Queen Marja reclined on a long, sturdy couch, flanked by several of her ladies-in-waiting. Ortson presumed that she had anticipated his news, as she was draped in a black gown and veil. What he could see of her eyes shimmered with tears. “What news, Mr. Ortson?” she asked him.
“A thousand pardons for the intrusion, Your Majesty. I have an announcement.” Weaver bowed as he stepped into the room. “It is as we feared. My lord and king is declared dead.”
“No!” cried Marja. She turned away from the guildmaster and stared out the window at the falling darkness.
“Ah, I’m afraid so. Uh.” Ortson shifted uncomfortably when he glanced at the queen.
Marja faced the window in a pantomime of wistful sorrow, but her face was set in a tight smile, and her eyes darted back and forth as though reading words written in the evening clouds. “Our destiny was written in the stars. It’s just like Gaelan and Yvette,” she whispered. “Or Madren and Haela, or Edward and Bel—”
“Your Majesty? Are you… are you well?” said Ortson uneasily. Hadn’t the king mentioned a couple of these stories at some point? He was sure Johan had made a comment about Marja’s affection for tragedy.
A couple of the royal attendants smiled apologetically and shrugged, as though the queen’s enraptured monologue wasn’t entirely unexpected.
“And just like those poor souls, Johan and I are star-crossed lovers who cannot be apart,” said Marja, staring out the window. “They say that not even death can stop love.”
“Well, not in a metaphorical sense,” said Ortson.
“No. Not a metaphor. It’s true.”
Ortson winced. “Majesty, I believe there are laws against that sort of thing.”
“I know what I must do!” Resolve crystalized the queen’s smile. Her fervent stare could cut diamonds.
“Announce the king’s death to the people?” tried Ortson, in the hopes that the unmoored conversation was drifting back to the general vicinity of sanity.
Marja turned to them and grinned. “We need a snake!”
“A… snake, Majesty?” asked a lady-in-waiting.
“Not any old kind, mind you,” the queen admonished her. “I think Haela used a swamp viper…”
Weaver’s brows shot up. The ballad of Madren and Haela’s was regarded as one of the greatest romances on Arth, but it had a body count that rivaled the grimmest battle sagas. “Your Majesty! Surely not!” he blurted. “This cannot be the way!”
The queen paused to reconsider. “Well, I do hate snakes. And I hear the venom is quite dreadful. Well, then a dagger—mmm. But I don’t want it to hurt…” She drummed her fingers on the armrest of her chair.
“My queen, I beg you! Come back to your senses?” cried a lady-in-waiting.
“Baker!” said the queen. “Where is my royal baker?”
A gray-haired Halfling stepped from the pack of attendants. “Majesty, please, listen to Mr. Ortson—”
“Baker! You will make me poisoned tea cakes!”
The royal baker shook her head. “Majesty, no! I could never—”
“Oh, it will be simple, my dear.” Marja waved a dismissive hand at the baker. “Tell the apothecary I want it to be painless. And nothing that will make me spasm or anything—I don’t want to be making a funny face at the funeral. Then put whatever he concocts in the icing of some tea cakes.”
“But, Your Highness—”
“Don’t you see?” said Marja, staring up at the ceiling as though it were a starry sky. “This is how it was meant to be! This is the end of my story with Johan!”
“But… but I could never harm Your Majesty!” blurted the royal baker.
“Baker. Dearest baker. Don’t think of it as hurting me,” Marja told the shaking Halfling. “Think of it as helping me find my true love once more, beyond the mortal veil!”
The Halfling shook her head, “No, my queen, I really cannot—”
“One of us is eating poison tonight,” Marja growled.
“Lemon or raspberry icing?” asked the Halfling.
Ortson and the royal attendants threw themselves before the queen as the royal baker scurried away. They implored her to think of the people, to put the needs of the nation first, to not succumb to grief in the darkness. The ladies-in-waiting assured Marja that she would find love again. The advisors told her the palace needed her guidance.
Their words flowed over the starstruck queen like waves over a boulder. Marja sat, unmoved and unmoving, her eyes locked on the clouds outside her window. She gave no sign that she was aware of her surroundings at all until the baker returned with a cartload of tea cakes, each frosted with a delicately piped skull. A small placard placed at the front of the tray read: “DEADLY POISON. DO NOT EAT. PLEASE.” in a transparently desperate attempt by the baker to stop the queen. But Marja ignored the sign and clapped her hands together as the deadly pastries rolled before her.
“And now, the hour of our reunion is at hand. I am coming, dearest Johan!” Marja put a hand to her forehead and gave an exaggerated swoon as the baker pushed the cart forward. Ignoring the pleading of the assembled ladies and servants, Marja selected a pastry with pink frosting and held it up for consideration.
“The love of my life, the light of my soul, is gone!” she declared to the tea cake. “With nothing left for me in this world, I must leave it, and meet my dear Johan in the next. And so with one bite, mmph, I… with two bites—mrph— I bid… I…”
“Majesty, no.” Ortson’s breath caught in his throat as he watched Marja unmake herself with growing gusto.
“With two… I mean, three cakes—erph mmmh—I bid the world—mpprh—farewell. This world holds nothing for me but one more cake… mph… I mean two more… and my memories of sweeter days, my love for Johan, and these four cakes and… and…”
Marja lost track of her monologue and lurched forward. She attacked the remaining tea cakes with gusto, sending a spray of crumbs and toxic frosting across the table. The queen made it halfway through the tray before she gave a little choking noise, looked up with unfocused eyes, and flopped face down on top of the remaining pastries.
The crowd watched the spectacle in stunned silence. Weaver Ortson stepped toward the fallen monarch slowly. With a deep breath he lifted her arm and felt her limp wrist. Then he turned back to the royal attendants and said, “I… uh… I have another announcement.”
