Queen of Sorrows--Part Three, Chapter Four

[Evie]

Previous chapter: https://rhemuthcastle.com/index.php/topic,3486.0.html


Chapter Four


June 17, 1465
Rhemuth Castle
A guest bedchamber
An hour before dawn

Lady Marija had only managed some intermittent sleep since she, Dmitri, and the Queen had been escorted to a bedchamber in the unfamiliar environs of Rhemuth Castle in the late night hours after the emergency Council meeting. Dmitri still slept soundly on the truckle bed beside her, enjoying blissful ignorance of his father's death for hopefully a few hours longer. Adémar had not been the most attentive of fathers, busy as he was with very important matters of state, but he had still been fond of their children. He had grieved in his own way after the death of their Damaris, becoming more hot-tempered and surly for a time, and if he had not been quite the source of strength and comfort to herself that she might have hoped for afterwards, at least he had felt very motivated to ensure justice had been served to Lady Viktorija, whose jealousy of Marija had apparently inspired Viktorija to conspire with one of the newly-hired cooks at the dacha to poison her children. Marija had been surprised by this discovery at the time, but the evidence of the plot had been confirmed by finding it in her spiteful rival's memories, or so Adémar had assured her later. Marija was merely human; who was she to question the accuracy of Deryni methods of questioning?

Much more recently, she had begun to wonder if perhaps Adémar had been mistaken. Perhaps the wrong rival had been sent to the executioner's block after all? But it had hardly seemed to serve a purpose to bring the matter up again at such a late date; after all, poor Viktorija's head could hardly be restored to her, not to mention that Marija still wouldn't have put the deed past her, had Viktorija possessed the necessary intelligence and cunning to carry out such a plot. And Adémar never liked to have his mistakes pointed out to him. That would have been a certain way of turning his affections back to Jesaminda.

She wept quietly into her pillow for her lost love, but not so quietly as to be unaware of another sound stirring in the adjoining bedchamber. A soft, almost silent tread of footsteps that made her briefly fear that whatever assassin had ended Adémar's life might have somehow followed the three of them to Rhemuth, meaning to make an end to them as well. But then she saw the faint flicker of candlelight through the crack in the door and heard the faint scratch of a quill on paper or parchment, and forced herself to relax. It was just the Queen, though why she was awake at such an hour Marija could not guess, much less what matter was so urgent that she felt the need to write it down before any light from the rising sun could even make its way through the closed wooden shutters and the velvet curtains shrouding the windows.

The candlelight went out, and a few moments later, the Queen emerged from her room. Marija could only make out a dark silhouette at first before the Queen lit an orb of very faint handfire, even dimmer than the candle's glow had been, barely bright enough to light her way through the room. She stopped at a sideboard, silently placing something flat upon it, then quietly exited the apartment.

#

June 17, 1465
Coroth Castle
The Portal Room
Dawn

The two guards in the Coroth Castle portal room were briefly startled by the appearance of an unfamiliar slender youth suddenly appearing on their portal stone, but the young man held up his hands, palms facing them, to signify that he was unarmed. Still, they approached with caution, one of the guards extending a swift mental probe and encountering tight yet somewhat familiar shields. He had never encountered these particular shields before, but he was familiar enough with their general pattern–this was a Haldane standing before him. After the briefest of moments, those shields lowered, even as the new arrival flipped a ringed hand downwards to show the emblem engraved on the face of the ring.

"Bloody–I mean, welcome to Coroth, Your Majesty!" said the Deryni guard, looking quite flustered as he took a quick step backwards, then belatedly recalled proper etiquette and bowed over the extended hand instead, slightly off balance physically as well as mentally. Queen Miranda of Orsal and Tralia stepped off the portal stone, and the guards instinctively glanced behind her to see if the Duke had returned as well. He had not.

"I realize you are not Hortic subjects, but in the name of the longstanding alliance between Corwyn and my son's kingdom, I am requesting your assistance nonetheless. I am in need of swift passage to Horthánthy. How soon do you think a skiff could get me there?"

"Um...."  The guard considered his predicament. "It's not safe anywhere in Orsal or Tralia for you at the moment, Madam!"

"It's not safe anywhere in Orsal or Tralia for my children right now either, and that includes the present Hort," she replied, starting to walk past them towards the stairs leading up to the exit.

