Chapter 71: Door

The strange woman stepped through with her soldiers. Roland froze like a deer caught in headlights, while Gabe scrambled out of sight. The action pulled Roland's mind out of its stupor and he shifted to hide the boy's retreat. Him being caught was inevitable, as swords were already drawn at his throat, but there was no need for Gabriel to endure the treatment.

He hoped the boy would use the light to mark his way back to the tree he'd come from.

Actually, since Roland was not fully blinded by the doorway this time, he took a quick glimpse around him as it disappeared. Eyes all over in the darkness reflected it back at him mournfully. It was chilling.

And then gone. The doorway closed, leaving only the light of the lamp held by the woman as before. Roland doubted her eyes had adjusted quickly enough to the darkness to catch Gabriel's escape.

"How did you loose your bonds?" A soldier demanded as a blade pressed close against his neck.

"Now, now. Lower your weapons." The woman said. Immediately, they were gone, save one.

"But Your Majesty--" The voice cut off as her eyes slid towards the source in a menacing way. Then that blade, too, was gone.

"You wouldn't want to harm my grandson, would you?" She asked. "If that's what he is. Let us bring him to the light where we may better examine and question him. Come, Derek."

Roland did not respond to the name, instead pretending to look into the dark for a soldier of that name. A cruel smile twisted the queen's lips, and she turned with the lamp. He watched closely and saw her give a small snap with her fingers, though its sound was too weak to reach his ears.

The light broke the darkness, and he squinted. He would have to try and remember to see if snapping was indeed the trick. What a subtle thing if true; it was no wonder he hadn't previously noticed it.

Though the blades didn't touch his back, he could feel their threatening presence urging him to follow "her Majesty." The title had slowly sunk into his brain. Was this ageless magical woman really his grandmother? Surely a woman old enough to be his grandmother would look at least something of her age by now. Other than the white of her hair, the woman he followed could be his own age.

He hesitated before stepping through the portal, but whatever was on the other side had to be better than what lay in here. He glanced sideways. He really hoped Gabriel was going to make it to a landmark while the light briefly shined. He didn't want the child lost in the dark silence until someone returned to bring food and water, however often that happened.

It might not be often, since they had provided water skins instead of just ladles of liquid. He blanched at that thought. Maybe he should try to get him out now... but if they knew he cared about any of these people, the cruel woman Amelia, through Betty, had described wouldn't hesitate to leverage that affection against him.

He straightened his back. To an outsider his hesitation appeared to be fear of the glowing door and a decision to brave through it. He put a foot through and was instantly transported to a place that, while he'd never been to, was marvelously familiar. The sound of wind in the trees and a flowing stream met his ears like food to a starving man.

His eyes adjusted to the light and absorbed the sights and colors eagerly, to make up for any time in his life when he'd failed to appreciate the simplicity of vision and beauty.

He continued forward, following the woman to a tent where two tall, lean soldiers with spears waited and held back the flaps for them.

"Come, sit," She indicated a cushion that lay on the floor of the tent. A loose shirt and pants were resting on the cushion and he slipped them on quickly despite his shoulder's protests, grateful to finally be clothed again.

Roland sat, trying to take in his surroundings and tread carefully. He wondered briefly whether he should say as little as possible, or go on the offensive with questions to distract her from investigating into him as much. It was doubtful he could succeed at that since she held all the power of the conversation.

At least he wasn't going to be completely blindsided by any information she offered, thanks to Amelia. Maybe. Amelia only had the information that Betty had given her, and it's possible much had been forgotten over the years. Taking a deep breath, he braced himself.

"I did not properly introduce myself before, I'm afraid. I am Titania, Queen of Rhone." Despite her formal introduction, she sat rather informally near him, pouring two cups of tea from a teapot. She handed him one.

He gave a slight bow in thanks for the tea and in acknowledgement of her royal status. "Your Majesty." He held the teacup carefully. Would she drug him? She had poured her cup from the same teapot, and she was sipping hers now.

But, the poison could have been in his cup already, not in the teapot. She was staring at him with a questioning but calculating look on her face. Maybe he was overthinking this. If she wanted him dead, there were easier ways than this. He took a small drink of it, hoping it wasn't some sort of... he didn't actually know what magic herbs could do. Enslave him? Make him tell his secrets?

Titania put down her cup and he followed suit, glad to have it away from him. It had tasted normal, but he would rather not just down all of it on the assumption that it was harmless.

He tried to keep an expressionless face, but suddenly the pain in his shoulder became especially sharp and he winced, grasping at it as he gasped. She must have poisoned him after all.

He pressed hard on the wound to stem the bleeding he felt sure had restarted, but there was none of the telltale wet heat. He dared to lift his hand for a moment and saw... nothing. He lifted the loose collar of the shirt to look underneath. The wound was fading, nearly gone. He shook his head a bit. Was he delirious?

"I'm glad you enjoyed my tea," Titania mused. "It keeps me looking young, but it has other qualities." Her smile was understated and full of meaning, then slipped away. "I will ask you a few questions, and you will answer me truthfully or the cost will be your life. I will not tolerate lies. Do you understand?"

Roland gulped but maintained eye contact with her. He didn't doubt her word. She took his silence as comprehension and moved into her first line of questioning.

"Where were you raised?" He was grateful she started with something easy. The truth was easily verifiable and a lie could be quickly discovered. Trying to conceal the truth was not worth it... yet.

"Klain." He shrugged as if it should be obvious to her that a man dragged by wolves away from a Klain military camp would be from there.

"Who raised you?" Her eyes narrowed.

"An old man and his wife." Roland would like to avoid implicating them and gave as little detail as possible while remaining truthful. With any luck, Titania would assume an elderly couple would be harmless or already dead, and not worth her attention. He conveniently left out the part about his aunt.

"Where did you get that necklace?" She pointed accusingly at the charm that still hung around his neck. He decided to give the same answer as he gave her before.

"It was my mother's." This was information he'd already given her.

"What was her name?" She leaned forward. Roland blinked and his eyebrows came together.

"I don't know." Since learning of the tragic circumstances of his mother's passing, he felt a deep emptiness in shame that he did not even know the woman's name who had brought him into the world.

"What is YOUR name?" She asked pointedly.

"Roland." He knew it wasn't the answer she was looking for, but it wasn't a lie. Not really. Titania took a deep breath as one does when suppressing anger at a misbehaving child.

"Who is your father?"

"I never knew him." She looked at him sharply until he continued. "I was in an orphanage before the old couple took me in." Also not technically a lie. He had been there a short time.

She perused his face, calculating and cold. Then, suddenly, her face turned warm and she opened her arms, embracing him. He froze, completely unsure at how to react.

"My beloved," She said through tears, "My sweet grandson. Welcome home to me."

He stiffened, "What... what do you mean?"

She pulled back and looked into his eyes. Though hers remained inky black, they were nonetheless mesmerizing and had a subtle pull within their depths.

"Let me introduce you to your father."