The Lost Queen

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Authors: Frewin Jones
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holding her skirts with one hand. The oarsman took her arm to steady her as a gulf of water opened between the boat and ship. But a moment later the sea nudged the boat forward again, and she was able to step easily onto the platform.
    She clung to the rope with both hands as she felt herself being lifted. She gazed shoreward: Behind the shingle banks, the land rose in grassy dunes, and beyond them gray-brown hills rolled dimly away on the edge of sight. She saw that the ship was anchored in a wide bay with dark curving arms of land stretching out to either side. To the left, a black finger tipped the arc of the bay, capped with a tongue of flame, distant but jewel-bright on the dark horizon.
    â€œGive me your hand, Princess.” She was at the level of the deck. A sailor was waiting for her, wearing a cream shirt and sky blue trousers tucked into high leather boots. Tania took his hand and stepped on board the ship.
    A familiar voice rang out from the throng of Faerie folk who were gathered on the deck.
    â€œWelcome! Welcome indeed, my daughter! This is a joy unlooked for.” King Oberon stepped forward and took her into his arms. He was dressed all in white, with diamonds sewn into the folds of his padded doublet and with a fine filigree of charcoal thread patterning the collar and cuffs. His white crown circled his forehead, holding back his long yellow hair, the crystal band inset with a ring of precious and rare black amber stones.
    Tania gazed into his face with its close-cut golden beard and mustache and those deep-set piercing blue eyes. “Hello,” she said, embracing him fondly. “It’s nice to be back.”
    â€œAnd you have returned in perfect time for the Festival of the Traveler’s Moon,” the King said. “Come, tell us your news quickly, before we set sail for Logris.”
    Clasping his hand, Tania looked around at the familiar faces that surrounded her on the deck. Her sister Hopie was there with her husband, Lord Brython, at her side, both of them clad in simple brown. Cordelia was there, too, her red-gold hair shorn about her shoulders and her face a mass of freckles. She held up one arm, a kestrel on her wrist. Sancha was at her side, dressed in her usual sable velvet, her clever brown eyes dancing in her smiling face.
    â€œI’ve got some good news,” Tania said, seeing the light of hope in Oberon’s eyes. “We haven’t actually found Titania yet, but Edric and I have spoken to someone who has met her. Or at least who met someone who looks exactly like her.”
    â€œI had not looked for you to find the Queen so swiftly,” Oberon said.
    â€œThe search isn’t over yet,” Tania said. “But we’ll keep going, I promise. I couldn’t have got this far without Edric’s help.”
    â€œWhere is Master Chanticleer?” Sancha asked. “Did he not come with you?”
    â€œWell, no,” Tania said. “I didn’t really mean to come here myself, but I kind of got carried away.”
    â€œAnd so shall we all, ere the night is much older!” said the King. He gave Tania a final loving look, then turned toward the high quarterdeck at the stern ofthe ship. “Admiral Belial, all are aboard. Weigh anchor and let us be gone!”
    The admiral was standing at the quarterdeck rail, tall and gaunt and wrapped in a navy blue cloak. He raised his hand and the decks sprang alive with sky-blue-clad sailors, swarming down ropes and running across the decks. Wide capstans turned slowly to the rhythm of whistles and tambourines. Voices called from mast to mast.
    â€œIsn’t Eden here?” Tania asked, looking around for her eldest sister. Zara also seemed to have disappeared.
    â€œIndeed she is,” said Sancha. “She is below decks preparing for the voyage. She will be with us soon.”
    â€œCome to the forecastle,” Cordelia said. “Eden and our father will be there

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