Forbidden Queen: A Court Intrigue Fantasy (The Forbidden Queen Series Book 1)

by R. J. Vickers

  “I have only done what you bade me to, eighteen years ago,” Mother said. I was surprised to hear a quaver in her voice.

  “And I cannot fault you for that. But our nephew, Prince Leoth, has announced his bid for the throne, and he has much support among the other ruling families. Anti-magical sentiment has been spreading among the townsfolk as well. I believe it started with Kalleah’s birth, but it has festered and grown over the years. We will make many enemies when we present our daughter at court.”

  “I can leave,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. I had spent my entire life waiting for this moment, but if my very presence would cause turmoil, my desire for the throne was not worth destabilizing a kingdom. “You can pretend I was never here. I know how to make my way in the world—Mother can stay here, and I can go elsewhere.”

  The king patted my arm gently. “You are very kind, Kalleah. But I would prefer to keep Leoth off the throne. I suspect he is behind much of the anti-magical discourse in town. He and his parents—my brother and sister-in-law—have no magic, and they feel our country has steadily rewarded and raised up those with power while stripping the privileges of those without. It is hardly true, but it has won him much support.”

  “Do you have a talent?” I blurted out. I had asked Mother before, and she had never given me a straight answer.

  “I have a minor talent for Dreamweaving,” the king said. “It is not enough to be useful—I can suggest images or phrases for dreams, but not paint the scenery or lay out events like a well-told story, the way those who practice the art for a living can do.”

  He turned to Mother. “Did you tell Kalleah where her power came from?”

  “No. The secret is yours to tell.”

  “We ought to find somewhere private for this conversation,” the king said. For my benefit, he added, “My brother and his son share our wing of the palace.”

  “Let’s show Kalleah her room,” Mother suggested.

  I followed my parents down the airy hallway to a plush sitting-room complete with wide windows that I assumed would offer a sweeping view on a clear day. From there, we followed a narrower corridor to the end, where a staircase spiraled up as far as I could see. The dizzying climb went on for what felt like several stories.

  At the top, we came onto a small landing that opened to a circular room larger than I had expected from the size of the staircase. A four-poster bed with a canopy dominated one side of the room, while a dressing-table and wardrobe sat nearby. There was even a polished writing desk beneath one of the wide, arched windows, and a separate table with two cushioned chairs beneath the opposite window—in case I wished to entertain visitors for tea, I supposed.

  “Have you been expecting us?” Mother asked, running a finger over the writing desk. “This has been dusted recently.”

  The king coughed. “Ever since Kalleah’s eighteenth birthday, I have kept it ready. I did not think you would forget your promise.”

  He took a seat at the table, and I removed both the sodden cloak and oilskin coat before settling onto the edge of the bed.

  “You must be exhausted from your travels, but I want you to be prepared before you have to face your opposition. One question you will undoubtedly be asked is whether I am your father at all.”

  The king sighed and lifted the crown from his head so he could run a hand through his dark hair. “We have long tried to keep the ruling families free from the taint of forbidden magical blood. Your mother faced hatred and mistrust when she gave birth to you, for people thought she had betrayed me and slept with another. But the forbidden blood is from my side.

  “I never knew who my true father was—the king before me was infertile, so he asked his wife to lie with another man to give him an heir. My parents are no longer with us, and we hope the secret has died with them. If the public were to learn of this, my legitimacy would be questioned, and your claim to the throne would be weakened. Do you understand?”

  I nodded quickly.

  “As for my brother Olleack, he is no true brother of mine. The king before me remarried and managed to bear a single legitimate child—Olleack—so he and his son Leoth carry far more royal blood than our family. But the king never told this to Olleack, so he thinks we are blood brothers. You can see why this could prove our undoing.”

  “And you’re certain I shouldn’t just step aside and let this Leoth have the throne he so desperately wants.”