"My lady!" he protested in a pained voice, "We wish we could help, but if the Duke finds out we've hired a skiff and captain to send the Princess Royal of Gwynedd off into God-knows-what sort of fate, he'd skin us alive! Please, won't you wait here until he's sent word back that the situation there has been contained?!"

She stopped on the bottom step, turning slightly to look at him. "I'm afraid I can't. I've been away for far too long already. My children need me." Glancing at the other guard, she gave both men a sympathetic smile. "I'm quite certain both of you look much nicer with your skins intact, so I will arrange for my own passage. If need be, please feel free to tell Joscelin that the Queen of Orsal and Tralia is a mule-headed woman who can't be reasoned with. I'm sure he's quite familiar with what it's like to quarrel with a Haldane."

#

June 17, 1465
Rhemuth Castle
The King's Bedchamber
An hour after dawn

King Nicholas and Queen Catalina were awakened by someone pounding on the bedchamber door. From just outside of it, they heard Oisin's alarmed voice say "Allow me, Your Highness!" Catalina glanced briefly at her husband, utterly baffled, as he silently crept out of bed and slid his belt knife out of the scabbard still hanging on the belt he had worn the night before, which hung on a peg nearby.

As he did so, the door opened, the King's squire carefully keeping his eyes averted from the curtained bed in case the Queen happened to have been caught not quite dressed for company. "His Highness Prince Camber!" he announced hastily.

Camber pushed past him, a sure sign of his extreme agitation. "Alixa's missing!" he blurted out without preamble.

"Alixa's...what?" Colin stared back at him uncomprehendingly, only belatedly remembering to lower the dagger he was brandishing at his brother.

Catalina slipped out of bed, still dressed in her nightgown to the squire's relief–Camber was well beyond noticing such details–and reached for her giornea for additional modesty, belting it swiftly around her waist as she awaited his explanation.

Camber took a deep breath, doing his best to regather his composure and arrange his thoughts. "After the emergency Council last night, I returned to Joux and caught a few hours of sleep. At dawn, Lady Marissa of Kiltuin opened Queen Alixa's bed curtains to awaken her and help her dress for our return home this morning, but she was not there. After that, she looked through the entire apartment, thinking perhaps Alixa had just managed to slip past her on her way to the garderobe, or that she had left her bedchamber to speak to one of her other retainers, but she was nowhere to be found. By that time, her entire household was awake and searching.  Lucas Tremont woke me up to inform me of Alixa's disappearance. By that point, Healer Berthelot had returned from his estate at Alta Jorda, and the Comte de Morigny and the Sieur de L'Orme had also returned from checking on their own lands, so they assisted me with conducting a discreet search of the Palais, just in case she had decided to check into her father's disappearance for herself without an escort. The search turned up no trace of her–it was as though she had just vanished into nothingness! But I think I finally figured out what happened." Camber looked especially grim. "I think there is a secret passage behind the bedchamber wall. I couldn't figure out how to access it, but I could sense traces of magical energy lingering along one section of the paneling."

The King stared at him, stunned. "How long has she been missing?" he finally asked.

"Your guess is as good as mine," said Camber, his voice taut with frustration and fear. "No one has seen her since she retired for the night, right before I came here to report King Renier's disappearance to you. I've brought the ladies of her household back here for their safety. The men are still in Trebaçeaux, continuing the search."

There was another knock, this time further away, at the doors between the King's sitting room and the outer receiving room. Oisin bowed himself out and went to ward off the new arrival and ask them to return at a later time. Instead, he found himself facing a very worried looking Queen Mother.

"I went to check on my daughter and bring a change of clothing for her and her Tralian companions to their guest apartment as the King left a message for me last night requesting," Queen Soraya said, her voice shaking. "The Tralian lady and her son are still there, but Queen Miranda is not." She held out a sealed letter to the squire. "It has the King's name on it, but I can already guess what she's written to him, and if she somehow manages to make it home alive, I might well kill her myself!"

#

June 17, 1465
The Palace of Horthánthy
The Central Courtyard
Noon

Shortly before noon, the Palace heralds were sent out to summon all resident courtiers and household servants of the Palace to the courtyard to hear an important announcement.  All normal Palace business–what little there had been of it that day–had stopped completely as the assembled throng filled the stone-paved courtyard, awaiting whatever news was to be forthcoming.

