The castle was in an uproar. All fourteen thousand inhabited suites bustled, all two hundred thousand resident nobles, servants, priests, and petitioners scurried hither and thither with one purpose; to avoid the king's tremendous fury descending upon them. Only outside did the forest life, few and far between this high in the mountains, pass peacefully ignorant of the politics of the supernatural.
Down one usually vacant corridor, a dry, cold wind gusted through. The few lanterns were not enough to provide cheer, and people squeezed past each other in a space not meant to let more than two pass at a time. In a set of rooms few knew about, decorated with little artwork and a melange of splinters and ripped upholstery, the doors all stood open. The winds saw the broken stained glass window as their invitation to a place usually warmed by even more fires than the rest of the castle, as attested to by black scorch marks up the walls and on the ceiling. The carpet was constantly new, but not cheap. The wife of the king would not be given inferior goods. Just now, that carpet was blue with thread-of-gold picking out gods'-trees and eagles, and it had a large hole in it that had been drenched by a row of hastily-summoned buckets.
In the center of that hole sat the king on the only whole chair left. Three healers from the nearby elf tribe danced the most immediate attendance on him, applying solvents and bandaging before putting his Majesty's arm in a sling and trying, between orders issued to the constant stream coming in and leaving, to instruct him on the proper care a vampire must take when burned.
Outside, far away, an eagle's cry stole the king's attention, and the leprechaun duke who had currently been on the receiving end stifled a deep sigh. The king's head whipped around, staring out the window, and he started to get up. The main healer grabbed his good arm and dragged him back to the rude stool. "That was not her Majesty's eagle voice, and you should know the difference by now," she said acidly. "Now sit still or I'll put you to sleep for a few days, and you can forget about trying to keep up appearances at tomorrow's ceremony. There's no one in this castle, in my tribe or the were tribe who don't have an idea of what has happened, and this time tomorrow, the poltergeists will have taken it upon themselves to see that everyone in the world knows."
"I want her back," he rasped. "Immediately, and without fail." He turned incredulous eyes on the hands holding High King Baslon, ruler of all the supernatural on land, in his place, then glared hostilely at the healer. She glared back for an instant before carefully avoiding letting their eyes meet for long.
"If your Majesty insists," Healer Gigea replied, resisting the urge to wrap the guaze tighter than necessary. She was a professional, and when working on the High King was no time to indulge in caprice. As a healer, she could get away with what few others could, but when the king's mind was all on thoughts of his queen, it was her status as a cousin of the queen that got her what little attention she could muster. As a Master Healer, she had to take advantage of that and show all care to her patient, no matter how annoyingly childish he was being. The fool thought he was in love with the queen, and paid no attention to how it affected the realms of the supernatural.
Outside, the great gates opened and the first of the search parties went out. Fairies and sprites turned others into swift flyers and runners. Others levitated themselves or brought out snow shoes to prepare for a long search. Elves helped angels and people with human ancestry try to scry. And all hoped that, when they found the queen, getting her to come back would not be worse than facing his Majesty with a report of failure. Others levitated themselves or brought out snow shoes to prepare for a long search.
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