I awoke with a start in the morning and I breathed harshly for a moment. I looked up at the ceiling with tears in my eyes. I knew this was the sign from god that I had been waiting for. “You wish me to sacrifice my happiness to close the rift between humans and moths? Is that why I am here…?”

I felt overwhelmingly sad and relieved at the same time at such an epiphany.

I was given a purpose. I was given something grand to do with my life. But... I had to give up my own desires to achieve this grand purpose. I didn’t know why it was such an issue—I knew Caerwyn was too much a man of honor and morals to betray his vows, anyway, and he was the only man I had feelings for. He could never even touch me, and it hurt me immeasurably when I had to accept that. I had to let him go and get Paris to like me--maybe even love me, in order to free what was left of the moths.

I thanked God for the purpose he had given to me, and then my sister arrived on time to bathe and dress me after I had awakened from my dream.

“Gerta, please just listen to me for a moment…” I begged her as she scrubbed me down like usual while I sat in the bathwater.

“I will hear nothing from a woman who has never cared for our culture and prays to a foreign God.” Gerta replied firmly.

And I felt fire in my soul for the first time in my life—a fiery conviction to stand up for and defend myself. “You are a sorry woman for having no love or sympathy for a sister who was kidnapped for eight years only to escape and find her family dead—all but one who treats her as poorly as the humans who enslave her do. You will never know what I have experienced or how I feel. I wouldn’t wish these feelings on anyone.”

Gerta looked at me furiously for a moment. She had a fiery retort of her own--but then her expression mellowed a little. “I couldn’t stand the way you and Kieran got all of Daddy’s affections. I couldn’t stand him in general! He was married to so many women and he loved none of them deeply but yours and Kieran’s. I couldn’t stand you for never seeing how rotten he really was! And then you went about relishing all his gifts and affections while ignoring how abandoned the rest of us felt... It’s as if we had two different fathers as well as mothers.”

I shook my head. “I know he didn’t give you the affection you deserved but…”

“Get out.” Gerta commanded me. I stepped out of the tub and then she said after helping me into a lovely, cerulean gown, “I… Should not have been so cruel to you. You have suffered unduly—more than anyone I know… But I still can’t help but hate you. I know that makes me a black-hearted woman, but… I can’t help it.”

I looked at her sincerely. “I understand… I just wish—I wish you would change your mind. I have no friends other than Terry and it gets so lonely… I have had a hard time getting death out of my mind.”

Tears came unbidden to my eyes as they usually did. Ah! Why can't I stop crying! I would do anything to stop!

Gerta watched me intently, and then took a deep breath before saying, “a word of advice; no more tears. You must be strong if you hope to survive, Sister.” Gerta advised me firmly as tears relentlessly cascaded down my cheeks. “I have no intention of changing my mind… That’s just how I am. The gods may send me to the underworld for loathing you for your beauty and your femininity, but I can’t help it.”

Gerta left, then, and I took many deep breaths and prayed once again.

After all, I was about to go speak with the frightening king—my husband.

__

“You wish to ride into the city with me?” Paris asked me as I interrupted his private morning meeting with his advisors in his cabinet. They were looking over a detailed map of the kingdom set on a high table. “Why?”

“I am your queen—I wish to help in any way I can—even if… Even if it’s just by being there for you.” I told him and put a hand over his.

His advisors grinned and bit back laughter. He took his hand away from me with a flinch. “Very well.. you should come. It’s good that you want to get out of the castle, at least. Would you like to come see the newly built homes for the peasants?”

I nodded.

We set out together on horseback with a few guards trailing after us as we rode out from the castle. Paris' advisors set out with us to oversee the work of the moth slaves who would be constructing houses for peasants at the edge of the city.

We road down a long, winding, broken cobblestone path from the castle toward the city which was a pale silhouette, gently coming into view in the distance.

