“Do you think Kettricken will become such a Queen?” I asked politely. I had no idea where this conversation would lead.
“I do not know,” she said softly. She stirred the coals idly again. “I only know that I would not have been one.” She sighed heavily, then lifted her eyes to say almost apologetically, “I am having one of those mornings, Fitz, when all that fills my head is what might have been and what could have been. I should never have allowed him to abdicate. I’d wager he’d be alive today, if he had not.”
There seemed little reply I could make. to such a statement. She sighed again, and drew on the hearthstones with the ash coated poker. “I am a woman of longings today, Fitz. While everyone else yesterday was stirred to amazement at what Kettricken did, it awakened in me the deepest discontent with myself. Had I been in her position, I would have hidden away in my chamber. Just as I do now. But your grandmother would not have. Now there was a Queen. Like Kettricken in some ways. Constance was a woman who spurred others to action. Other women especially. When she was queen, over half our guard was female. Did you know that? Ask Hod about her sometime. I understand that Hod came with her when Constance came here to be Shrewd’s queen.” Patience fell silent. For a few moments she was so quiet I thought she was finished speaking. Then she added softly, “She liked me, Queen Constance did.” She smiled almost shyly.
“She knew I did not care for crowds. So, sometimes, she would summon me, and only me, to come and attend her in her garden. And we would not even speak much, but only work quietly in the soil and the sunlight. Some of my pleasantest memories of Buckkeep are of those times.” She looked up at me suddenly. “I was just a little girl then. And your father was just a boy, and we had not ever really met. My parents brought me to Buckkeep, the times they came to court, even though they knew I did not much care for all the folderol of court life. What a woman Queen Constance was, to notice a homely, quiet little girl, and give her of her time. But she was like that. Buckkeep was a different place then; a much merrier court. Times were safer, and all was more stable. But then Constance died, and her infant daughter with her, of a birth fever. And Shrewd remarried a few years later, and …” She paused and sighed again suddenly. Then her lips firmed. She patted the hearth beside her.