Chasing Dragons - Laurel

This is an out of context chapter but all you really need to know is - the Crown Princess is missing. This is the first chapter from Laurel's perspective, and I want opinions on how she is a narrator, and how the other characters around her feel!

Jeff wasn’t as good a kisser as Laurel hoped he would be.

She put her hands on the footman’s black silk lapels and pushed him away from her gently. His hands let go their loose grip on her waist. “Is something wrong, milady?”

Laurel tipped her face away from him and to the corniced ceiling of the Queen’s parlour, moving her mouth from side to side as she tried to think of an excuse. “No, Jeff. Everything is perfect. Thank you for the tea.”

“But-“

“That will be all.”

He only half-bowed, as Laurel tried very hard to be haughty and aloof, neck outstretched, not quite meeting his gaze. “Milady,” he repeated again, his tongue stumbling on the word like his lips had stumbled on her mouth.

“Yes?”

“You won’t… you won’t…”

“Tell anyone?” She met him with her most direct stare, one she had seen the Queen use a thousand times, and had been trying to emulate for years. “No.” Her voice and expression softened, she couldn’t help it. “No, don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. I’d be in as much trouble as you.”

He nodded, and swallowed, the bump of his throat bobbing as he did so, and retreated across the thick carpet, around the maze of spindly tables and chairs and slipped out the door, leaving Laurel alone with the Queen’s tea tray. The clock struck the hour in tinny tones.

Every single day, she met the Queen at this time of the afternoon, sometimes alone, sometimes with the Queen’s own ladies-in-waiting, but every single day, the Queen made her wait. It wasn’t that she was late, Queen Anneliese was never late, but Laurel knew she loved the feeling of having people wait on her. Laurel wasn’t allowed to pour the tea until she arrived, and the Queen always had the first cup, and Laurel was allowed the second. It was always too strong for her tastes by then and she would drop two sugar cubes into it, and the Queen would watch her with her steel gaze and Laurel’s hand would tremble just the slightest bit as she replaced the sugar tongs on the tea tray.

Laurel sighed, thinking of Jeff waiting outside the door waiting for the Queen to arrive. She had been wanting to kiss him, with his big dark eyes and soft voice, for a long time. Laurel always felt a little guilty for kissing servants. A stable boy lost his job last summer for kissing Laurel, and Laurel hated that fact. But she couldn’t go without kissing, or being held in someone’s arms. And Prince Sebastian had not exactly been forthcoming. Jeff had seemed so promising every single day that he brought the tea into the parlour for her and the Queen. Laurel had dreamt about his arms holding her tight and his mouth caressing hers. But he had kissed like the nervous, frightened boy that, in reality, he probably was. Kissing Laurel Sigrid was dangerous business. Even Laurel knew that.

Laurel waited, hands on the back of a brocade-covered chair, struggling not to put a hand in her mouth and bite her nails. It was five past, nearly ten past. Steam had stopped rising from the teapot. Laurel chewed on the inside of her cheek, wondering what had become of the Queen.

Just as she was tempted to go and make inquiries, the door was swung open by Jeff’s hand, and the Queen strode in, her dark skirts billowing around her like stormclouds. Above the violet bodice, the Queen seemed even paler than usual.

“I have had worrying news,” she said, as the door was closed behind her. She had a letter grasped in her hands, slightly creased from reading. “I have requested my husband come to meet us here.”

“I hope nothing too serious,” Laurel said, carefully constructing the response.

“We shall see.” The Queen was seething. “Where is he?” she muttered, quietly enough that perhaps she thought Laurel couldn’t hear her. Samina’s ruling monarch took his time as much as his wife, and he had every right to, even if the Queen seemed to forget that sometimes.

“May I offer Your Majesty some tea?” Laurel asked.

The Queen glanced at the tea tray. “Yes, yes, I suppose so.”

Laurel picked up the pot – careful not to touch its still-scalding side, and poured the Queen a cup, then handed her the cup and saucer, careful not to let them rattle against each other. The Queen took it and perched, still restless, on the edge of her usual seat. It was the tallest chair in the room, covered in gold, with mahogany clawed feet.

Laurel poured her own cup and sat opposite her, taking a gulp so she wouldn’t have to talk. It was hot and bitter and burnt her tongue.

Before the silence stretched too long, the door opened, and from outside, Jeff’s voice called, “His Majesty, the King.”

Normally the King wasn’t much for announcements, but it was so rare for him ever to venture to his wife’s quarters that the footman must have thought it necessary. Laurel jumped up – teacup nearly capsizing, and spilling its contents onto her saucer and fingers. She hissed in pain, just enough for the Queen to give her a most disdainful look as the King entered.

The King ambled into the room, and behind him, a figure that made Laurel’s eyes light up. Her brother George, in his steel armour and red cloak stepped into the room behind the King. But George’s sombre expression suddenly set her heart thumping. It took a lot to make Sir George Sigrid look that serious about anything.

“I trust you’ve heard, then,” Anneliese said, not looking around.

“I have,” the King said, grabbing the back of the couch and catching his breath, the air whistling as it left his mouth. George approached and helped the King around to sit down. Anneliese watched with the same distaste as she did most things. “Did they send two birds?”

“Presumably in case one didn’t make it.”

Laurel, sitting down again and having wiped the tea off her fingers, let her gaze swing from one monarch to another. “May – may I ask what’s happened?”

“We have had news from Avery’s Academy,” the King said. “Our daughter has not been seen since eleven o’clock this morning.”

Laurel clenched her jaw to stop it from dropping. The Queen seemed remarkably unperturbed, taking another sip of tea.

