The island called Lindsor Patch contained a few dozen or so residents with a single dock. Its name came from the extensive coral reef inhabiting the island’s southern side filled with colorful fish and exotic gemstones. The islanders mined at the sand and hidden rock to pull free turquoise gems like the one sitting on Gyla’s collarbone. They also bred the local clams for pearls and would take them to Lindsor Port. A small harbor with a tiny stone manor run by Viscountess Ko She’d been widowed shortly after coming into the family and was left with a young son as heir. She managed the town well and always reported to the duke and count in a timely manner. 

“I gained the Count of Lindsor Patch, which includes not only the island and reef but Lindsor Port as well when I returned from the southern rebellions,” the duke explained as they settled into the manor. “Viscountess Ko is visiting her mother for the festival, I hope that is alright, Your Majesty.” 

“Oh, of course!” Queen Farida walked the tiny living space before smiling at the nervous duke. “I understand her position to be very difficult. I would not wish to make things harder for her.” 

Gyla knew he’d been granted the title by his father’s plea to the king. For his military service and the need to create a county here, the king accepted. The now duke took to his duties with vigor and managed to create a profitable economy without expropriating the existing people. 

“Please rest,” he bowed and left them. 

The two-day ride had placed a sore in Gyla’s bottom. She stretched her legs by exploring the two story manor of stone. The rooms are half the size of Aedon’s but welcoming with colorful, thick drapes and simple bedding. Seashells filled jars on the tables and bouquets sat in each room, all local petals and scents. 

“It is very homey here,” Lady Cur locked her arm with Gyla’s. 

“It is. Much warmer too.” They giggled together. 

After breakfast the next day, they set off into town to speak with the locals. They prepared for the queen’s arrival in advance and pastries and drinks awaited the tour. 

Little girls grasped onto Gyla’s skirts, eyes on her red locks. Like in Aveka, she kneeled down and let them run chubby hands through her hair. One girl tugged hard and Gyla squeaked as she lost balance. A warm hand pressed to her back to stop her fall and she saw the duke looking down. That crinkle back on his forehead.

The girl’s mother fussed at her rude child. 

“It’s quite alright,” Gyla brushed off her skirts and accepted the duke’s hand to stand. “I am used to such things.” 

“I would assume red hair is a more common sight at home,” the duke noted. 

“Red hair is a southern trait, my good duke,” Queen Farida interrupted. “But, should any call Baroness Theodora a southerner, you will quickly find out how well she embodies the Rooke crest.”

Gyla snorted softly. 

“No true northerner would ever insult my mother, Your Majesty. She was storm-born,” Gyla laughed politely behind a hand and the other ladies followed. 

Duke Dominis did not comment, but that soft smile returned to his face and his gaze kept to her the entire time. Even as they walked on, she could feel his eyes on her. 

Due to the shallow shores of the island, boats could not easily come and go. They could manage to round the north side and enter the harbor that way, but docking at the island’s dock would need to be done with either a small fishing boat or the ferry Dominis ordered as soon as he became count. The ferry began at the south side of the island to avoid any larger boats heading for the harbor. 

Tamaias and his family ran the ferry. He would pull them across with a chain on what Gyla would call a box. Wooden planks made the floor and shorter planks made walls around them. She could barely see past them and did not dare to stand on tiptoes to look. 

“We make the walls high because of the medusas and leviathans,” Tamaias explained as he helped them board. “The winds also make it difficult.” 

It would only be Queen Farida, Captain Colt, Lady Sylvia, Lady Gyla, the duke, and two guards. Ajax and Phlad were chosen to remain in town with Lady Cur who would not do well on the sea. Ajax wanted to protest but he wisely kept his mouth shut and watched them head off. Gyla smiled at him. He would be interrogating her about this later. No doubt, he kept tabs on everything so that once they set foot back into Bellesea, he could report to her father. 

Gyla couldn’t get around it, so she might as well ignore it. 

The chief of the island, Posar, greeted with a large grin and a deep bow. 

“Be welcome to our humble island, my lady,” he spoke with a slow drawl, almost lisping.

Duke Dominis opened his mouth to correct Posar. Queen Farida should be addressed as Her Majesty, not my lady. However, the queen grabbed his elbow and squeezed hard as she accepted his warm greeting as just that. A warm greeting with no malicious intent. 

“Thank you, my good chief.” Queen Farida made a sharp gesture and Lady Sylvia and Gyla approached. “Please meet my ladies, Sylvia and Gyla.” 

“We are excited to host you for the day!” 

Carefully practiced words, Gyla guessed. The Viscountess must have helped them prepare before leaving. She also figured the true reason behind the absence was actually there would not be enough space to host everyone in the manor. Gyla would need to speak to the queen about a kind letter for Viscountess Ko. 

The island provided some exploring initiated by Posar and his young grandchildren. All the inhabitants welcomed them with smiles and less than graceful bows. Gyla gladly curtsied to all the children, making them giggle and go hide behind their mothers’ skirts. Sylvia got pulled into a dance, a simple circle of skipping around. 

Dinner was local cuisine of fish and vegetables followed by watching the harvest of pearls. 

Gyla wandered down the shoreline a little ways from where the queen harshly argued against any free pearls. 

“Is the island to your tastes, my lady?” Posar followed her and stood with her as she watched the tide lap at the sand. 

Gyla chuckled at his careful wording, oddly falling off his tongue. 

“Your island is very beautiful, chief Posar.” He scoffed at her title for him and glanced away. The man undoubtedly did not get called chief by his fellows. Only Duke Dominis referred to him as such. “Tell me, does your duke and count treat you well?” 

“Oh, Ba- Duke Dominis is very wonderful!” He scuffed the sand with his boot. “He has helped my people when the worst of storms come and has provided us a way to contribute. Before, we were just a small island of fishermen.” 

Gyla nodded. She guessed right. Here, on this island, the duke became Basil. The scarred man that brought prosperity to this little section of the coast. 

“Tell me this, chief Posar, I saw hives on the other side of the island. Do you make honey paste?”