“Do you like games, Ambassador Grand?”

It was hardly the response I'd expected to hear from the High Queen Youkara Seradon, especially after the accusation I'd just made. 'Guards, eliminate this man,' was more like it, or, 'Guards, take this man to the dungeons.' But games? Unless she was speaking of torture—and calling torture a game wasn't at all strange if what I'd heard about her was true—I simply could not conceive of what she meant, whether there was some hidden meaning behind the question or whether taking it at face value would be best.

There were, however, at the very least fifty guards stationed at varying lengths around the throne room, and I'd heard many stories of this queen being given to random bouts of anger; whatever she actually meant by the question, that did help my decision of what to say considerably. It was unfortunate that my mind was so shocked at still being alive, though; my response came rather slowly and made me sound quite foolish.

“Well...yes, sure. W-who doesn't like a good game? Not I...I like a good game. I, ah...I love a good game.” My smile made me look a fool, too, I just knew it, and the image was completed when I added hurriedly, “Your Majesty.”

I half-expected she'd sic the guards on me just for that, and that my shocked mind would be assured that death had only been delayed, not staved off, but no such thing happened. Instead, she smiled. Smiled! And not one of those, 'Oh, such a charming idiot you are; I'm going to enjoy torturing you' smiles, either, but a real, genuine smile. Seven realms, she actually looked friendly!

“Wonderful!” She chimed, her voice all bells and honey. Clapping suddenly, a veiled servant stepped up from the shadows behind the elaborate throne, eyes lowered and hands clasped behind her back. She bowed low and stayed there, saying nothing but apparently waiting for orders. “Kasha, darling, take Ambassador Grand to the Guest Quarters and find him something appropriate to change into.”

The slave bowed even lower and then rose, coming down the steps of the throne towards me. I frowned, holding up my hands and stuttering, “Y-your Majesty, please, wait a moment! Forgive me if I'm being too forward, but what sort of game am I going to be playing? I would very much like to know beforehand.”

For a moment, the queen's crimson eyes flashed. My heart leaped in response, fear pumping through me and making me tense. She didn't call the guards, though; instead, another smile pasted itself onto her face, this one not quite reaching her eyes. “But of course, Ambassador. Every player deserves to know the game they're going to be playing, hm? Quite simply, you will be answering a series of questions about my court.”

I nodded slowly, and then hesitated as the servant began to move towards the door and the queen turned her head away from me. Seven realms, I knew I had no right to speak; I'd never had one, not in my accusation and certainly not in these questions. I'd been lucky so far, though, and I couldn't just go into this game blind; I had to chance another question. “Your Majesty...” Her eyes returned to my own, and this time I knew she was angry with me. She didn't bother to mask the unhappiness on her face, painted lips pursed in a scowl and crimson eyes harsh, condescending. It took effort not to simply fall to the marble floor and grovel before her, faced with that look and the rumors of what she did to people who displeased her, but I held my ground and continued to speak. “Please forgive me. Please. I mean no disrespect. This is my last question. Would you deem to tell me the stakes of this game?”

Not a moment passed before she replied, her voice entirely devoid of friendliness, “If you should answer my questions correctly, I will agree to your ridiculous demands and be put to trial in your kingdom. If you should not, I will cut out your blaspheming, arrogant tongue, as is my standard punishment for situations such as these.”

I think she must have seen the color drain from my face, because she smiled one last time as I turned to leave the room with the veiled servant. It was a smile that left me chilled the entire way to the Guest Quarters, thin and cruel and filled to the brim with ill intent.


When I returned to the throne room sometime later, it was in a wholly new outfit. The servant had chosen something traditional to the region, a dark blue robe sashed with gold and imprinted with a golden smoke design; unused to wearing anything other than pants and vest, I felt awkward walking across the marble floor. Why the queen had wanted me to change was beyond me, but I wasn't about to ask her anymore questions, not with the look she'd given me as I'd left.

I was surprised, though, by my lack of utter terror as I approached her. The only thing I even remotely feared was her having the same chilling smile on as before; the fact that my tongue was at stake somehow didn't bother me at all, probably because it was only my tongue, and not my life. Only my tongue seems like a rather morbid way to put it, but with the stories I'd heard about the things this queen did to people not in her favor, I counted myself lucky.

Doubly lucky, in fact; as I finally stepped up to the foot of the throne and bowed, I could see that the queen had replaced her cruel smile with one of delight. I didn't know whether it was fake, but I forced myself to think it wasn't.

“Ambassador Grand,” she chimed with a small chuckle, her eyes twinkling. “My, you look very good. Blue and gold suit you well. Have you ever considered having your tailors make you a Zansian wardrobe?”

I had, in fact, not. It was my personal opinion that the robes Zansian males wore made them look too much like women. That wasn't what came out of my mouth, though: “I have, Your Majesty. The robes I saw in the Guest Quarters were beautiful. Perhaps you could...well, perhaps you could send someone to my tailors with designs? After all of this. ”

Her smile widened, but she said nothing. I shifted my weight, suddenly uncomfortable, and waited. Just when I thought she wasn't going to reply at all, she murmured, “Perhaps so, Ambassador. Perhaps so. Are you ready to play my game?”

