Queen Maeve lounged on a throne made, or at least plated, with gold, and encrusted in gems. She wore a golden crown, with a ruby, an emerald, and a sapphire, each of enormous size. Long, curly red hair flowed over her bare shoulders. Her dress, to my taste, rather spoiled the effect, with a dozen clashing colors of silk making it impossible to focus on just one. Was it fashionable, or simply courtly? Either way, it was hideous, which was a shame, because the Queen herself was not. If she was Princess Lysandra’s mother, age and motherhood had left her remarkably unravished.

There were a dozen courtiers, the men garishly dressed, the women slightly less so. Around the hall were various paintings, mostly reclining nudes of lithe women with crowns on their heads, the proportions a little off. There were also two landscapes, and the Botticelli.

“Most revered Mother,” the princess said, bowing low. That answered that question.

I curtsied. My wives, flanking me, mimicked Lysandra’s bow. Each of us carried a tube with a print in it.

“Queen Abby,” Maeve said.

I bit off the temptation to say, “that’s me!” It would have sounded flippant, but I didn’t really know what else to say, so I didn’t.

It didn’t seem to phase her. “I am an admirer of your artwork, although I confess I had no idea you were a queen. What is your lineage?”

It had all gone far enough. “In truth, your highness, people just started calling me a queen, and I didn’t stop them. I am of, well, humble birth, I suppose you would call it.”

The queen frowned. “But of great artistic talent.”

“And that’s the other thing. I tried to tell your Emissary. I can’t paint. I bought the piece of artwork you saw from someone else. And I can buy more. I brought some with me.”

“You can’t paint?” she said.

I shook my head.

“I had my heart set on you painting my portrait,” she said. “To hang with the others.” She gestured to the walls. “I am – most upset at this news.”

The courtiers all took a step back, and I saw Lysandra shake.

“Well,” I said. “I could try my best. I have an artistic process that doesn’t involve painting, exactly.”

The storm left her face, mostly. “Oh?”

“Yes,” I said, happy I’d prepared for something like this.

“So even though you can’t paint, you can still do my portrait?”

“Yes.”

“Satisfactory.”

“But, where I come from, artists get paid. I’m happy to create likenesses of anyone, actually, as long as I receive value in return.”

To my surprise, the Queen glowered again. “We shall talk about that anon. Let us see the art you brought.”

So we showed her.

First, I showed her the Mona Lisa. I admit she’s got a great smile, but I don’t love the painting. I guess I don’t really see the point of it. Still, people who know more about art than I do think it’s great. She looked at it, and showed it around to the courtiers.

“The craftsmanship is quite impressive,” she said.

Then I showed her a Turner landscape. It, too, was shown around to oohs and ahs.

Finally, I took out a poster of Kate Upton in a swimsuit. More oohs. More ahs. And several of the elf men adjusted their codpieces.

“And you can do my portrait like this?” Queen Maeve asked, holding up the poster. She had clearly noticed the men’s reaction.

“Something like that, yes. You’d have to sit for me.”

“I’m sitting now.”

I shook my head. “Model. You’d have to get into the exact pose, in the exact setting, in the exact state of dress that you wish to be pictured in.”

“Can’t you use your imagination?” Queen Maeve asked.

“The process involves an almost exact reproduction of reality. I can make a few minor tweaks, but that’s where it has to start.”

She frowned. One of the female courtiers giggled, and the Queen silenced her with a glare. Everyone watched in silence after that, while the Queen looked at Kate Upton, at the portraits on the wall, at me.

“You know, if I hadn’t seen you, I would have believed that the artist exaggerated a few things,” she said, pointing to Kate’s boobs.

“The artist did not exaggerate,” I said.

“How are you at exaggeration?”

“Lousy,” I told her.

She made a face. At last she said, “Very well. I shall take you to my boudoir after lunch tomorrow. Thank goodness you aren’t a man.”

Lysandra cleared her throat.

Maeve raised her eyebrows.

“Might I have permission, your majesty, so share some pertinent information?”

“No,” Maeve said. “No, you may not. No one is getting in the way of me and my portrait. And Abby.”

“Yes?”

“You are not to make a portrait of anyone else.”

“No. I don’t agree.”

“What?” exclaimed the Queen. “I must have misheard you.”

Lysandra was frantically shaking her head at me.

“If you wish to have your portrait made, I will do it, for free, but only on the condition that I can sell any kind of picture, to anyone in the city.”

Everyone in the room was tense, and silent, for several seconds. Maybe I’d made a mistake, but I had something she wanted, that she couldn’t get without my help, and she knew it.

“You really are an artist, aren’t you? Only an artist would wear such ridiculous clothes, and make demands of ourselves. Everyone! Begone. Leave me and my fellow queen alone for a moment.”

Hurriedly, the courtiers left. More reluctantly, Gren and Valeria did too, guided by Lysandra.

Once they had left, the Queen smiled at me. “I can’t let them see me give in, you know.”

I smiled. “I get that.”

She chuckled. “I will agree to your terms, with one exception.”

“Which is?”

“You not distribute any other pictures in the manner of the royal portrait. That must be for me alone.”

“Meaning, nudes reclining on a bed, with crowns on their heads?”

“With or without crowns.”

“But standing is fine?”

