“I think you are making a grave mistake,” Mother said. “But I will not dissuade you. Just do not be surprised if you return to find us both dead.”
12
The King’s Departure
T he whole palace turned out the next morning to farewell the king. We all dressed in our finest and filled the palace steps, putting ourselves on display before the town as we waved him off. Even a handful of servants joined us, swelling our numbers with their tidy uniforms standing out among the gowns and suits of the nobility.
A royal carriage sat at the foot of the palace steps, four footmen and a driver already in place, and the king took time to clasp hands with many of the palace residents and wave to the watching crowd as he made his way to the carriage.
Mother had debated between putting me on display so the city could see I was fully endorsed by the popular king and allowing me to blend into the crowd so as not to ruin the atmosphere of the event; in the end she decided on subtlety, so I stood several rows back, near Olleack and his family. The king had said his farewells to his family in private; Mother’s eyes had been damp, but I was unmoved. My father was still a stranger to me, and his departure was more significant for the way it would endanger us than for his absence.
It was refreshing to leave the palace, even if only to be stared at. As the crowd swelled around the steps and the royal musicians played a fanfare, I soaked in the bright colors and raucous voices and earthy smells of the city, glad that no one was fleeing at the sight of me for once. The palace did not have so much as a courtyard, unless there was one in a different family’s wing, and I had missed the fresh air and the feel of the late summer sun warming my black hair. After eighteen years spent running barefoot through fields and delighting in chill air that whisked down from the glaciers high above, life at Baylore Palace was claustrophobic. I had not realized until that moment just how much it suffocated me.
Far too soon, the carriage doors slammed shut, and the crowd below parted as the king rode away. The palace gates swung shut at his departure, and I was wrenched from my daze as those around me began flooding back up the steps into the palace. A few people I did not recognize flinched when they saw me and immediately pushed through the crowd to get away from me; Olleack, his wife Nashella, and Leoth simply jostled me forward, paying those around them no heed. I realized I preferred Leoth’s scorn to outright fear.
Just inside the grand entrance, Mother slipped a hand through my elbow, startling me. She had been at the front of the crowd, and I had not noticed her approach.
“Straight back to our quarters now.” Her voice was almost lost in the hubbub.
I followed her without protest, though every muscle was screaming at me to turn and slip back out the gates, to run through the streets of Baylore and out to the countryside until I burned off the restless energy I had drawn from the crowd.
Our Cheltish wing guards had been absent, swept along in the crowd, but they took up their places at the entrance to our corridor just before we passed.
“Double the guard,” Mother said. “Hire new guards if you must. We need as much security as we can pull together.”
“As you command, Your Majesty.” The senior guard bowed to us both.
Safely shut in the royal chambers, the door locked behind us, Mother sank into the chair at her writing desk and covered her face with one hand. “This is a disaster. I spent half the night trying to persuade your father to stay, to send an emissary in his stead, but he is more concerned for the future of Itrea than for our family. And he is right, of course, though it is no comfort to us. If we lose Larkhaven, we lose our only port, and our only means of trading with the Kinship Thrones. We would be left destitute.”
“If we disappeared, would it help?” I asked. I wanted what was best for Itrea, even if it meant giving up the throne I had waited my whole life for. Now that I had seen what ruling this city would mean, I no longer wanted it.
“Not at all. You and Leoth are the two worst choices for Baylore’s stability, and if I were an impartial judge I would still pick you, simply because you are motivated by more than greed. Your reign would remind people why magic ought to be feared, and would strengthen those who speak up against all magic races. But Leoth and Olleack are pushing to force the magic races out of Baylore altogether. Leoth’s reign would create to a rift that would take more than a simple treaty to repair. Either way, the balance between those with magic and those without is eroding. People are forgetting that every one of them has a trace of Makhori blood in their ancestry, that they were once treated by their fellows in the Kinship Thrones much as they treat you now.”
“The king should have named you as his heir,” I said. “You would have been a much safer choice.”
Mother laughed sadly. “No—remember, it was I who betrayed your father, at least in the eyes of our people. They believe I was the one who introduced the taint of forbidden magic to the esteemed Reycoran line. I would never be welcomed as queen.”
I slumped into a chair in the corner. “What can we do, then?”
“You can rule fairly, and show your people that a deadly power does not make the bearer evil. It will be a hard road ahead, but we all knew that, and I have faith that you will rise to the challenge.” Mother sighed. “And in the meantime, we need to keep you alive until your father returns. I want four guards with you any time you leave the Cheltish wing, and you must tell me where you are going if you ever plan to be away for more than an hour.”
“What if one of our own relatives attacks me?” I asked. “Leoth and his parents seem content to wait until the palace election, but what about the others? There are more than thirty people living in our wing whom I don’t know and might not recognize in a crowd. They have been avoiding me, and could very well be plotting behind my back.”
“I think it highly unlikely that you would be attacked from within,” Mother said. “If any suspicion was raised against the Reycoran family, Leoth’s position would be compromised. No one wants a king who would resort to petty murder to secure the throne, however popular he is. Regardless, we will station a guard at the foot of your tower stairs, and he can accompany you within our wing if you wish.”
