Thayarian ale must be strong, because while I drank a lot, a night like tonight back home wouldn’t have made me this inebriated. The ceiling spins above me as I think about the Queen and the information I’ve learned. Suddenly, I have an idea and stand from the bed before crashing back down. I take a deep breath, then stand again, and this time it holds. Stumbling to the desk, I pull out a blank piece of parchment and dip a quill into the inkpot. Then I pen a scathing note to none other than Queen Laurel.

Sealing the letter with my signet, I stumble into the common area and lay the missive on the dining table, promising to send it in the morning.

Laurel

Thayaria is home to a rare species of feline. Comparable in size to a wolf or deer, the sidhe run wild in the mountains and moors of northern Thayaria. Many myths surround these ancient and mysterious creatures. One of these tales attributes the sidhe to a circle of witches who became trapped in the cat-like form after practicing blood magic, and parents tell their children stories of the spine-chilling apparitions to get them to go to sleep at night. Many notable monarchs in Thayarian history have kept a sidhe as a pet after it unexpectedly followed them home and never left.

A Brief History of Modern Thayaria

What an insufferable prick, I think as I throw my magic against the wall of mist off the northern coast. A lazy, entitled drunk. Everything I’ve heard about him is true.

I was seated at my desk, reading the morning missives, when a servant knocked on the door. Hands trembling, she handed me a folded piece of parchment with Her Majesty Queen Laurel written across the front in small, blocky script.

“Who is this from?” I demanded. “Why was it not delivered with the regular post?” I immediately regretted my harshness when the woman stuttered out her apologies. It isn’t her fault that when I go too long without letting out my magic, I get a little testy. And I was beyond testy this morning, sitting there running my mind over everything I needed to fix. Alone.

“It’s from the Velmaran Court, Your Majesty. I found it on their table when I delivered the breakfast tray to them this morning. I showed it to Sir Admon, and he requested I bring it to you straight away. I don’t know which of the three wrote it, ma’am,” the poor girl had barely whispered out.

“Thank you, you were right to bring this to me. Forgive me, I was unfamiliar with the handwriting.” She left, and I ripped the letter open, unable to contain my curiosity.