… things are looking very grim. The Red Queen held court, plying calories about, knowing her feasting minions wouldn’t pay close attention to last spending spree she was proposing before abdicating. The planned worked, except for the naming of a monument, which actually brought the group to an abrupt chewing stop.
Looking at each other, shaking their heads, they held their thumbs down, with their non-spoon hand. Then resumed eating.
The fate of Nicky, The Iron Maiden, so coveted and sought after by the Red Queen, was brought up by a knight errant. The Red Queen sneered. The group grew quiet, chewing as silent as they could. The old fat gray haired knight asked when the Queen planned to minister to Nicky’s needs.
The Red Queen smiled, passed the specter of power to the waiting princess, and smiling said: “Not my problem.”
No one knows Nicky’s fate.