“Yes,” I answered without really believing myself. As an ambassador I had studied the history and policies of Zansi extensively; I dare say I knew the court as well as the servants, perhaps even the queen herself. I knew what to say. But I couldn't shake the feeling that I was getting myself into something more than what I'd been told. I hoped not.

“I will ask you five questions, Ambassador Grand. The stakes have already been reviewed,” For a moment, her smile turned malicious again and I stepped away from the throne in response. “So we will begin now. First question. What was the name of my mother, and what is she famous for?”

My heart skipped a beat. What was...really? That's all she was going to ask? The name and fame of her mother were well-known to anyone, in Zansi and beyond! I replied without hesitation. “The Lady Morganna was responsible for the uprising of your race and the consequent overthrowing of your oppressors. She established Zansi as an independent kingdom.”

“Correct, Ambassador Grand. Second question. What is the name of my husband, and what is his position in my court?”

Again, I felt surprise overtake me at the simplicity of the question. “The Honorable King Karosi leads your armies, Your Majesty.”

“Correct, Ambassador. Third question. How many territories of this realm are allied with my own in the eradication of humans?”

This time my reply came without thought. “Three, Your Majesty, including the recent alliance forged with the Beasts.”

“Very good, Ambassador. Fourth question. What is my decree concerning the passing of the title of King or Queen between generations?”

I had to think for a moment on that one, but I couldn't help but feel relieved that she'd asked something that wasn't so mind-bogglingly simple. “The first child of the reigning king and queen inherits the throne, regardless of gender.” I paused, then added, “If the reigning king and queen have no children, the closest female relative to the queen is chosen, whether that be her sister, cousin, or brother's daughter.”

The queen clapped. I offered her a weak smile. “Excellent, Ambassador Grand! It would seem we've come to the final question. What is the Garou?”

I blinked, once more confused. Certainly it wasn't a question commoners would be able to answer, and even some servants of the court. But did she really expect an ambassador of a rival territory not to know? “The Garou is the picture gallery containing portraits of all former rulers of Zansi, Your Majesty. It records the history of your people.”

Now she actually looked impressed. Settling back into the throne and crossing one leg daintily over the other under her white gown, she regarded me. I shifted. There was no way I had answered that question wrongly. None! Why was she staring at me? Was she surprised I'd answered all five questions correctly? Was she wondering what she was going to do, now that I'd won her game, now that she was going to be put to trial in my kingdom? Was she trying to find a way to get out of it, perhaps? I wasn't going to make any compromises, if she offered them. I had won the game—I know I had!—and she herself had named the stakes. Even a queen like her wouldn't be so outrageous as to change her mind! Would she?

“Correct, Ambassador Grand,” she said finally, her voice soft. “Correct. Your kingdom would be proud, I'm sure.” Triumph began to well within me. I smiled. Then she spread her arms, and a mournful look came over her face and a matching tone entered her voice. “I am afraid you have lost, though.”

The words took a moment to settle in my mind. I opened my mouth and closed it, wanting to say something but unable to. Altogether too soon a wave of outrage struck me, and then, forgetting entirely the guards around the room and to whom I was speaking, I shouted, “You've got to be joking me! I answered every question correctly! You told me I did!”

The queen waved a hand dismissively, ignoring the guards around the room who were suddenly much more attentive. “Yes, yes,” she said, sounding bored. “You did answer those questions correctly. A commendable job, really. But you missed something else.”

“I...what? There were only five questions!”

“Yes, there were only five questions.” Now she sounded like she was speaking to a child, patient and slow. “But if you truly knew my policies you would have stopped me when I told you the stakes. Cutting out your tongue is hardly the punishment for losing one of my games, not when you accused me of murder in my own court.”

Silence. My eyes bulged, and, shaking, I screamed, “That's ridiculous! Why would I mention something like that before the game started?!”

“Well, you've certainly been arrogant enough to make an accusation against me in my own court, alone, without any sort of authority or even permission from your superiors to do so. One more stupid move wouldn't have been surprising.” The queen inspected her red nails, not even looking at me now. “What did you expect, Ambassador? This is your own fault. I could have done worse, you know. I am queen. My court and policies are subject to change at my will—and yet I was kind enough to keep them stable while you answered the questions. I could very easily have changed my laws while you were speaking, so that you would have answered every question incorrectly, or I could have had you killed the moment your filthy mouth dared to accuse a queen as simply as a peasant. Wouldn't that have been just terrible?”

“You...you...” My rage and shock slowly began to burn away, leaving a numbness in their wake. I recognized that numbness as cold horror, and though I tried to stop it, it managed to seep into my voice. “What...what's the punishment for losing, then...?”

“Death.” She said it smoothly, easily. My heart sank. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't think straight anymore. I couldn't think at all, really. But I managed one more question as I lowered my head for a moment, my wide eyes catching sight of the blue of my outfit.

“W-why did you have me change?”

“Oh!” I glanced up at her, feebly. She was smiling again, and this time it was with a triumphant, sinister delight. Her voice was poisoned honey. “I thought you might like to be wearing something nice for your execution.”