Free In the Skin of a Nunqua by R. J. Pouritt Page A

roses painted on her arms, “I don’t see why your personal guard has to be near you all the time. Can’t she stand in the hallway or somewhere less conspicuous?”
    “Yes, Rega,” said another Fortunate Daughter, reclining in a chaise. “She’s too menacing. Perhaps she should dress more appropriately for the castle. Send her to the painter for some body art.”
    “I doubt it would help.”
    The Daughters of Fortunate Birth laughed—a practiced laugh sounding like the sweet chirping of birds. Shanti knew not to respond to their insults. She was a guard—emotionless, invisible.
    Not for long.
    Rega Bayla uncupped her hands to release the treasure within. The caterpillar, now a butterfly with bright blue wings, crawled to the tip of her finger. “I’ll speak to my father tonight about her. After that, she won’t be a problem.”
    Few were aware of Bayla’s strange power—a well-guarded royal secret. Shanti had spent enough time with the princess to know. The Daughters of Fortunate Birth also knew. The young women acted entranced when Bayla displayed her unnatural skills. But Shanti detected fear. The Daughters of Fortunate Birth were frightened of Bayla, every single one. The princess, heiress to the throne of Willovia, was a witch. And many of the citizens of Willovia believed that witches were evil.
    The butterfly, the tiny miracle conjured by Bayla, danced about the room and fluttered out the window into a sky of blue. Without moving her head, Shanti watched the butterfly escape the confines of the castle, and she, too, wished for wings.
    *
    Shanti followed Bayla into a chamber packed with guests after the castle feast. Atonal notes of instruments being tuned echoed off the high ceiling. Shanti stood by the entrance with her back to the wall and listened to the conversation between King Magen and his daughter—not difficult, since Bayla made no attempt to hide her venom.
    “But, Father,” Bayla said, “she doesn’t even address me as ‘Rega.’ Due to her insubordination, I feel she must not be allowed to serve as my personal guard.”
    “Then whom do you suggest?” Magen said.
    “The royal guards who have served me in the past.”
    “Half the royal guards, along with most of our troops, are at the Outer Boundaries, defending the country from attack. She will continue to be your protection.”
    “She’s a misfit in this castle. You must—”
    “Bayla, she stays. It is by my order as king that she is your guard.” Magen’s voice softened. “Stay close to her. The monks have warned me that enemies are preparing to invade Willovia.”
    “Thank you, Father, for respecting my opinions. Your belief in me means so much.” She performed a quick curtsy, then left her father standing alone.
    Shanti stood in surprised silence. Odd that King Magen should refuse Bayla’s request. The Guardians of Willovia, it appeared, had stronger influence over him than his own daughter.
    Joyful music began to play, and Bayla stormed out of the hall. Shanti glanced at her face when she passed.
    Bayla turned on her toes and positioned herself in front of Shanti, the top of her head level with the bottom of Shanti’s chin. “Look at me again, and I’ll have you flogged.”
    A hollow threat. No royal guard would punish her for glancing at the princess. Not even High Commander Kyros would obey such an outrageous command. The princess was so young, so naive. Shanti returned her attention to the guests, only barely managing to keep a smirk off her lips.
    “Is something funny?”
    “No, Rega.”
    “Careful, guard. You’re not as important as you think.”
    Oh, but I am .
    *
    Shanti walked outside with the two royal guards who had earlier flanked the entrance to the king’s quarters. The spears the men had carried were put away for the night. It was dark, and the three off-duty guards entered the castle’s kitchen, where workers cleaned dishes and swept the floor. The guards asked if they could have a taste of the