At the noon hour, two liveried footmen stepped out of the Palace, carrying with them a wooden mounting block obtained from the Royal stables and setting it in a prominent location in the courtyard. A few moments afterwards, Lord Davorin stepped outside, followed by Lady Jesaminda, Lady Arijana, and Lady Mirna, resplendent in their most formal finery and flanked by an honor guard of Lord Davorin's regular liveried men-at-arms, mixed in with several other, less-familiar armored men wearing badges bearing a phoenix on the crest. The armed men took their places on either side of the mounting block as Lord Davorin climbed to the top step, the better to be seen by the watching crowd before him. The ladies stood slightly behind and to one side of him, Arijana and Mirna to either side of Jesaminda, their watchful eyes studying the assembled courtiers and servants as Lord Davorin spoke.

"My Lords and Ladies and other good folk of Horthánthy, it is my very sad duty to inform you of the perfidious murder of our late and much beloved Sovereign, the Hort of Orsal, sometime near the eleventh hour of the clock last night." He waited for the quiet murmur of voices to die down before continuing. "It is my even sadder duty to inform you that although we have managed to capture most of the members behind the plot to commit this heinous crime, the person we believe to be the primary organizer behind this vile conspiracy to overthrow the Crown has thus far managed to evade our justice. We therefore request and require your assistance in capturing this culprit so that Adémar von Horthy's death can be properly avenged."

Another speculative murmur stirred the crowd as Lady Jesaminda stepped forward with a large wooden box. She opened the lid and lifted a small sheaf of documents briefly to show it to the assemblage. "This evidence was discovered in Queen Miranda's chambers late last night, which implicates her in the conspiracy to brutally dispose of her rightful lord and master the Hort of Orsal and Prince of Tralia, and set her son Létald in his place," claimed Lady Jesaminda, looking outraged. "While I should certainly hope that none here would deny that Prince Létald is indeed the Hort's rightful Heir and is, in fact, now our rightful Sovereign by birthright, if not yet of an age to take up his royal duties, the Queen was not content to wait for our late beloved Hort to reach the fullness of his natural years before seeing her son ascend to the Hortic Throne. Instead, she conspired with Comte Réhon-Rogan to dispose of her rightful lord and husband in order that the two of them might rule Orsal and Tralia together as Regents, by right of her infant son."

The murmurs were no longer as quiet now, though the tone behind them was mixed, some voices equally outraged, others quite confused or openly doubtful.

Lord Davorin lifted a hand for silence as Lady Jesaminda replaced the documents in the box and stepped back into her previous spot between Arijana and Mirna. "We understand that this is difficult and unexpected news to take in. But fortunately my informants were able to bring me enough warning in advance of this horrific conspiracy that I was able to send out a troop of men to bring Comte Réhon-Rogan back to Horthánthy for questioning. Alas, the warning came too late for us to realize the Hort's betrayal and murder were imminent, but further questioning of the conspirators has yielded a little more information. The Queen is believed to be in hiding at a dacha very close to the Comte's lands. It is believed to be a place where the lovers met regularly. But as the young Hort is safe in my keeping here at Horthánthy now, it is almost certain they will soon attempt to return here, because without him, all their treachery will have been for naught.  If anyone should happen to see the Queen or the Comte, whether here on the Île, at Orsalis, or any other place, you are to inform us at once. Do not attempt to approach them; they might be armed and dangerous. Simply send us word of where they can be found, and my trusted liegemen will apprehend them and bring them back to face justice."

"From this moment forward, any matters of state should be brought forward to me, as rightful Regent for the Hort now that Comte Réhon-Rogan has been implicated in treason and regicide. As for the conspirators we already hold in our keeping, their executions will begin at sunset, or as soon as we have extracted all the information that we require from them. May their fate serve as a warning to anyone else who might think to rise up against your rightful overlord."

Lord Davorin gave the crowd a curt nod and descended from the mounting block, turning on his heel and returning to the Palace, the honor guard moving to surround him and the three ladies following in his wake.

#

June 17, 1465
The Palace of Horthánthy
A servants' courtyard behind the scullery
Shortly after noon

The Duke of Corwyn and his men had been turned out of the undercroft along with the various other manservants, chambermaids, scullery maids, kitchen staff, and others who made up the various members of the Palace household that kept the palace functioning behind the scenes. Seeking to avoid discovery as outsiders, they had found a shadowy corner of the courtyard from which to watch the Lord Chief Chamberlain from a distance as he gave his speech to the crowd. Fortunately the attention of everyone around them was firmly fixed on Lord Davorin.

