Madeline paced the entry hall like an enraged lioness as Calan's personal manservant came to greet her. He bowed, as was proper, to which she merely growled, "Where is he?"

"My lord was in the midst of his moring absolutions, milady. He will most assuredly be with you momentarily..." the manservant replied calmly in the face of Madeline's ire, which only served to irritate her further.

"I am here, Roland, thank you," interrupted a tenor voice from atop the stairs. Calan stood there by the railing, garbed in nothing more than a simple bath robe. He placed his hand on the bannister as Roland bowed and excused himself from the room. Only once the room was empty did Calan speak again, "What is the matter, Maddi? I wasn't expecting you until tonight..."

"Do you even love me?" Madeline blurted it out much more blatantly than she had wanted. It echoed around her, plaintive and childish, which stoked the smoldering embers of her anger, "Or are you just pretending like the trained monkey you are?" She clenched her hands tightly, which shook with a fear she would never let him see. She climbed the steps, waiting for his response, and dreading it.

He looked at her with a poleaxed expression that quickly hardened as he took offense, "Trained monkey? What is this about Madeline?" Why not try telling me what's wrong before you jump straight to the accusations?"

"Of course! He would be the rational one," she fumed inwardly, "And as usual, I'm being the irrational woman!" She topped the stairs, approaching him in a fury. She waved a hand at him, as if gesturing between him and another person, "I am talking about you and Charles, Calan. I am talking about the fact that you have been groomed your entire life to be with me!" Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away furiously.

Calan sighed, running a hand through his still-damp hair, "Look, Madeline, I don't know what you've been hearing, but there's nothing--"

Madeline stomped a foot, thrusting a finger toward him warningly, "Don't tell me there's nothing going on, Calan! I heard it straight from the Baroness and Charles. You can't tell me they were both lying."

Calan's hand moved from his head to his chin, scratching thoughtfully, "Well, I don't know why they decided to spring this on you now." He pulled his robe more tightly around himself and nodded toward the hallway, "Let's go to my room so I can get decent and we can talk about this in private."

Madeline huffed her impatience, but flounced after him as he led the way. They entered his room and he went behind a changing screen while she closed the door. She sat on the foot of his four-poster bed, watching as his silhouette disrobed. He was lean and wiry like a greyhound, but his face was finely honed and really--for lack of a better term--beautiful. His shadow undulated as he moved back and forth, gathering the clothes Roland had set out for him. She could see, in her mind's eye, his thin but muscular body...She shook her head. Now was not the time for that!

"So what is it that you've been told?" Calan asked as he pulled a shirt over his head, "Although, I do wish they had included me in this little meeting."

Madeline waved as if the meeting were unimportant, "Just mother complaining about the horrible job Madren has been doing."

He peered around the corner of the screen, confusion knitting his brows, "So how did we come to doubt me from that particular vein of conversation?" He came around the screen, dressed in soft courderoy breeches and a simple woolen shirt. Not the clothing of a great lord, but comfortable.

Madeline couldn't supress the surge of love that filled her heart, but her mid kept her on track with the matter at hand, "The Baroness introduced me to the lineage of the King's secret consorts. I had no idea Charles was King Stephen's, but they said every consort was loyal to his King, so I'm not surprised. They said you had been chosen and trained to be mine."

Calan threw himself down on his back, onto the main part of the bed behind her. His sandy blond curls fanned out across the deep blue coverlet, his eyes gazing at her carefully, "So, you think, because I was chosen and trained, that my feelings for you are fabricated?"

"Well...yes..." Madeline replied, toying with a fold in her dress, winding and unwinding it around her index finger.

Calan heaved another sigh, his soft gray eyes looking at her with a slight sadness in them, "Do you think I lied when I told you I loved you?"

A lump settled in Madeline's throat as she once again fought back traitorous tears, "I guess..." She got up from the bed and began pacing the room restlessly, "I didn't know what to think, Calan! They said it was part of your training to go along with everything I say, to support me no matter what. So, if I loved you, wouldn't you have to love me in return out of obligation?"