“And should I keep trying to find allies in court?”
“Do as you see fit,” Mother said. “But at the first sign of danger, I want you to return home. We can resume our search for supporters once your father returns.”
I loosened a pin that was digging into my scalp, my mind spinning. “How long will he be away?”
“With any luck, no more than two spans.”
I stared at her. “But it will nearly be winter when he returns. We won’t have any more time to prepare for the palace vote.”
“Not much, it’s true. Your father officially announced a date for the palace vote: five days after Midwinter. The changing of the monarchs happens just after the end of Dead-span, so if you lose the palace vote, you would only have fifteen days to campaign in Baylore.” Mother gave me a sad smile. “You must not lose the palace vote. Getting ten percent of the palace vote is much easier than winning a majority in the city. I cannot see you taking the throne if it came to a city vote.”
“That’s later than the king and Olleack first mentioned,” I said.
“It is a deliberate ploy to gain you more time to prepare for the palace vote, and Leoth less time to gain support if the city vote takes place. If we do come to a city vote, we will take care to damage Leoth’s reputation as much as possible in those fifteen days, and present several worthy alternative candidates who will hopefully divide the vote further.”
I laughed. “You’ve planned it well. But what could we say against Leoth, except that he has a wretched personality?”
“Unfounded rumors have more power than you might expect,” Mother said lightly. “And we can both take advantage of these next two spans to see if we can dig up anything more damaging.”
* * *
I visited the library just before dinner and collec
ted a stack of books on the history of Baylore and the Kinship Thrones. In the absence of anything else to occupy my time, I wanted to learn more about these Truthbringers that Cal had mentioned. I wanted to ask Mother, but I didn’t want to risk her telling Ellarie that I had sought out the company of her son in secret.
Back in my room, I sprawled on the window seat and began reading, skimming at first but quickly getting pulled into the histories. I had piled the window seat with comfortable pillows, and with the late afternoon sunlight spilling in from outside and the Icebraid Peaks sparkling in the far distance across the plains, my tower had transformed to a welcoming haven.
By the time Jallera came to summon me to dinner, I had learned about the first settlement at Larkhaven and the Whitish army that had pursued the settlers through the Wandering Woods, never to be seen again. Mother had taught me a great deal about the royal history of Baylore, from the original founder to the emergence of the five royal lines, but she had known little about our country’s history outside of that. Or perhaps she had not thought it important enough to warrant teaching me.
“That’s a lot of books, Your Ladyship,” Jallera said when she let herself into my room. Even after growing more accustomed to my presence, she still had a twitchy demeanor, as though she expected me to turn on her at any moment. “Have you learned anything useful?”
“Useful, no,” I said wryly. There had been no mention of Truthbringers in the book I had begun reading, and I had gotten so wrapped up in the descriptions of great battles and fleeing civilians that I had forgotten what I was looking for in the first place.
“Did you want to change into something less formal for dinner, Your Ladyship?”
“Yes, please.” I would have shed the dress I had worn for the king’s departure long ago, if not for the row of tiny buttons running down the back in an impossible-to-reach place.
Jallera helped me undo the buttons and remove one of the three underskirts before turning to open my wardrobe with the dress under one arm.
Then she screamed.
At first I couldn’t see what had scared her. I leapt to my feet as Jallera dropped the dress she had been holding in her attempt to scramble away from the wardrobe.
Then I saw the man unfolding himself from within. He wore a uniform very similar to what our family’s guards wore, except a few details were off, and his face was masked. In his hand he held a dagger that glinted in the afternoon sunlight streaming into my bedchamber.
Jallera’s scream resonated around the tower. Then she tripped over my bed, voice faltering as she fell backward onto the mattress.
I froze, searching the room wildly for something I could use as a weapon. My eyes alit on one of the heavier books, and I snatched it up and hurled it at the man’s head.
The corner of the book glanced off his temple, throwing him momentarily off balance.
“Idiot girl,” he growled. Lunging forward, he plunged the dagger into Jallera’s breast.
Her scream died in a gasp. Chest heaving, she struggled to draw breath.
The assassin advanced on me, and I hurled another book at him. This one collided with his chest, but it didn’t even slow him.
I threw myself over my bed, avoiding Jallera’s shuddering form, and scrambled toward the door.
The assassin was too fast. He sprinted back around the bed and planted himself before the door, cutting off my escape route.
I recoiled.
Then, before either of us could make another move, footsteps pounded up the stairs. A second later, the door flew open.
The assassin lunged for me, but I ducked and threw myself at his knees, destabilizing him.
Four guards burst through the door, one with a crossbow aimed at the assassin, the other three with swords drawn.
“You’re too late,” the assassin said, slamming a foot onto my stomach to pin me in place.
As he dropped to his knees to finish me off, the guard with the crossbow put a bolt through his right shoulder.
The shot was not enough to down the assassin, but he did drop his dagger with a grunt. The flat side of the blade bounced off my knee, and I shoved it across the floor so it was out of his reach.
