A Strand of Silver

More precious than gold

Image by Birgit Röhrs from Pixabay

A single silver thread ran through the fabric of Cecily’s dress, so fine it remained invisible to all but the keenest eye. Only those who knew to look for it would find it, and even then, only in the right light.

The thread, woven into every piece of material used in the making of her clothing served as a reminder. Though Cecily had worked as a lady’s maid, hidden within her “employer’s” staff, by rights, she was queen, the last surviving member of her slaughtered family.

All knees had bent to the usurper. These last sixteen years he had believed himself safe, his uncle’s bloodline extinguished, right down to the unborn child carried by the queen, whom he had personally run through the heart, ending both lives in a single stroke.

What he did not know, could not, is that as he had swept from the room, a minor noble, kin to the queen, had stepped from a hidden passage and cut the child from her mother’s womb, delivering her to one of his servants who had just given birth to a stillborn infant.

Cecily had been raised to believe herself daughter to that servant until her fourteenth year, when her master had revealed to her the truth of who she was and the conspiracy afoot to place her on the throne.

And now, today, on her sixteenth birthday, an envoy had come with news. An army from the south, from her mother’s people, had vanquished the usurper’s few remaining allies. A great fleet even now mopped up the remnants of the king’s navy. There had been little resistance; his commanders had been as likely to join the invaders as fight them. The usurper himself had fled, though it was unlikely he would find safe harbor in any kingdom.

Tonight, Cecily had been asked to don the silver of the royal family. Her family. To come out of hiding. To claim her throne. As she stood in her employer’s, no, her vassal’s garden, for he had sworn fealty to her this night, Cecily plucked a silver leaf from the air as it floated down from the tree before her, a sign of the approach of autumn. A change of seasons, to accompany her change of status.

“Must I?” Tears shone in her eyes as she fought down the ache in her heart.

The only mother she had never known knelt before her. She raised her head to lock eyes with Cecily. “It is what you were saved for, my queen.”

Cecily’s heart clenched at her mother addressing her so. Where was the woman who had read to her and taught her to read? Who had nurtured her and disciplined her? Who, she now realized, had served her. “Did you even…” she began.

“Child,” the woman choked out, “I have loved you as my own from the moment the master placed you in my arms. I will always love you. But you are also my queen, and it has been and will always be my honor to serve you.”

Cecily nodded, swallowing against the tightness in her throat, then said, “I accept your oath of fealty. And I will allow you to dress me to meet my court. But this will be the only time.” She took her subject by the hands and raised her up. “My first act as queen is this.” She looked around the garden, catching the eye of every noble of what would become her court.

“Felicity and Keron Themon are my parents in every way that matters. Though it has been made clear to me that they may not hold this place officially, they are my family and will remain a part of my household. I name them cousins to the crown. They will hold land and title in their own right. They will bow to no one but me.”

As Felicity’s face reddened in the familiar way it did when she was flustered beyond answering, Cecily presented her to the nobles, all of whom bowed to their queen and her cousin. Keron would learn the news when he returned from the battlefield.

“And now, cousin,” Felicity said with a mischievous grin. Let us both dress and prepare ourselves for what awaits at the castle.”

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This flash fiction grew from three prompt words from my friend, Laura. The words were silver, leaf, and garden. I love it when a story creeps up on me, not revealing itself until it’s ready to be told.

I didn’t suspect this story would become that of a hidden queen until I started writing. That single silver thread, hidden in Cecily’s dress suggested it and the story grew from there.