"Of course," Calan replied, "I was trained not to dissent your opinions, because a King must be firm in his decisions with no outside influence."

Madeline stopped her pacing and carefully studied his face for any sign that he was saying anything but the truth. He gazed at her with those guileless smoke-gray eyes and saw the open, heart-felt honesty in them, "All right," she breathed with relief, her shoulders slumping as if a great weight had been lifted, "I'm sorry I came in here like a harpy."

Calan got to his feet and went to her, putting his hands on her shoulders, "I love you, Maddi, and I will always support you because of that. Not because I was trained to do so."

She stepped forward into the warm embrace of his arms, pressing her forehead against the softness of his neck, "I love you, too, Calan. I wish we could just do away with Madren and live like two ordinary people in love..."

She felt Calan's arms tighten around her, but his voice whispered softly into her ear, "So why don't we...?"

"That still doesn't explain why we are still encapsulated in Theresa's lie," Madeline pointed out rather petulantly, her chin jutting out just slightly in her displeasure.

Stefani placed her elbows on the table, steepling her long, elegant fingers beneath her chin. Her heart-shaped face was earnest as she regarded the young woman across from her, "How many wars ravaged Telisrane before the time of King Tremane?"

"Many," Madeline sighed in impatience, still at a loss as to where all this was going, "Just about every year, over one stupid thing or another."

"And how many since?"

Madeline made as if to answer, but was brought up short as her memory catalog of all her history classes came up blank, "Er...I don't know...none?" She managed to stammer out her answer, not even sure if it was correct.

Stefani closed her eyes and nodded briefly, "None. No wars, no famine, no suffering. Why?" Those pale green eyes bore into Madeline, willing her to understand the significance of all these historical markers. Their family secret had been kept for so long because it was important, even vital, to the continued peace and stability of Telisrane. The sooner Madeline understood that, the better.

Again, however, Madeline's brow furrowed as she thought, but it was Charles who supplied the answer from across the room, "Because men of this day and age solve most disputes with a sword, instead of lady-like diplomacy. Women tend to run things a bit differently, say, with a Nurturing Touch, unlike men, who rule with an Iron Fist."

"Exactly," the Baroness nodded her agreement before returning her earnest gaze to her daughter, "Telisrane has been the great Kingdom it has for so long because it has been run, in secret for ten generations, by women."

Madeline absorbed this information carefully, but one thing still made absolutely no sense to her, "So why do we continue to be Kings, though? Why not just rule Telisrane as Queens?"

Stefani smiled slightly, folding her arms neatly upon the table, "It all really has to do with the male mind, Madeline. Most of the people in positions of power throughout Telisrane are men. Men will follow the commands of other men far easier than those of women."

"Not my Calan," Madeline asserted with pride, "He accepts my orders as woman or man; it doesn't matter to him."

The Baroness' smile turned to one of tolerance, as if she were dealing with a particularly dull child, "Yes, of course he will. That is the duty of any good consort. Is that not so, Charles?" She winked at the chamberlain, who smiled in return and bowed slightly, "It is indeed, Baroness. I served King Stephen very well."

Madeline started, blinking in stupefaction, "You mean Charles..." she stared at her mother, wide-eyed, "He was *your* consort?"

Both the Baroness and the chamberlain chuckled in shared amusement, but it was Stefani who responded, "Well, of course. The chamberlains are always carefully chosen and trained by their predecessors. It is a system that has been in place since Theresa's own consort, Evan. From what I hear, it is a very meticulous process. The consort is chosen as a boy and raised very carefully, only when he is of age is the secret of our family revealed and the great duty he has been chosen for explained."

Madeline never truly realized the depth of this family intrigue! It was as complex as an enormous spider's web, reaching as far across Telisrane and the length of Madeline's life. However, she was certain it was just as fragile Just one wrong move or word on anyone's part and a thousand years of peace would be destroyed.

"But I am so tired of living a lie..." she thought sullenly to herself, "I just want to love Calan and be free to be who I really am."