I wrapped my arms around Paris’ torso to avoid falling off—he truly wasn’t a fair rider, the ride was so bumpy!--and he realized that I was not riding like a lady should.

“You don’t know how to ride sidesaddle?” He asked as the wind screeched in our ears and nearly drowned out his voice.

“No… Moths have no need to ride. They have wings—only, mine stopped working…” I told him sorrowfully.

Paris was silent for a moment, and then he replied, “I’m sorry... But in any case, it is not befitting of a lady to ride like a man with her skirts flying up! I shall get a woman to teach you to ride sidesaddle.”

“Very well… Thank you.” I answered quietly. I didn’t understand why this was important to him, but I supposed I had no choice but to trust him.

As we rode further and further from the city, I was subjected, again, to the horrible sight of moth bodies littering the ground. I shielded my eyes and gasped. I could never get those images to leave my mind, and now I was being subjected to them again.

“Paris,” I sniffled. “Please give them a proper burial. Promise me you will.”

“I told them to have them cremated a week ago! Such incompetence!” Paris spat in derision.

“No! Not cremated! They must be buried so that earth god can bless them!” I begged him.

“…Very well, my queen. I am… Sorry I subjected you to this again.” Paris apologized.

I sniffled, but did not answer.

I noticed as we rode into the city that the state of the kingdom was so different… So human, from what it was before. There was hardly a trace of moth culture left. Where there used to be green grass and gigantic trees growing wild as far as the eye could see, there was now cold, ugly, gray stone that echoed beneath the horses feet as it trotted along with ugly, gray, human houses to match. All human kingdoms looked the same... There was no enchantment, no magic, just cold realism.

We dismounted near a collection of birck and mortar homes that were being built for peasants in the lower half of the city. Moths were slaving away and working as fast as they could--placing bricks on top of one another and smearing mortar on top of those bricks.

Almost all of the moths were starving and thin.

They all had slave collars on, and they all looked at me in contempt when they saw me.

I gasped in horror and clapped my hands to my mouth when I saw that nearly all their wings had been clipped.

One of the mothwomen heard my gasp and turned around. She growled, picked up a rock, and threw at me. “Whore queen! Abandoning your own people for glamor and safety! You should have stayed locked up in the king’s bedroom where you belong rather than come here!”

I took her insults and did not cry—mostly because I was beginning to think I had used all my tears up.

One of the other moths—a pitch black one that was lifting many bricks with powerful moth magic, and who made me shiver in apprehension—touched the woman’s shoulder and shook his head.

The black moth looked at me curiously and approached me and the king along with the human architect overseer who was watching the moths work.

The architect had a chain attached to the black moth’s slave collar and was dragging him along by it. I assumed this was standard procedure for all moths who had magic since they were more dangerous.

“Hello, Your Majesty.” The architect said to Paris. When he saw me, he smiled and added, “it’s good to see you too, My Lady.”

I nodded, not taking my eyes from the black moth, and he not taking his eyes from mine.

“This is our best worker, Morgan. He is something of a talented architect himself and made some clever revisions to my construction plans.” The architect said.

I didn’t like this moth. I saw trouble brewing in his menacing eyes. Black fear clouded my eyes when I looked upon him.

“Would you like to see the revisions? Make sure you approve of them?” The architect asked us.

“Yes. I’d like to learn all I can about the kingdom so I can be a competent king.” Paris replied.

I followed Paris, his advisors, and the architect to a little stone table set up in the midst of many new houses being built. I tried to listen carefully as the architect explained to us exactly how the houses were being built and exactly how much it was costing, but I couldn't concentrate. I kept looking at Morgan and couldn’t shake the feeling of fear churning in my stomach.

His eyes reminded me of the fiery human underworld, hell. The rest of the day was unremarkable, and I thankfully rode home with Paris unscathed.

But now, it is late at night, and I must stop writing and scaring myself with such thoughts! I have an early day tomorrow with a woman who wishes to teach me to ride sidesaddle.