Within seconds, the guards were upon him, wrestling his arms behind him and patting his uniform for any additional weapons.
“Jallera,” I said, dazed. “We need to get her to the surgeon.” It was very lucky Jallera had screamed, because making noise was the last thing that had occurred to me in the chaos.
“My apologies, Your Majesty, but she appears to be dead already,” one of the younger guards said bluntly.
The news hit me like a fist in the stomach. I stood, legs shaking, and saw that he was right. Jallera had stopped fighting to breathe; she lay immobile, one hand below her breast, where she had tried to staunch the flow of blood from her lungs.
“No,” I breathed. “She can’t be dead.”
More footsteps were echoing up the spiral staircase now, amplified with the door still hanging open, and within moments Mother burst into the room, Lyla close behind.
“What is this?” Mother asked frantically, looking from the assassin to me. When she noticed Jallera’s still form, she flinched. “I heard screaming—”
“We have stopped an assassination attempt,” said one of the guards. “If you will pardon us, Your Majesty, we should remove this dangerous man from the princess’s chambers.”
“Of course,” Mother said faintly. She moved aside as two of the guards forced the assassin down the stairs, a third guard following with his sword still unsheathed.
Mother pulled me into an embrace, but I stood woodenly, too shocked to take comfort in her presence. I had hardly known Jallera, yet the sight of her broken form had shaken me to the core.
“We must search the wing to make sure no one else has slipped in,” Mother said, her voice resuming its usual brisk tone as she released me. “Gather everyone in the upstairs lounge until we know our home is safe. If one assassin has made it past our defenses, more could have done the same.”
I followed her down the stairs without complaint, while the remaining guard wrapped Jallera’s body in the bloodied bedsheets and lifted her small form.
The news must have traveled quickly, for a small crowd had already gathered in the hallway leading to my tower. There were titters as the guards marched the assassin through, his mask tugged askew to reveal heavy eyebrows and a mouth set in a grim line, and gasps as the fourth guard emerged with the body wrapped in sheets.
“Our guards have just stopped an assassination attempt on Princess Kalleah,” Mother said as we reached the common area. “Summon everyone here, so we can search the Cheltish wing for any other intruders. It would have been easy for an assassin to slip into the palace during the chaos earlier; I doubt anyone apart from our family would have recognized the discrepancies in his uniform.”
The voices around us grew louder still at this news. Leoth, Olleack, and Nashella were among the last to arrive, which struck me as suspicious.
Leoth’s words came back to me—“I’m sure there are plenty of others waiting for the opportune time to strike.” He looked unduly satisfied at the news; it would not surprise me if he had some hand in this.
Mother waited for the noise to subside before saying, “I hope this was not orchestrated by one of my own family.” She met the eyes of several noblemen and women in particular as she said this, her expression grim. “We will question the assassin, and if he lets slip that any of you were involved, King Baltheor will have your head.”
“Be sensible, Ammeline,” Olleack said with a frown. “Everyone in this family is united in support of both King Baltheor and his rightful heir, Leoth. If any of us were indicted in an assassination attempt, the entire Reycoran family would lose favor at court. We might be voted out altogether at the city election. I am confident that Leoth will win the palace vote, so there is no need for us or any of our supporters to organize such a haphazard ploy to remove Kalleah from court.”
“I hope everyone present agrees with Olleack,” Mother said, again scanning the faces in the crowd. “Surely no one wants our family to go the way of the Dellgrain line.”
Confused expressions on most of the onlookers’ faces told me they did not know the story of how the Dellgrains wormed their way into the palace, though a few grimaced at her words.
“We must show that our family is standing together in these challenging times.”
As Mother spoke, I tried to memorize the appearances of my distant cousins and great-aunts and nieces and nephews—it would be good to recognize my reluctant allies in a crowd. None bore more than a passing resemblance to my immediate family, as we shared no common blood; I wondered if some of the commonalities were due to historic intermarriage with Mother’s Aldsvell line. I had memorized our family tree well enough to know they were mostly related through my great-aunts and great-uncles on my father’s side; his own father had been one of eight siblings. There were six others around my age, not counting Leoth, and I recognized one of the girls from that wretched dance lesson. There were three nursemaids with infants, and two of the young courtiers appeared to be married. I even recognized two middle-aged women with the distinctive silver hair of Weavers.
“Do you think the rest of us are in danger?” asked an elderly man with a wobbling voice.
“I hope not,” Mother said, “though that depends on the motive of the assassin or whoever sent him. If he wishes Leoth to take the throne, only my daughter is in danger. However, if he seeks to destabilize our entire line, we are all at risk. Were there attacks on our family before we arrived?”
“None, Your Majesty,” said a young woman whose stomach was swollen with child. “You will remember the years before Kalleah’s birth better than I, but ever since you left eighteen years ago, there have been no attacks within the palace.”
Forbidden Queen: A Court Intrigue Fantasy (The Forbidden Queen Series Book 1) Page 9