Stefani rose again, breaking Madeline's momentary reverie, "I need to get back to the Barony. We still have much to do before Harvestfest and the Holy Weeks." She regarded her daughter seriously, reaching out with one of those delicate hands to cup Madeline's stubborn chin, "Let's have no more foolishness out of Madren for a while, hm?" With that, the Baroness departed, Charles holding the door open for her as she swept past in her voluminous gown.


After the visit with the Baroness, Madren had no appointments until the evening, so that left Madeline with some free time. It was just as well, since she planned to utilize that time to get a few more answers. She made her way down the winding streets of the castle-city within the walls where most of the gentry estates resided. Her feet moved of their own accord, having travelled this way many times by now, but her thoughts were a fretted, fraying ball of concern, "There is no way Calan is only supporting me because Charles trained him to do so! We love each other. I trust his judgement...."

The steward of Calan's estate was quite startled to find the King's chatelaine on the doorstep. Not because it was uncommon, in fact, it happened rather frequently, but because it was truly unexpected. Usually, Madeline made arrangements for her visits, but for her peace of mind there just wasn't time. She needed to know the truth of Calan's feelings, and she needed to know immediately.

"My lord is not expecting any guests this afternoon, milady..." the steward coughed uncomfortably, unsure of how to dismiss this unannounced guest.

"I don't care," Madeline snapped, "I'm here on the King's business." She elbowed her way past the annoying little man, raising her voice to send it echoing through the entry hall, "Calan! I want to see you, right this instant!"

King Madren scratched irritably at his goatee; he hated the thing, really, but it was an important part of the ruse. No one would believe in him if he couldn’t grow a proper manly beard. As he pondered the aspect of beards in a King’s life, he only lent scant attention to the serf kneeling at the foot of the throne’s dias.

“So you see, my liege, if we could just move the cattle to the southern tracts…”

Madren was really going to have to speak with Charles about these wretched corsets, the eunuchs tied them far more tightly than he considered needful. Bad enough he had to contend with this blasted moustache tickling his nose, but it was worse that he had to remind himself to breathe every so often! Maybe he could pass an edict banning the use of corsets…

“Your Highness?” the serf prompted, looking at him expectantly. Almost immediately, Madren cast an imperceptible side-long glance toward Charles, his chamberlain, to which the man gave an unnoticeable shake of the head.

Heaving a sigh, Madren waved a hand negligently at the serf, “No, I’m sorry. It’s just not possible at this point, perhaps next season.” As the serf trudged his way out, a minstrel began to play which signaled the end of that day’s audience, for which Madren was enormously glad. He wanted nothing more than to get out of this monkey suit and into a proper dress! Apparently, however, Charles had other designs for him as the chamberlain stepped closer to his side, causing Madren to frown inwardly.

“Your Highness would do well to remember that the dowager Baroness Stefani is to visit for tea next hour,” Charles said in a tone that insinuated there was no avoiding this particular social call.

“Oh, very well,” Madren grumped, “but can I at least be comfortable when I do so?”

“As Your Majesty wishes, since it is your mother who is visiting, I’m sure she would not object to meeting with Madeline,” Charles advised with a deep, courtly bow. He was one of the few men in all of Telisrane that was privy to their deadly family secret.

“Excellent,” Madren rose, handing the scepter of office off to an underling who awaited with the velvet-lined case, “Please, inform the dowager Baroness that I shall be with her shortly.” With that, Charles went off to see to it that the Baroness’ comfort was seen to until the arrival of the King’s chatelaine.

Madren arrived in his personal apartment a few minutes later, heaving a sigh of relief. Impatiently, he gestured to his body servants, “Well, come on, get me out of here!” Thus, did the great task of transformation begin.


Baroness Stefani sat admiring the view from the window, which overlooked the King’s orchard. Already, it was only mid-autumn and the apple trees were in full bloom. If the serfs were attentive enough, there would be a bountiful harvest, which meant all the more apple wine to grace the King’s table come the winter and holy days. The door opened, disturbing Stefani from her thoughts, but as courtesy demanded, she pressed the flat of her hands to the table to prepare to rise at the entrance of the King.

