Never in all of her brief little life had Pirouette felt such grief. If her beloved GarGar were a hostage or prisoner of war, then she would know how to bring him home, safe and sound. On the other hand, if he was just a corpse, rotting in a field, providing food for crows and vultures, at least his caloric contribution to the ecosystem would be of some value.
For many days, Queen Pirouette had sequestered herself into her private chambers. Black curtains were draped on every window. It was the not knowing that was crushing the young Queen. How does someone simply vanish? Especially someone as well-known as le comte des Deux Chats? The only person granted entrance into the Queen’s bedchamber was her friend Abigail, whose rank as the Queen’s chief lady in waiting made her the second-most important person at court. She would gently knock on the door, just twice and then enter unannounced. Despite all attempts, Abigail was unable to to tempt Pirouette to eat. She consented to the occasional cup of tea, but besides that, Her Majesty was refusing all sustenance.
The last thing poor, young Pirouette felt was hunger, at least physical hunger. Her heart ached for news- any news- that might dispel the fears that her fertile imagination conjured up.