Guarded by Kim Fielding

walls. It wasn’t long before a door swung open and a woman stepped into the room. She wasn’t what Volos had expected. For one thing, a detailed rendering of a flowering vine crept from her neck up one cheek. Volos had never seen a tattoo before but vaguely remembered his father once mentioning that Kozari nobility applied ink to their bodies. The queen was in her sixties and had probably never been beautiful, but her clear eyes showed keen intelligence. Her trousers, blouse, and long vest were obviously made of expensive cloth yet were mostly unadorned. Her gray hair formed a nimbus of tight curls around her face.
    “Prince Berhanu,” she said and curtseyed. “I am so relieved to see you.” She spoke in heavily accented and quite formal Wedey.
    Berhanu’s answering bow was very deep. As battered and poorly dressed as he was, there was no mistaking him for anything but a prince. “Your Majesty. Thank you for agreeing to speak to me.”
    “Of course.” She frowned. “I cannot properly express my regrets over the treatment you have received in my country. I know you understand why I could not act more directly. But please understand how pained I am at what you have endured.”
    After a very brief pause, Berhanu bowed again. “I do understand. And I’d like you to know that I owe my life, in part, to the kindness of some of your subjects.” He gave an unhappy little smile. “Every country has its villains and its heroes.”
    She trailed her fingertips along an ivory-inlayed tabletop. “And speaking of heroes…?” She gave Volos a significant look.
    Berhanu turned to look at Volos, who tensed. But then Berhanu shocked him with a warm smile. “I apologize, My Lady. Let me present my bodyguard, Volos Perun.”
    Volos felt huge and shabby. Rather belatedly, he dropped to one knee, but the queen quickly motioned for him to stand. She gave him a very close look, and then her eyes widened. “Perun! Your father was Rok Perun!”
    “I… Yes, Your Majesty.”
    “I should have seen it immediately. You look so much like him.” The corners of her lips twitched. “I had a terrible crush on him when I was a girl.”
    “You… you knew my father?”
    “Not well, but yes. He was one of my mother’s advisors. He was very young for that position, actually, but I believe he inherited it. And he had a reputation for plain speaking. If more people had listened to him, a great deal of pain could have been avoided.”
    Volos didn’t know how to respond to that. His tongue felt thick and stupid, so he nodded awkwardly. Then he risked a glance at Berhanu, who was giving him an odd, unreadable look.
    “So many sorrows,” said Queen Draga. “But perhaps due to the bravery of both of you, we can avoid yet more.”
    “That’s my hope too,” said Berhanu.
    “Good. And I must apologize again, but I was in the middle of a meeting. I think perhaps you might like some rest and refreshment after the ardors of your journey. Will you accept my hospitality? This evening we can begin our discussions in earnest.”
    “Thank you, My Lady.”
    “Good. Please wait here. In a few minutes someone will come to take you to your rooms.”
    But before she could leave, Berhanu held up a hand. “My Lady? I’d prefer it if Volos stayed with me. He can translate for me if necessary. And he’s my guard.”
    “Of course.”
    A brief round of bowing and curtseying accompanied the queen’s departure. Afterward, Berhanu crossed the room to the window, leaned against the sill, and looked out at the thick afternoon mist. Not only did Volos have no idea what the prince might be thinking, he wasn’t all that sure of his own thoughts, which were jumbled and confused.
    “Do you think she’ll be sympathetic to my arguments?” Berhanu asked, still facing away.
    “I don’t know. She seemed… well-disposed.”
    “Maybe. But you never know with royalty. Quite often we say or do one thing and we mean something else entirely.”
    Volos was still