  “You must never give him a chance to seize power,” the king said grimly. “The reason I have told you this is not to worry you, but to prepare you for the questions you will undoubtedly receive about your mother. I want you to know she is an honorable woman, whatever you hear.”

  Mother had been standing at the window, gazing out on the storm that still raged below. When she turned back to us, her expression betrayed nothing of her thoughts.

  “I will find something suitable for you to wear, Kalleah, and send someone up to help dress you.” Her tone was businesslike. “We will call for an audience an hour from now. Meet us at the Cheltish wing common area before then.”

  When the king stood, I stood as well, and dropped into another curtsey. Mother had drilled me endlessly on etiquette, but I was unsure how I ought to act around my father.

  “No need for such formality when we are alone,” the king said, patting me on the shoulder.

  I rose from my curtsey. “Sorry. I will learn quickly, I promise.”

  Mother gave me an encouraging smile before following the king from my room. I could hear their footsteps creaking on the way down the stairs.

  Alone, I stood in the middle of the tower room, feeling lost. Despite everything Mother had told me, I had not expected Baylore to be so vast. I had imagined the city as a village perhaps twenty or fifty times the size of Ambervale, mud and stone cottages packed densely within a wall, sharing fences, but I now realized how naïve my mental picture had been. This was no sprawling village. I hadn’t even seen a scrap of grass since we arrived. Baylore was larger than many thousands of villages crammed together one on top of the other; even the small portion of the palace I had seen so far could have swallowed every cottage in Ambervale.

  This sprawling forest of stone intimidated me. Mother had spoken only of her love for Baylore, but I could not see its charm. Right now it felt lifeless and cold.

  At least my tower had windows. I enjoyed the idea of standing high above the city to gaze down on my domain, but the room itself was so empty. The dressing-table held nothing but a tall mirror and a hair-brush, and there were no books or trinkets anywhere. I had arrived with no possessions at all. The saddlebags with our travelers’ food had been left in the city stables with the horses, and my other valuables—the pillow I had painstakingly embroidered, the rocks I had collected from my explorations farther up the mountainsides than I ought to have gone, the well-worn Iceling tales and children’s stories I still loved—lay abandoned at our cottage in Ambervale.

  For the first time, a pang of homesickness struck me.

  The third window in my bedchamber had a window seat beneath it, complete with a plush cushion, and it was there I sat as I waited for someone to appear with a new gown. Lyla had dressed me several times before, fixing my hair in the styles of the court, so I knew what it was like to have a lady-in-waiting fuss over me; I had never enjoyed it much, and now I wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. Foot tapping against the stone wall, I gazed out at the rain as it pounded on the mismatched roofs and spires of the palace far below, lightning streaking across the sky from time to time. Would I survive the coming days?

  Before long, a hesitant knock came at the door, and I hastened to let a thin, nervous-looking woman just a few years my senior into the tower room.

  “I was sent to help your ladyship prepare for an appearance before the court.” When the lady-in-waiting curtseyed, the billowing fabric in her arms obscured her face.

  “Thank you,” I said. “Are you meant to be my personal lady-in-wai
ting, or are you just helping me today?”

  From the wide-eyed look on the poor woman’s face, I guessed she had not considered the idea that she might be stuck with me from here on. She rose from her curtsey and scurried over to deposit her pile of dresses on my bed.

  “This is a small room for a member of the royal family,” she said anxiously. “We don’t have the proper furniture here. You’ll need a screen, and a much larger wardrobe. Though I don’t know how we’re supposed to get a wardrobe up all those stairs.” She spoke in a rush.

  “I love it,” I said firmly. “We can make do for now. I have been sleeping on the ground for many quarters now—this is a luxury compared to life on the road.” I did not mention that this room was finer than any I had been in before, at any point in my life. Even the servants’ quarters were likely better appointed than our cottage in Ambervale.

  “Right then,” the lady-in-waiting said. She dug in the pile of dresses and fished out a simple white shift that looked as though it had been tailored for someone with a much larger bosom than me.