Afterwards, as Lord Davorin and his entourage made their way back into the Palace and the crowd began to disperse, Joss and his retainers slipped down a small alley between two of the service buildings, which led to a much smaller servants' courtyard, shaded by the taller buildings surrounding it. For the moment, at least, they were alone, but they kept their voices low nonetheless.

"That was...interesting," one of Joss's officers ventured.

"If by interesting, you mean it was more full of crap than all the garderobes and middens in Orsal and Tralia, I would agree," said the Duke, only a slight tremor in his quiet voice betraying his barely suppressed rage. "I had wondered what sort of twist Davorin intended to put on last night's events. Now we know."

"Fortunately at least we know the Hortic Queen is safely out of Horthánthy," said Rafe, the Duke's second in command. "I wonder if there is some way to gain access to wherever those prisoners are being held?"

"We need to look into that," Joss agreed. "And also we need to find out where the Royal children are being held, because I can't imagine they'd be in the same place with the others anymore."

#

June 17, 1465
The Île d'Orsal
The Port of Horthánthy
Shortly after noon

The island harbor's port officials were out in force, searching both incoming and outgoing vessels for the fugitive Queen. They were also keeping a wary eye out for unwanted visitors, or at least visitors it would be unsafe to offer safe harbor to in these uncertain times. It was bad enough that the peace of the realm had been shattered the night before by rumors of some sort of Palace coup, not to mention the summer capital suddenly crawling with hired soldiers supposedly engaged by Lord Davorin for the people's protection, though who planned to protect them from their protectors was anyone's guess. How the hired soldiers had known to arrive even before the coup had taken place was the subject of very hushed whispers that none dared speculate about too loudly. The town's armoury was still smouldering thanks to the loud explosion of the gunpowder stores that had somehow become ignited late the previous night, though thankfully as it had been located beside the waterfront, a bucket brigade had prevented the flames from spreading throughout the entire port, but battling that conflagration had occupied enough of their energies that few thought to question the other strange events until the following morning.

And now the Hort had reportedly been murdered in his bed, his Queen suspected of plotting his regicide with her ladies, although that hardly seemed to accord with what the people had come to learn about their late sovereign's Gwyneddan-born bride, as well-loved here in Orsal and Tralia now as she had been among her father's people, especially now that she'd given them a Von Horthy Prince to secure the succession. Few could have failed to notice the sudden increase of Gwyneddan warships sailing through their waters. Tensions ran high and rumors about the situation flew through the streets, the common folk of Orsal and Tralia not certain which of the increasingly wilder tales were credible and which were spun from thin air. But Lord Davorin, now styling himself Lord Protector of Orsal and Tralia, had commanded that the Queen be brought in for questioning as the alleged mastermind behind last night's coup, and with the island capital crawling with his hirelings, none dared openly defy him.

A few, of course, believed everything Lord Davorin claimed. A few, it was certain, were lackwits. But as for most, they simply recognized when it was more prudent to keep their eyes open and their mouths shut.

Amidst the hubbub, a small sailing skiff containing a grizzled old fisherman and a much younger man docked at an out of the way pier near Fishmongers Row. While they didn't arrive unnoticed by those who patrolled the waterfront, the skiff was small enough that it received only a cursory search, obviously containing no spaces large enough to conceal a stowaway, nor did either of the sailors on it draw any particular attention. The elder of the two was familiar enough to the inhabitants of this area of Horthánthy.

"Ho, Rolf! I see your nets are empty. No luck today?" asked the port officer as he finished his brief inspection.

"On the contrary," said Rolf. "The market at Coroth was happy enough with my catch yesterday evening, I figured I'd spend the rest of the night visiting my sister there and give myself a free morning to rest." He tapped at his belt pouch with a slight smile, allowing the officer to hear the quiet clink of coins within as evidence of his night's profits. He looked around. "Lots of folks out and about today, more so than usual during the heat of the day; what's the to-do about?"

"Very disturbing news, I'm afraid," said the port official. "The Hort's been murdered, and Lord Davorin claims it's the Queen that's done it, herself and Comte Réhon-Rogan. We're to keep an eye out for everyone coming and going into the Port, since the Queen's gone into hiding."

"Is that so?" exclaimed the fisherman, looking alarmed. "Queen Miranda murdered the Hort? That little slip of a young lady?" He raised his grizzled eyebrows, looking impressed. "Well, that's distressing news indeed. Is that why the Southern Sea is crawling with Gwyneddan warships this morning? I just figured Joux was up to something again."

