That evening, call on the Queen.

The rest of your discussion with the Sinnabarrovian royals goes by relatively uneventfully. Garnier is polite and agreeable, bouncing his baby sister on his knee as you converse. Once everything pertinent has been discussed, the visiting royals retire to their chambers.

You leave it for an hour, then stroll over to the rooms afforded the Red Queen. Rapping on the door, you're greeted by a servant girl.

"Good evening, Your Majesty." the dark-haired girl bows her head. Her accent is inflected with the more Morlandian tones common to those from the western reaches of Sinnabarrow, something you've noticed in Queen Emmanuelle's voice herself, though she tries to suppress it. "How can I help you?"

"I'd see your lady, if I could." you state.

"Of course." the brunette bows her head, returning several moments later, her mistress in tow.

"Thank you, Elena." Emmanuelle says. "King Bryce, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"I simply wanted to see if you were comfortable in your rooms." you lie. You had ulterior motives for coming, of course. You imagined Emmanuelle would think much the same herself.

"Oh, how darling of you!" Emmanuelle smiles warmly. "Care to come in? I was just about to take tea for the final time today. Something to soothe my the ache in my skull."

"Oh, are you in discomfort?" you wonder. "I'm sorry to hear that, truly."

"It's really nothing, Your Majesty." Emmanuelle responds. "Simply a... condition I'm occasionally aggrieved by."

You move into the drawing room, following the redheaded Queen to an ornate loveseat towards the centre of the room.

"Where's Madeleine?" you can't help but ask.

"I just put her to bed. Let me tell you, Bryce, that girl is quite the handful. So energetic!" the Queen smiles warmly. "Of course, I couldn't resist telling her about the boating excursion Garnier and I are planning."

"A boat trip?" you perk up.

"Yes, there's a remote destination we're all very fond of, on the way back to Copieux. The Lac D'Givre. She's mentioned it daily since we last took her." Emmanuelle chuckles, a kindly twinkle in her eyes as she thinks on it.

"Some of the happiest times of my own childhood were found out on the water. Visiting my future vassals on Logos, or just fishing with Lord Gilbert." you tell her.

"Ah, formidable. I wager you were the happiest little boy in Itheria, non?" Emmanuelle beams. "My Garnier, he designed his own boat, quite the marvel. We take it out on the water. Imagine it Bryce, gliding across the clearest, calmest waters you've ever seen. So far away from all the senseless **** and misery that haunts our continent. Doesn't that sound wonderful?"

"It does." you have to admit.

"Ah, but I ramble on. I promised you tea!" Emmanuelle giggles. She rises, padding over to where her lady-in-waiting has prepared some tea for her. You idly notice the Queen is now barefoot.

Deftly pouring two measures of the golden tea, the red-headed Sinnabarrovian looks back at you.

"Sugar, Bryce?" she asks. You shake your head. Returning to you, Emmanuelle sets your cup down on the low table just before your seat. You can't help but glance down her dress as she stoops. If the Queen notices, she doesn't seem to mind.

"Ah, but what's tea without a cake!" Emmanuelle says, bounding up again. "Can I twist your arm, Bryce?"

"Your Excellency, perhaps it would be more proper if I-" Elena starts, only for the Queen to hold up a hand, silencing her.

"Ah! Elena, you work quite hard enough, hmm? I can do this mere trifle." Emmanuelle smiles.

"Should you not rest yourself, milady?" Elena asks, concerned.

"For fuck's sake, let me do this." the Queen responds, some terseness creeping in now. You notice some discomfort, pain even, play across her elegant features. Her hand shoots to her forehead, but she plays it off as brushing away an errant strand of hair.

"You should... you should try one, Bryce, if only to appreciate the work your chefs do. You strike me as a rather serious young man." Emmanuelle crosses over to where a small selection of cakes have been laid out for her, and grabs a couple. "The world won't end if you enjoy a fancy little confection."

"You seem to have quite the sweet tooth yourself, Lady Emmanuelle." you say, doing your best to make conversation, though conversing with cultured, worldly ladies is hardly your forte.

"You have no idea." the Queen says, giving you a slight smile. "When I was last with child, all I hungered for was sweets." you notice she's stopped in her tracks now, as if she's forgotten something important. It's disconcerting.

"I ate so many shell cakes, it's no wonder... No wonder I named-" Emmanuelle trails off.

The Queen goes vacant, dropping the plate of cakes, the porcelain shattering, the cakes bouncing across the carpet. Her whole body seems to convulse and shudder. As she stares ahead, Emmanuelle mouths words, as if attempting to continue your conversation. A look of confusion and fear plays across the handsome features that had until a moment ago played host to a companionable smile.

"Emmanuelle?" you ask, jumping to your feet, drawing closer to her. When she does not respond you turn to her servant.

"Have no fear, Majesty." Elena says, closing the gap between her and the Queen, holding her arm. "My lady suffers from epilepsy. This spell should pass in a matter of minutes. If you could help me guide her to a seat?"

You nod, coming up on the other side of Emmanuelle and helping Elena guide her down onto the loveseat, where she bears less risk of falling or unintentionally injuring herself.

Elena strokes her mistress' hair, whispering in her ear with the warm tones of a close friend. It isn't too long before the seizure subsides, though Emmanuelle is momentarily dead to the world for the next few minutes.

"My lady rarely goes more than a week without one such episode." Elena informs you. "Nothing the royal physicians, or the Dauphin himself try can eliminate the seizures completely. But the worst is over, you have my thanks, Majesty."

"It was nothing." you nod to the lady-in-waiting.

A couple of minutes pass, with you considering what course of action would be most proper, before you hear four raps on the door to the cloister in quick succession.

Elena seems to recognise the distinctive knock, scurrying away from her lady to answer it.

Prince Garnier enters, holding a red flower.

"The Queen has just suffered another seizure, Your Excellency." Elena informs the prince. His expression flits to one of deep concern, mingling with confusion as he spies you, kneeling by Emmanuelle's side.

"Forgive my presence, Prince Garnier." you say. "I was merely... checking up on the Queen. We got to talking, and were having tea. She rather insisted."

"It's quite alright. You have my utmost gratitude for being there for her." the Dauphin responds, his tone his tone bereft of any suspicion or jealousy.

The two of you sit there, for a handful more minutes, until Emmanuelle feels up to talking.

"What happened?" She asks, her voice a weak, tired croak.

"You had another seizure." Garnier says plainly. Reaching out, he takes his step-mother's hand in his, holding it tenderly.

The Queen lets out a weary sigh.

"King Bryce, I hate to ask this of you, but my step-mother will be feeling very tired. Is it possible we could talk more tomorrow?"

"Of course." you nod, going to make your leave. Behind you, you notice a now drained Emmanuelle gesturing for Garnier, and whispering in his ear.

"King Bryce... Queen Emmanuelle wishes to know if you would like to accompany our family on our trip to the Lac D'Givre." Garnier relays. "Both as a close ally, and a beloved friend. What say you?"

You make a show of weighing the offer, even as your mind is already made up.