  I did not want my ignorance to fuel a span’s worth of rumors among the palace servants, so I stripped and pulled on the shift without asking for further instruction. I assumed it was meant to be worn beneath another dress, rather than on its own as a nightgown.

  From there, the lady-in-waiting began giving me orders to lift my arms and turn this way or that. It soon became evident that what I had thought was a whole pile of dresses was in fact just one dress, dissected into multiple layers. There were three separate skirts—two with flounces to give the top one a swishy sort of volume, and one of a delicate blue that the darker blue dress itself was slashed away to reveal—and a mess of laces at the back of the bodice. With this sort of fashion, it was easy to see why a lady-in-waiting was required for the simple art of dressing oneself.

  Once the dress was in place to the woman’s satisfaction, she produced a set of brushes and combs to attack my hair.

  “Wait a moment,” I warned. “I can brush my hair without your help.” After three days without any tending, my hair would be a mess of snarls, and I knew from experience how painful it would be to tame.

  “Of course.” The woman stepped back at once, dropping the brush.

  I felt silly tugging knots from my hair in such a fancy dress, the stiff and voluminous sleeves restricting my movement, and I cast around for something to distract the lady-in-waiting so she didn’t just stare at me.

  “Do you just work for my family, or for the palace overall?” I asked.

  “Just for your family, your ladyship. Most of the staff do.” She was still talking too fast; it set my nerves on edge. “You haven’t been here before, have you? Beg pardon, but they’re saying you summoned up this storm to make a dramatic entrance.”

  I snorted. “If you’ve heard that, you will have heard about my power. And I can assure you I’m no Cloudmage.”

  “Of course not, your ladyship.” The woman blushed. “Are you truly here to take your father’s throne? That’s what everyone is saying.”

  “I am my father’s rightful heir, so yes, I intend to present my claim.” I spoke slower than usual, wishing the woman would calm down. “And no, I have never been here before. With the speed news seems to travel at the palace, surely you would have heard about me if I had visited in the past.”

  “Right. Of course.” She took a deep breath. “Are you done with your hair now? We can’t just leave it loose, that wouldn’t be proper at all.”

  I handed her the brush and let her work away at my long tresses, stifling any gasps of pain as she tugged at my scalp.

  “Are you really sucking the strength out of me right now, as we speak?” the woman blurted out. Her hands paused on my hair, and I could imagine the look of horror that might have crossed her face at the slip.

  “I am, but not intentionally. I can’t do anything to stop it. This was why I’m to sleep in this tower room, rather than in the main living quarters.”

  I turned to look at the woman, and she flinched.

  “I am not evil—what was your name?”

  “Jallera, your ladyship. I’m probably not meant to call you that, am I?” she muttered. “Are you a majesty, or a highness?”

  “Ladyship is just fine. I swear to you, Jallera, I mean no harm to anyone. As long as I am careful, no one will suffer as a result of my power. Except perhaps the spiders and flies that find their way into my room.”

  Jallera did not seem amused, and her fingers in my hair picked up their pace, as if she could not wait to flee my presence.

  After my hair was tamed to her satisfaction, Jallera rubbed and dusted my face with all sorts of strange-smelling pastes and powders. Then she gathered her box of supplies and fled with a half-curtsey.

  “I’ll win your loyalty yet,” I muttered to the closed door once I was alone.

  I had no suitable shoes for the palace, so I crossed the cold tiles barefoot to stand before my mirror.

  If I had been unfamiliar with the girl in the mirror before, now she was truly a stranger. My hair, which had always hung loose or at most braided down my back, was now pinned up behind my head in an elegant clump studded with jeweled pins. My face looked older with the rouge and kohl emphasizing my features, and the dress hugged my figure in an elegant, flattering way that instantly camouflaged me among the ladies of the court. The laces had molded the dress to my figure, and there was no evidence that it had been designed for a more generously endowed woman.

