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--donation bonus (day #5, post 1/5)--
‘I would have thought a reaper of death to be well-suited to the task of waiting.’

‘Suited. Not pleased.’

When the large doors opened once more and a young woman entered, Helen stood to greet her. “Please have a seat,” she said.

The girl sat. She removed the sheathed sword from her belt and rested it by her side--a respectful gesture, if a bit antiquated due to the decline of swords among the Queen’s Guard.

Lynnette Edith was her name. Only nineteen, according to her file, but her sharp eyes and harsh cheek bones made her look older. Her caramel brown skin clashed against the white-and-blue uniform. She kept her wavy, raven hair in a braided ponytail that came over her shoulder, and she was clearly not afraid to look the Queen in the eye.

“Do you carry that weapon wherever you go?” Helen asked.

“Yes, I do, Your Highness.”

Helen did not let the silence last. “You are curious as to your presence here, no?”

“Yes, ma’am. Everyone is.”

“It is all a ruse,” the Queen said.

“Ma’am...?”

“To organize this very meeting with you,” she explained. “If I met with you out of the blue, everyone would wonder why. You would be given far too much attention, which would ruin everything. If I meet with all one hundred and twelve of my Guard, however, then this meeting here becomes a matter of course.”

Lynnette’s posture stiffened. “Why would Your Highness wish to have a secret meeting with me? What could I possibly--?”

“You are one of the few people in this castle whom I believe I can trust. Most of your peers carry obligations toward their families, which exist within a sphere of complications and nuisances, to put it mildly. Your family, however, affords me no such trouble.”