“It’s – it’s only been five hours,” Laurel suggested. “Perhaps she went for a walk or-“

“The heir to the throne does not simply go for a walk for five hours,” Anneliese said. “The heir to the throne should never, ever be unaccounted for. What the women in that school are doing I do not know.” She tipped her teacup up and drained its contents in a single gulp, then threw the porcelain cup and saucer down on a side table, staring at her husband. “I knew we never should have sent her there.”

The King was even more ashen-faced than usual. “While I am concerned, there is a possibility she is unscathed,” he said, weighing his words. “After all, Alicia is eighteen, and I’m sure our dear Miss Sigrid can attest to making rash decisions at that age.” He set his twinkly gaze on her.

“I’m only seventeen, sire,” Laurel reminded, but her face heated up at the thought of having kissed a footman not half an hour ago.

The last time Laurel had seen Princess Alicia was a glimpse of her when the Avery girls last came to Parliament. They hadn’t actually spoken, Alicia was too busy being bundled into a carriage, and giggling away with that insipid Astrid Race. Alicia had spotted Laurel on the other side of the lawn, and given her lady-in-waiting the tiniest of waves, then she was nothing but a tail of silver hair disappearing through the carriage door.

“I am perfectly sure she’s unscathed. She’s probably run off with the knight,” Anneliese said, arching an eyebrow.

“I can send Sir Nathaniel a message if you like,” Sir George offered from where he stood behind the King, ever-vigilant, even in the Queen’s parlour.

“Don’t bother.” The Queen waved a hand dismissively. “She’ll be back by nightfall, I’m sure of it.”

Laurel bit her lip and struggled not to meet George’s eye in the silence that followed, until the King finally asked, “What makes you so sure, my dear?”

The Queen groaned. “You know what she’s like. Flighty. I’m surprised this has never happened before, to be perfectly honest. But I will be writing a strongly worded reply to that headmistress Avery about this. It’s ridiculous – how can they not hold onto one of their students?”

The King held up a finger. “That may be the case, but we must also consider the idea that there may be other motives behind this.”

“Do you think the Islanders are behind it?” The Queen asked. She had at last relaxed back in her chair, a hand clasping each arm. The fingers of her right hand tapped against it, and with every tap came a tiny shower of golden sparks. The Queen always kept her magic at her fingertips, it was widely known, but Laurel wondered how many people suspected that right here, in such an intimate setting, she would still be displaying it.

“It is possible,” King Sinclair said, running a hand over his white beard. “It is possible… but I would be surprised. In general, they have been very happy with the way negotiations are running. In fact, I would rather wager it was an unhappy mainlander expressing their displeasure with me.”

The Queen let out a howl of laughter. “Yes, one of our extremely wild and untamed mainlander lords or ladies – who do you think it was? Ribbon? Pillory? Just wait, Sinclair. Alicia will have gone off on some stupid teenage whim and all this worry will be for nothing.”

“If you say so, my dear,” the King said. He motioned for George to help him up. George offered him a gauntleted hand, and the King pulled himself to a standing position. “All the same, Sir Sigrid, do you think you could get a message to Sir Bolt?”

George nodded. “But sire – a thought…”

The King nodded.

“Nat only left the Palace this afternoon, and he told me he and Charlie were heading East. Now maybe he sent the Squire off by himself – or maybe they’ve gone off in some strange arrangement-“ Laurel squeezed her eyes shut shocked at her own brother’s lack of decorum, “-but I hardly think that he and Alicia have eloped. Not today, at any rate.”

“That’s true,” the King said, “even still, I think he might like to know the news. Unless, Anneliese, you told him already?”

Anneliese snorted. “I don’t have time to write messages to knights,” she said.

“Sire, another thought-“

The King nodded again.

“Perhaps, if I got word to Bolt and Ribbon, I could meet them and we could search for the Princess?”

Anneliese crumpled the letter in question in her hands and tossed it on the as yet unlit grate. “Sir Sigrid, if there is somebody out there stealing away members of the royal family, do you really think having the King down a bodyguard is in any way helpful?”

“It was just a suggestion,” George began, in that innocent, big-hearted way he had that half the world found endearing, and the other half found frustrating.

“And you are just a knight. Know your place.” Anneliese rolled her eyes and shook her head.

The King’s beard bristled, and he turned from his wife to his bodyguard. “I think that’s an excellent idea, Sir Sigrid. Thank you.”

“Sinclair-“

“I trust George with my own life, and therefore, I trust him with my daughter’s. Surely you want somebody trustworthy searching for her?”

“I think it’s a waste of time and talent,” the Queen said. “But whatever you think is best. I suppose I shall see you at dinner.”

“I suppose you shall.”

George cast a look over his shoulder at Laurel as he opened the door for the King, and they left the two females alone in the parlour, and Laurel alone to suffer under the Queen’s scrutiny.

“Has – has Prince Sebastian been told the news?” she asked.

“Not yet. He is still in his lessons. I will inform him after.”

Laurel fought to keep her hands in her lap, stop herself from biting a nail. The Queen’s fingers continued to tap, golden magic falling like sparkling raindrops to the floor.

All of a sudden she stood up, walked a few steps to the fireplace, and with a blast of magic, set the grate ablaze. Laurel was transfixed by the sight of the distressing letter curling and crumbling into black ash.

After a few minutes of them both watching the fire, the Queen said, “Oh, and we had three cancellations for his birthday today, so you shall have to adjust the seating charts.” She said it so casually, as if her daughter hadn’t simply vanished into mid-air.

Laurel fought to keep her expression neutral. “Of course, Your Majesty,” she replied.

Laurel had learnt years ago not to say anything else.