The thick wooden door swung quietly open, revealing Hilene on the other side. His back was to them, but for once this had nothing to do with his manners. He held his right hand up behind him and extended four fingers, which meant they had roughly forty seconds until the prince walked past the room. Buck flexed his fingers, stepped from foot to foot, made weird shapes with his mouth.

He looked at Pires and mouthed a countdown from five, then said, "Well, your Grace, you know there's no better way to move past something than to experience it as normal."

Pires closed her eyes. Her arms twisted in strange contortions in the air. Finally, she said, in a perfect imitation of the queen's clipped tones, "Perhaps, but it is hardly your place to say, young man. I don't know how you expect me to return to normal after my son spoke to me with such arrogant disrespect." As soon as she was done, Pires turned and darted through the door to the en suite bathroom, towards the secret passage in the back.

Buck pinched his side from within one of the pockets of his light green shawl and managed to keep a straight face. "Forgive me, your Grace," he said to the empty air. "I simply meant to offer counsel. If you'll allow me, would it not reassert your authority if you were the one-"

There was a knock on the door. Hilene leaned in and said, "Buck, you in here?"

Buck looked around and smiled up at the guard. He could see Erson's face poking out from behind Hilene's small blue and yellow shield, his small pointy nose and high forehead with his hair parting in the middle.

"Good morning, Hilene," Buck said, "Is there something I can do for you?"

“Not really,” Hilene said, his voice much less brusque than usual. “Prince Erson thought he heard the Queen in here. Have you seen her?”

“I haven’t,” Buck said, hoping Hilene remembered that that meant Pires had successfully vacated the room. It seemed that he had, for the quickly stepped aside and let Erson enter the room.

“I could have sworn…” Erson murmured, looking around the room. He focused back on Buck. “Who were you talking to?”

Buck blinked. “Um… I was talking?”

Erson posture deflated. “Right, as a fool a question, get a foolish answer. I’ll let you get back to… whatever you were doing.”

“Actually,” Buck said, pointing one index finger upwards. “Duchess Pires said to get you to go see her, your Grace. In the small meeting room.”

“Right, yes, fine. Go back to your business,” Erson said. He turned to Hilene. “Where is the small office?”

“Oh! I can take you,” Buck said. “Your Grace.”

Hilene bowed slightly and gestured them forward with an outstretched arm.

Erson sighed. “Come along then.”

Buck walked with a slight bob in his step, with the bucket handles slung over his arm. He had a tiny set of bells wrapped around the base of one handle, so with every step he made a merry little jingle. Erson didn’t look at him the whole way down the guest wing, through the main landing and into the public area.

The small meeting room was adjoined to the main meeting room down to the right, on the opposite side from the secret passage. Or at least, the opposite side from the particular secret passage Buck had used yesterday. As he led Erson into the smaller room, about the size of Pires’s office, he was careful to stop his eyes from flicking towards the hidden doorway at the back of the room.

Pires sat at one side of a small stone table, and gestured for Erson to take the seat opposite her.

As he did, Pires looked up at Buck and said, “Good morning, Bucket. Could you do me a favour and copy out a letter I wrote this morning?” She glanced back towards Erson. “My handwriting is terrible.”

“Of course!” Buck nodded vigorously and sat down next to Pires. She moved some papers over to him and handed him a quill.

“Alright,” Pires said, shifting on the wooden bench to face Erson properly. “I was wondering if I could tempt you to reconsider your position on the public nature of feasts.”

Erson frowned. “That’s what you had the fool bring me here to talk about?”

Pires sighed. Buck was focusing on the paper in front of him but he knew that would be the moment where Pires glanced guiltily to the side, pursed her lips, then looked Erson in the eye. “Look, I do not mean to inconvenience you, your grace. It’s simply that our court has been built for a long while now on the coming together of the people, nobility and entertainers.” She paused, during which Buck knew she’d be glancing at him. “This is who we are.”

“I had no intention to bring your court to a stop,” Erson said.

“I did consider going ahead without your family, but I worried that would be perceived as a snub, and I have no wish to spread rumours of ingratitude on my part,” Pires said.

“Well, I suppose that’s quite right…” Erson said.

“And I understand that your mother would hate the very notion-”

“She would,” Erson said, though his voice was quieter and less harsh than it had been a moment ago.

“So I understand if you may still be anxious concerning the idea,” Pires said.

“I’m not so much anxious,” Erson said. Buck risked the quickest of looks up, and saw him shifting on his bench. Buck hoped he’d heard enough of what he’d said to ‘the queen’ in the guest bedroom. “I just have a number of things to consider.”

“Well, that is fair enough,” Pires said, “You do have a great deal resting on your shoulders every day. That must be stressful.”

There was a pause, and the sound of a finger tapping on the table. Finally, Erson said, “I do. Perhaps… Young man, Bucket, what sort of acts do you perform?”

Buck looked up, grinning. “Do you like fire juggling, your grace?”

Erson frowned. “That doesn’t sound very relaxing.”

“There’s the harpist we bring in. She’s very soothing. She’s cured three whole cases of tuberculosis, is what they say.” Buck nodded again, looking from Erson to Pires and back. “Shall I send word to her? Oh, there’s the poetry reading – I could seek out some particularly dull readers from the tavern nights this week! Send you right to sleep, they will.”

Erson tilted his head to the side. “I do have insomnia.”

Buck sprang to his feet. “Well, that’s settled! I’ll send my friends Rydone and Misene out scouting for the rest of the day! I mean, um, pretend I said something quieter.”

Erson shook his head, a smile slowly taking his lips. “Alright, fool, you do that.”

“Shall I inform your mother the queen?” Pires asked, shuffling the papers Buck had been working on.

“I think perhaps I should do that myself,” Erson said, standing up at a much more stately pace. “I will send a servant to arrange a meeting about the details of the feast.”

“To me?” Buck said, widening his eyes.

“No, to Pires,” Erson said, “Although you may be the servant. Until then, fool. Pires.” Erson nodded to them both and took his leave.

As soon as the door had safely thudded closed, Buck turned around to face Pires. She pursed her lips as she stood up, then burst into laughter as she wrapped Buck into a quick hug.

“Ah, that was wonderful,” she said.

“We’re back,” Buck agreed. He removed the bells from the handle and placed them carefully inside the bucket. Then he clapped his hands together and said, “Right, I’ve got to go write some really boring love poetry about why the prince might want to marry you.”