The port official, looking out towards the horizon nervously at the ships in question, shrugged. "I don't really know what's up with that. I can't imagine Gwynedd would have got word of what's happening here this quickly, unless Lord Davorin used some sort of Deryni magic to get a message to Rhemuth and appealed to them for aid." He frowned. "Though with Queen Miranda being Gwyneddan, I would have thought he'd have called upon Beldouria for reinforcements instead, if that were the case. Reckon we'll find out what's up soon enough. I just follow what orders come down from the Palace; it ain't my job to understand 'em."

"Well, best of luck sorting it all out," said Rolf. "I'd best be heading home. Gotta get last night's take into my strong box," he whispered with another quick glance down at his belt pouch.

"Good idea," said the port official. Glancing at Rolf's companion, he asked, "Who's the lad with you?"

"Ah." Rolf looked back over his shoulder at the silent youth who had accompanied him. "My sister's husband's nephew," he whispered. "Got sent down from University and they're still trying to figure out a suitable trade for him. I got a friend needs a clerk, and the lad reads and writes well enough, so I said I'd ask my friend to see if he'd suit. Lord knows he don't look like he'd be good for much else besides scholars' work; imagine those scrawny muscles trying to haul in a full net!" He winked.

The official gave a commiserating chuckle. "Good luck with that, then!"

#

June 17, 1465
The Port of Horthánthy
A fisherman's cottage
Early afternoon

"'I just follow what orders come down from the Palace; it ain't my job to understand 'em,'" Miranda quoted the port official once she and Rolf were behind closed doors. "Well, so much for Port security!" She shook her head incredulously.

"You were hoping he'd be sharper and spot you as the missing Queen at once, were you?" the fisherman teased as he unlocked his strong box to put the pouch containing the previous night's profits in. Closing the lid and relocking it, he turned to face her, his brief amusement fading. "If Lord Davorin has put it about that you're the one responsible for the Hort's death, you're in even greater danger here than we already suspected, Your Majesty. Are you certain you want to return to the Palace? I can still bring you back to Coroth."

"I can't go back, not without finding out what he's done with my children," Miranda said. "Though if I'm able to find them, I might need some help getting them out of Horthánthy, unless I can get them to a safe portal instead." She sank onto a stool, looking worried. "I hate to involve you any more than I've already done, though. It could be very dangerous for you, helping me."

"At least the Duke of Corwyn and his men ought to have made it here by now," Rolf reminded her. "Though I'll be no safer from him than I would be from Lord Davorin if he finds out I'm the one who helped you return here. So you would be doing me a very great favor if you can manage to remain undetected and in one piece, my lady."

"I'll certainly do my best," Miranda said. Looking around the small room, she asked, "You wouldn't happen to have a mirror around here, would you?"

He laughed. "No, my lady, what use would an ugly old man like meself have for such a thing?" He thought for a moment, then walked over to a shuttered window, opening the shutters and placing a basin on the floor, filling it with water from the jug of fresh water he used for drinking and washing his hands. His reflection gazed dimly up at him from the water's surface. "Here, see if this will serve."

Miranda walked over to check out her own reflection. "I'm not all that practiced in this sort of magic," she admitted as she studied the features of the young man gazing back up at her, making a few minor adjustments to make him look a little less feminine to her eye. She looked back up at Rolf. "I know the port official didn't seem to suspect anything, but will this guise fool Lord Davorin?"

"It's hard to say," the fisherman admitted. "The problem is, you don't look like Queen Miranda at the moment, but you also don't look all that common born either, nor do you really walk or carry yourself much like a young man, especially one of the working class. But people tend to see only what they expect to see, so since you happen to look like a young man and you're dressed like one, then if someone isn't looking to find a young noblewoman in disguise, hopefully they won't think to look deeper than your surface appearance."

"Would the disguise look more convincing if I were to try to pass myself off as a chambermaid instead?" she asked, frowning uncertainly at her reflection.

"Would Lord Davorin or Lady Jesaminda not recognize all the Palace chambermaids, at least by sight?" Rolf asked. "I think you'd want to try to pass as someone a bit more out of their notice than that. A scullery maid, maybe, except again, you carry yourself as one born to give orders, not receive them." He pondered the dilemma. "Could you maybe pretend to be some nobleborn lady visiting the Palace, perhaps to bring up some matter of Court business before the Hort, only to discover upon arrival that the Hort has been killed and the Palace is in a bit of uproar about it? What would a nobleman's wife or daughter do in such a situation?"