“Don’t bother, milady,” Charles said, closing the door behind him, “It is only me. The King sends his regrets at not coming to meet you personally, but he will be sending his chatelaine, Madeline, to keep you company.”

If this news dismayed her, Stefani showed no sign, “I suppose it’s to be expected, he is a busy individual, after all.” Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her tunic as she rose from her chair, “Is the Lady Madeline coming to meet me here?”

“Yes, milady,” Charles replied with a slight nod, “Once she finishes with His Highness’ after-audience needs, I’m sure she’ll be along.” The chamberlain stationed himself by the door to ensure the Baroness’ continued privacy.

Stefani walked back to the window, although this time the view was wasted on her as the contemplated other troubles, “Madeline’s problem with Madren concerns me, Charles,” she said quietly, her reflection revealing haunted eyes that the world never saw, “Even at my remote estate, I have heard rumors of the King’s inattention at audience as of late. In fact, just the other day Duke Sommersby said that Madren almost let the Earl of Wrenwood have exclusive logging rights throughout the eastern counties! Sommersby was livid. Also, from what the eunuchs tell me, Madren has been letting Madeline venture pass into the Outer Township!” She huffed slightly in exasperation, a slight flush rising to her pale cheeks, “A chatelaine having free reign around the palace is one thing, even in the castle-town proper is fine, but among the general township beyond the Siege Wall? That is unacceptable!” A tendril of straw-blonde hair came loose from the coif on her head, and she pushed it back into place with an impatient hand.

“Madren is King, milady…” Charles supplied, as if that were excuse enough, but that did not satisfy Stefani, who responded, “Stephen was King, too, and he never took such risks!”

“Unfortunately, milady, Madren does not have Stephen’s wisdom, nor did he have as wise a consort,” he smiled in some private amusement.

Stefani crossed her arms, watching the field-hands below clearing weeds from beneath the orchard trees, “Speaking of consorts, is the boy ready yet? You should have been able to retire long before now. The Barony has been empty and I am truly tired of running things alone. It would be nice to have a Baron on the estate again.” At that point, she half-turned, looking at the chamberlain with a sweet smile filled with secret promise.

“Soon, milady,” Charles said softly, his heart warmed by those sweet, mint-green eyes, “I think he will do very well if we can ever control Madeline’s irresponsible behavior…”

“Talking about me, I see,” interrupted a breathy contralto, as a young woman of late twenties or early thirties sashayed into the room. Her deep brown hair fell to her waist, and her emerald green eyes flashed with feigned innocence, “Nothing too dreadful, I hope.”

At the impertinent young woman’s entrance, the smile fell from the Baroness’ countenance, “Of course not, Lady Madeline, just the increasing incompetence of your King,” Stefani’s voice took on a slightly cold edge as she once again crossed her arms over her chest. She received a momentary flash of venomous pleasure, too, as Madeline bristled for a brief second before regaining her composure.

The young woman approached the Baroness, her long silken gown swishing around her feet as her hips swung the fabric like a bell, “Whatever do you mean, Baroness? I haven’t heard any complaints about King Madren.”

“Naturally not,” Stefani said, moving away from the chatelaine to once more resume the chair she’d abandoned at Charles’ entrance, “You, my lady chatelaine, are far too busy gallivanting in the City Beyond the Wall; a place, might I remind you, that you have no business being.”

Madeline’s posture stiffened, and her hands clenched and unclenched in her efforts to stay in control and speak calmly, “It’s good to see that you still maintain King Stephen’s network of spies, Mother, but my affairs are my own.”

The Baroness arched a delicate golden brow, reaching into an inner pocket of her dress and expertly removing a fan, unfolding it, and beginning to fan herself with it all in a single, fluid movement, “Well, when I begin hearing disturbing rumors, even out in my distant barony, about the King almost making ludicrous agreements with slippery Earls, I tend to become slightly curious. Tell me, isn’t Madren a little young to be displaying signs of senility?”