  I ran a finger over the gold-trimmed bodice and then smiled fiercely at the young woman in the mirror.

  The face looking back at me was not mine. I would wear this finery like a mask, and it would shield me against the fear and hatred that Jallera had given me a taste of. This elegant creature could take any insult with grace.

  7

  Rivals at Court

  “Y ou truly look like a princess.” Mother gave me a warm smile as I joined her and the king in the sitting-room of our Cheltish wing. I still could not reconcile myself with the fact that this man was my father.

  “You look beautiful as well,” I said. And she did. The regal bearing Mother had previously shown in demeanor only was now emphasized by the rich red gown she wore and the delicate crown nestled in her black hair.

  “I shall have to send my gowns off to be re-fitted,” she said with an airy laugh. “I did not eat so well as I used to while we were in Ambervale.” She stood and gave me a formal embrace. “Come, let us present you before the court.”

  The king, who had remained silent through this talk of gowns and beauty, gave me a fleeting smile before leading the way down the hall. Lines creased his face around his eyes—our presence worried him, though he must have decided it was too late to turn us away now.

  The halls were silent and empty apart from a few servants who either paused to stare as we passed or scurried off as soon as they noticed us. I quickly spotted the difference between servants working for the Cheltish wing and those employed by the palace as a whole—the main palace servants wore a uniform of black with gold trimmings, while the others I had seen in the Cheltish wing wore no uniform, like Jallera.

  The reason for the empty halls was soon evident. As we descended a grand flight of stairs toward a pair of towering doors that hung open, voices rose before us in a loud murmur.

  When we stopped before the cavernous dining hall, a servant at the door stepped forward smartly and raised his voice to carry over the waiting crowd.

  “I present King Baltheor, Queen Ammeline, and Princess Kalleah.”

  Standing between Mother and the king, I held my head high and let a light smile touch my lips, as though I knew a secret I preferred not to share.

  The murmur in the dining hall died almost immediately, and the benches creaked and groaned as people turned and craned their necks to see us.

  “Thank you for joining us at such short notice.” The king strode down the center of the dining hall, his footsteps echoing softly on the
stone floor. When he reached the front of the room, he rounded the high table and stopped behind it. Mother and I followed him up onto the platform.

  “It is with great pleasure that I present to you my daughter and heir. Princess Kalleah will be taking my throne when I pass on the rule at the end of this year.”

  Though most of the crowd maintained a respectful silence, a few furious whispers shot through the onlookers, and I had more than one glare thrown my way.

  “Know that my daughter has my full support,” the king said. “If you have any concerns to raise, please speak directly with me. We hope you will welcome Princess Kalleah warmly to the court. You have trusted me to uphold your values as king, and I assure you that my daughter will do the same. Any confidence you have placed in me should be extended to my family.”

  I tried to meet as many eyes as I could, though I could feel the weight of the entire room staring at me. I smiled at those who scowled at me and gave a confident nod to those whose brows were furrowed with worry.

  When the king took a seat at the high table, Mother and I followed suit. No longer pinned in place by hundreds of stares, I studied the occupants of the room. I assumed the high table belonged to the family who currently held the throne. The other four tables running the length of the dining hall would be assigned to the remaining four ruling families, each of whom was awaiting their next chance to take the throne.

  To my father’s left sat a man with thick black brows and an arched nose—he must be the step-brother whose son was vying for the throne. Just as I thought it, a young man on his left leaned forward and gave me a dangerous, predatory smile. He was hardly older than I, yet he exuded confidence—arrogance, really—and the circlet perched atop his black hair looked as though it belonged there.

  “Is that Leoth?” I asked Mother under my breath.

  She gave me a sharp nod. “You would do best to keep away from him,” she whispered. “From all accounts, he is a sly, scheming young man who will use any means to get his way.”

  I turned back to Leoth, who was still watching me with amusement.