Miranda chuckled. "Probably try to stick around long enough to hear all the juicy gossip so she can bring it all home to her family," she admitted. "But trying to pass myself off as a visiting Tralian noblewoman might get me a bit more notice from Lord Davorin than I really want to draw to myself." She sighed. "I'll figure something out."

#

June 17, 1465
The Palace of Horthánthy
Lord Davorin's apartment
Mid-afternoon

Lady Mirna was highly annoyed. Not only were the three Royal brats being housed in her lord husband's apartment for the moment (an arrangement he assured her was purely temporary, but which was very inconvenient nonetheless), but also the nursemaid he had retained to care for them was crying nearly as much as they were, making her entirely useless for the job. She decided something must be done about the situation.

"If you can't get the little hellions to shut up," she informed the nursemaid, "then I'll hire someone else who will, and you can go join the rest of your friends at the gallows if you wish."

The sniveling nursemaid fell silent immediately, dabbing at her wet cheeks with the hem of her apron. "Forgive me, m'lady! I'll do as I'm bid. It's just that Lady Jesaminda never said anyone would die, least of all the innocent babies!" She hugged the two Princesses close to her chest. "Hush now, little ones!" she whispered in cajoling tones. "See here, play with this pretty poppet!" She reached into the pocket slit in her skirts and drew a small black-haired doll, handing it to Rezza.

"I want Mama!" the child pouted, looking like she was about to erupt into tears again.

"Where Mama?" Silvé echoed.

Lady Mirna forced a pleasant expression on her face as she crouched down to look at the small girl and her toddler sister. "I'm afraid your Mama has gone very far away and she's never coming back. I'm going to be your new Mama now." She barely managed to avoid rolling her eyes. "Won't you like that? Now, go play with your poppet."

"Don't want you, Lady Meana! We want Mama!" Little Rezza stamped her foot, looking indignant.

Mirna slapped her. "Don't be cheeky!" Glaring at the nursemaid as she stood, she brushed off her skirts, carefully reining in her growing temper. "You have one hour to calm them down. If you can't, I'll be seeking a replacement for you." Turning to the young princesses, she added, "And as for you two, you are quite redundant to needs. I have no idea why Lord Davorin decided to keep you around, when it's only your brother who is of any importance." She shook her head. "Behave, or I might need to have a word with him." She patted her belly. "I'm in a very delicate condition right now, and I require my peace and quiet."


Next chapter: https://rhemuthcastle.com/index.php/topic,3488.0.html

[tmcd]

If need be, please feel free to tell Joscelin that the Queen of Orsal and Tralia is a mule-headed woman who can't be reasoned with. I'm sure he's quite familiar with what it's like to quarrel with a Haldane.

I hope that you realize some day how grateful I am for that last line. It does echo even something as far back as in the first chapter of Deryni Rising, and bits in following books.

[JudithR]

"and if she somehow manages to make it back alive, I might well kill her myself"

Go Soraya

[Evie]

If need be, please feel free to tell Joscelin that the Queen of Orsal and Tralia is a mule-headed woman who can't be reasoned with. I'm sure he's quite familiar with what it's like to quarrel with a Haldane.

I hope that you realize some day how grateful I am for that last line. It does echo even something as far back as in the first chapter of Deryni Rising, and bits in following books.

I get the strong impression that even the most easy-going of the Haldanes had a bit of a temper and a stubborn streak, under the right (or perhaps I should say wrong) circumstances.

"and if she somehow manages to make it back alive, I might well kill her myself"

Go Soraya

Soraya knows her daughter well enough to make an educated guess that Miranda has almost certainly done what Soraya would have done herself at that age and under the same circumstances, no matter how unwise or illogical her actions are. The maternal protective instinct is a strong one. My daughter has been known to tease me about how her mild-mannered mama has been known to turn into a feral Mama Grizzly on rare occasion when there is some sort of threat to my young. Fortunately I've never had to deal with a royal coup. 

[Jerusha]

I do hope Mirna lives just long enough to regret that slap! (Though not wishing harm to the unborn child.)

[Evie]

I do hope Mirna lives just long enough to regret that slap! (Though not wishing harm to the unborn child.)

It's quite possible she'll get her comeuppance at some point.