The worm in the radish doesn't think there is anything sweeter. -Sholom Aleichem
We take a handful of sand from the endless landscape of awareness around us, and call that handful of sand the world. -Robert Pirsig
Daffodil woke early, lest the queen rise before she did. She made certain everything was ready for the day, and told the night guard where she would be. She threw on a simple sparring robe and went to the practice yard behind the garden to hone her skills. The sun would not rise for a couple more hours, so in only starlight and a bit of distant torchlight she practiced, fighting an imagined attacker, armed and unarmed, as if it were a solo dance. As the faint glow of false dawn glimmered in the east, she went and wandered through the garden, letting the fragrant honeysuckle relax her before she headed inside. She bathed and changed into her servant's robes, a simple beige wrap dress embroidered with the royal crest and trimmed in stylized blossoms. She braided back her hair, put a pot of tea on to brew, and went to the window to greet the dawn formally.
The queen came out of her quarters just as the sun was first visible over the mountains. "Stargazing again? It's a wonder you have any time to get work done, child."
"Sorry, milady, the tea is nearly ready. The priestess told me I should contemplate the world around me more."
"I suppose you should. You never get out to the gardens anymore. It's a shame really."
Daffodil poured the queen some tea, and some for herself, and took a sip. The queen watched her closely, then sipped her own tea. Daffodil gathered the fancy robes and accessories the queen would wear that day. When the queen was done her tea, she said, "hurry up and help me get ready, I do not wish to be in my night clothes when breakfast arrives."
"Yes, milady." Daffodil helped her into the finely embroidered robes, today in green and gold, and helped tie feathers, beads, and silver clips into her long jet black hair. Along her tail she put a bangle at the base, and carefully brushed it so it would seem fluffier. No sooner had she finished when a servant knocked at the door quietly, and Daffodil went to answer it. Surprisingly, it was one of the male kitchen servants, not her friend Rosemary.
"I will take in the tray for you, sir."
"Of course. Rosemary is ill, I was sent in her stead," he explained quietly, as he handed it to her.
As she brought it in, the queen looked at her, perplexed. "Why did she not bring it in as usual?"
"Rosemary is ill."
"You will see to it that the doctor goes around, and bring her some tea. It will not do to have my best scullery maid ill."
"Yes, milady."
More quietly, when she was sure the other servant was out of earshot, she said, "She is a good friend of yours, yes? Make sure you spend time with her, lift her spirits some. I will see to it that your absence is not questioned."
"Yes, milady, thank you," said Daffodil with a gentle smile. This was a great gift, as even a moment's absence usually brought her great torment from the servants and ladies in waiting.
After breakfast, the queen was to meet with the wife of the human leader. Actually, both had come, and he was waiting for an audience with the king. Both bowed graciously, but shallowly to the queen, and thanked her for her hospitality. He was a new one, Daffodil didn't recognize either of them. He reached out to shake her hand, and she froze, staring at it. Luckily a manservant stepped forward and took his hand in a polite handshake, leaning in to whisper, "I am sorry, sir, but that is not appropriate in our culture."