“Standing is fine. But you understand? In some way, my portrait must be unique.”

I nodded. “I can do that. May I ask a question?”

“Hmm?” she was a lot more relaxed without an audience.

“Lysandra. She said she was promised against her will to another.”

The queen nodded. “To Archfiend Albaraeth, actually.”

“The demon Archfiend?” I had expected she was just dissatisfied with some elf courtier. They seemed to be built along the same lines as Harmodiel, most of them.

“Yes. They apparently are having some sort of problem, I’m not sure exactly what it is. So, to avert a war – she understands the sacrifice she must make. A war between us would be calamitous for everyone, not just demons and elves. The last time –”

She trailed off, but I was curious. “What happened the last time?”

“Well, it was a thousand years ago. A powerful necromancer led the demonic forces at first, and many soldiers, both demons and elves, were turned into undead by his foul magics. Every battle, the living were pressed forward against each other, and no matter who came out victorious still more were turned into the walking dead. Eventually the undead armies were almost unstoppable.”

“Almost?” I had a feeling that I knew who the necromancer was.

“We used – powerful magics,” Maeve told me. “And the demons who were still alive allied themselves with us in the end. Best not to speak of such things. We hope never to unleash such sorcery again.”

Elves. Unleashing is what you do with powerful sorcery! That’s what it’s there for! Would you keep a ravenous wolf on a leash? No!

Since I was talking to the queen, I did not point out that unruly canines were literally what leashes were for. Maeve might have wondered who I was talking to, and she wouldn’t have liked the answer. Still, I wondered what about the magic they used to defeat Enash was so bad. I would get no answers from the queen, clearly.

I had been silent for too long, it seemed, and Maeve waved her hand. “No doubt such discussions disturb your artistic temperament. Go, and look at our lovely trees. The lilacs are in bloom! Enjoy the colors, indulge in wine, find a gigolo or two. Or courtesans, since you seem to prefer women. See?” she said, with a smile. “I understand the ways artists behave. Just try not to be too hungover, or to have gotten too little sleep, when I send for you halfway between dawn and noon.” She frowned. “No, just before noon. You’ll have to have some extra time to sleep all that off, and I want you to be at your best.”

I curtsied. “Yes, your highness.” Somewhere, I remembered you were supposed to back out in presence of royalty, so I did. Maeve smiled at me in amusement. If that wasn’t the custom here, at least she would write it off to the eccentricity of artists.

Lysandra was waiting outside for me, along with Valeria and Gren. “I shall show you to your quarters,” she said. “Unless you wish to be shown something else?”

I didn’t say anything until we had gotten down the hall, away from the courtiers. “The queen suggested that we get drunk and get laid.”

Lysandra stared. “Not in so many words, surely.”

“Not in so many words, but clearly, nonetheless.”

“Well, um, I would scarcely be a suitable guide on such an expedition,” Lysandra said. “I shall have to find you someone more familiar with the less reputable parts of town.”

I had no intention of hiring whores, but I was curious as to what the “less reputable parts of town” were like. “Perfect.”

“I would have thought that your wives would be sufficient,” Lysandra said frostily. “Although I suppose, since you are at least partially a demon, you probably simply enjoy the notion of cheating on them. Or of them cheating on you.”

“It’s not cheating if there’s permission,” I replied almost without thinking, because I’d heard that characterization of poly before and the defense had become almost a reflex. “You don’t think much, then, of the demon way of life?”

“No. No I do not,” Lysandra said firmly.

“And yet your fiancé –”

“That’s none of your business.”

Gren and Valeria looked at me curiously, because they had no idea what I was talking about. And I didn’t want to continue the conversation in the hall, so I waited until we got to our rooms.

“Stay for a moment, please, princess.”

“I’m sure I am needed elsewhere,” she said, her voice still icy.

“Nothing will happen to you, I just have something to say to you, privately.”

Lysandra frowned. I shrugged at her, and turned my back, pretending to be busy sorting clothes in the drawers. It wouldn’t do to press, and I wanted to engage her curiosity.

She closed the door. “Speak.”

“I could possibly extricate you from your engagement.”

Lysandra frowned. “How?”

“By solving the problem the demons face. It’s possible that you are the solution, of course, but I think they are grasping at straws. I can’t promise, of course. But I do have an idea.”

“What idea?”

“Do you understand what the demon problem is?”

Lysandra shook her head. “Not … exactly. Only that they demanded a princess, and offered us some magical components in return. They were, I’m told, quite generous, although the threat was clear enough, as well. The generosity was sufficient that the Queen can claim she was not giving into the threat.” Lysandra shrugged. “No matter. I will do what needs to be done. My sacrifice, for the peace of my people. I shall go, be defiled, and then take my own life.”

“Yeah, no, I can’t let that happen.”

“You can’t let that happen?” she repeated.

I was out on a limb, and I knew it. And maybe there was nothing I could do to stop it, but I had to try. “Nope,” I said, with a little more confidence than I felt. I did have an idea. I just wasn’t sure it would work.

“Don’t go causing a war on my account,”  Lysandra said. “I’m not interested in you.”

As she said it, her eyes dropped from my face, scanned my chest, and then continued lower.

“Of course,” I said. “We will talk about it more later. For now, perhaps you can find us a guide to the seamy underbelly of Avonia?”