The Baroness’ tone had been casual, but the implied insult had been mortal. Madeline’s eyes went wide as she advanced furiously on the seated Baroness, “How dare you! I don’t care if you are my Mother! Who are you to question how I run my kingdom?!”

Baroness Stefani looked at her quite calmly, although her tone once again took a slight edge to it, “You forget yourself and your place, Lady Madeline…”

The chatelaine waved a hand in dismissal, “Oh, come off it, Mother! Everyone that is in this room is party to our little family secret, so let’s just drop the pretenses. Who told you about the Wrenwood Proposition?”

Like a striking cobra, Stefani was out of her chair and had slapped Madeline across the face before the young girl could even blink, leaving an audible echo reverberating around the silent room, “You are an idiot and a fool,” Stefani fumed, her pale green eyes blazing, “Our family secret has been a secret for ten generations because we were careful. None of the previous Kings of Telisrane treated their positions as callously as you!”

Madeline stood there, rubbing at her cheek as she glared sullenly at the dowager Baroness, “Well…maybe…maybe it’s time we did away with this stupid secret…” she said somewhat lamely.

“What a preposterous thing to say!” Stefani snorted derisively, “Telisrane has enjoyed her peace and prosperity because of our secret.”

“What I don’t understand is why we have to perpetuate this lifetime of lies,” Madeline whined slightly, her anger diminishing in the aftermath of the Baroness’ violence, “Why can’t we be free to be who we are?”

The Baroness sighed and motioned to the empty chair across the table, “Sit, and I will help you to understand.” Madeline went obediently to the chair, her cheek still hot from the impact of her Mother’s hand. As she looked to her Mother, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret. Her mother looked older than Madeline remembered, as if the weight of their secret had crushed her for years.

“What do you remember of your history lessons, Madeline?” Stefani began, “When was the last war in Telisrane?”

“That’s easy,” Madeline responded immediately, “It was about a thousand years ago, when King Tremane went on that psychotic rampage against the Caldurians.”

“Ah, but do you realize that it was not King Tremane that led that army, but his twin sister, Theresa?”

“What?” Madeline’s brow furrowed, she had paid attention to her tutors, she couldn’t have gotten it that wong, “King Tremane was the last actual male King of Telisrane…”

“It’s true, he was. At least, up until he was assassinated by the Caldurian Council,” Stefani explained, once more assuming the chair across the table, “Theresa went mad with grief, so she made herself up as a man and went to war against the Caldurians to avenge her brother. Yet, once the war was over, and everyone returned home, she couldn’t just drop her brother’s role as King now that she had assumed it. She would have unwittingly plunged all of Telisrane into a bloody civil war over whom would ascend the throne. So, as history knows it, Theresa was the one who had been assassinated, which had driven Tremane to war.”

Well, it's here! NaNoWriMo is in full-swing already, and I can feel the energy in the air on the WriMo site, in Nano Comms and Forums everywhere. :) Everyone is all a-buzz with story ideas, helpful hints, and there's just a wonderful feel about everything.

2005 is actually the first NaNoWriMo I have had the courage to actually "compete" in. I've always been afraid of failure as a writer, so NaNoWriMo has always presented itself as this huge Goliath of a project that I was always afraid I'd never complete. After having been in a writing slump for the last two years, I decided I'd take hold of my Muse and give her a swing around the dance floor to see if the magic between us is really gone, or if it's just been hiding these past couple of years.

So, my first NaNo ever is entitled "A Line Unbroken". It is basically the story of a kingdom that has enjoyed peace and prosperity for a thousand years, ruled by a dynasty of eclectic kings. However, the big secret that is revealed early on is that all these Kings have actually been cross-dressing Queens! The big issue of the story follows the current reigning "King" who is unhappy with the way things are and just wants to be herself, she's tired of hiding. Yet,if she breaks the family secret now, after 1,000 years, the kingdom itself isn't going to be very happy. Will she choose her own personal happiness over the duty she has to her kingdom? Or will she go live happily ever after while plunging the realm into absolute chaos?

Keep tabs here to find out the full story! Be sure to friend my profile on NaNoWriMo!