Lia.
He’d called her Lia. And I hadn’t noticed.
Matthias was Third Step, like Papa had been. Too low-ranked to know the Queen personally.
But only those closet to Princess Aurelia used her family nickname.
A seed of suspicion dropped into my stomach, threatening to sprout tendrils.
Perhaps Matthias did know her.
Like he knew my secrets.
As he whirled around a corner, I turned to face Zola. ‘I just remembered, I have to finish an assignment for Coin. I’ll be done before dinner.’
She tilted her face. ‘The King’s just died. Taxes can wait.’
I snorted. ‘Not according to Coin. I bet he’s in the Treasury, insisting on work as usual, while the rest of the Court panics.’
‘I’m not taking that bet.’ Zola sighed. ‘You work too hard for him.’
‘I want that promotion.’
Zola squeezed my hand. ‘Try and have fun?’
‘Oh, absolutely. I’ll have so much fun, I won’t be able to remember my name.’ I blew Zola a kiss and hurried off towards the Treasury, then cut back towards the direction Matthias had gone until I stopped before an unremarkable wall.
I could be wrong about Matthias. I desperately wanted to be. But something was odd about him today, and I couldn’t ignore it.
No one else knew what Matthias tried to help me with behind closed doors, and I intended to keep it that way. He was sometimes a friend, but mostly a co-conspirator.
But people didn’t know what I was capable of, either, or what I wanted to do to those I hated.
I ran my fingertips down the wall, carefully applying pressure in a sequence until part of it sprung back. I took a deep breath, slid into the gap and, after adjusting to the gloom, started walking.
If my suspicions about Matthias were correct, and he secretly knew the Queen, he wouldn’t use the public halls to go to her.
According to him, the passages went back to the palace’s foundations. While the network was occasionally expanded by a paranoid ruler, the effort mostly went into maintaining the elaborate sprawl, the full extent of which was only known by the ruling monarch, their heir, and the Master of Whispers. No part of the palace was untouched, and the royal wing had several direct escape routes outside.
Matthias had given me some of the basic codes and patterns to start off with. I’d spent months mapping the routes, pretending it was another of Papa’s lessons. He had loved puzzles and ciphers and codes. Every one he’d taught me was a sign of his love. Matthias had said nothing about the royal wing, whose passage sequences worked from different roots, but I’d included it anyway. It was slow, painstaking work, despite everything Papa had taught me, but I’d cracked the sequences.
Most of the passages required an exact pattern to enter and leave, but some of the internal ones only needed the flick of a hidden catch. Each new monarch reset the sequences and patterns, but – as I’d hoped – nothing had changed yet. It was an extraordinary sign of royal trust to know about the passages. When I’d asked Matthias which unfortunate noble he’d wheedled the information from, he’d smiled and changed the subject.
But if the Queen had told him...
What had he told her? Every time we’d discussed Vigrante’s involvement in Papa’s murder, had he been helping me or waiting to use it against me?
My throat tightened with fear. I swallowed, and kept on walking, hoping I’d be right about his most likely route.
I finally reached an exit near the royal wing, counting three hundred heartbeats before I stepped out into the hall. I’d never been so close to the royal wing before, which was guarded night and day.
I peered around the corner, just as Matthias stopped before the guards. He held something out for inspection before they waved him through into the wing.
Spikes of terror exploded from the suspicious seed in my stomach.
Hurried footsteps grew louder from the other end of the hall. The Queen and her mother approached, travel-rumpled and – like the servants – trying to pretend they weren’t hurrying. I caught a flash of brown hair, pale skin, and purple before I bolted back into the passages. I leaned against the wall. Panic twisted under my skin.
After several deep breaths, I followed a route into the royal wing, avoiding the royal family and their guards. The codes and failsafes fell before me, pitifully easy after all my work.
I’d expected the royal wing to be ostentatious. The gilded wallpaper was beautiful, but the design was twenty years old. Everything reeked of old money, long accumulated wealth. I stepped lightly on the carpet. Portraits speckled the wall, not only of the royal family but their in-laws and extended relatives. They watched me as if they knew I didn’t belong.
Around another corner, I faced double doors stamped with the royal seal: the monarch’s public study. I glanced over my shoulder, but I was alone. Still, I could hardly march up and knock. No one entered the royal wing without permission. If I was discovered, the Queen would be justifiably furious.
It was easier to focus on that, instead of Matthias lying to me for years. He’d let me rage and plot and scheme, while all along he worked for the Queen. And if he’d told her I wanted to avenge Papa’s death...
Plotting murder wasn’t a problem – until the Queen discovered it. Then it usually ended in a meeting with an executioner’s axe.
The doors opened. I ducked back around the corner. Matthias stepped into the hall.
Betrayal and fury washed over me in a sweat. My hands tingled. He had lied – to me, my family, perhaps even Papa. He’d never once hinted that he knew the Queen. How long had he been working for her? Years? Had I risked myself, my family, with secrets that could be used against us?
I should control my anger, douse it with rationality and calculation. Instead, I stepped towards Matthias and reached into my skirts. I curled my fingers around the comforting weight of my dagger hilt.
Chapter Three
Lia
I inhaled the scent of spiced tea, then let out a long breath. ‘Who supported Alexandris becoming the Opposition Leader?’ A political problem was always easier to deal with than my family.
Matthias passed me a list of names in code. I’d kept the northern nobles on side for years, but Opposition support was my best weapon against Vigrante. Alexandris’s political career was stable and mediocre – not the makings of a strong leader.
I tapped the list of names. ‘Any proof they’re in Vigrante’s pocket?’
He passed me a sheet of numbers. ‘With the old King’s coin.’
My uncle had been an over-generous ruler. As his health had declined again this year, the Master of Coin started giving me copies of the financial reports. I wouldn’t know how bad the debt was until our first meeting, but I didn’t hold out much hope for the Royal Treasury’s prospects.
Matthias glanced around the study. ‘Needs a change,’ he said.
‘I was considering redecorating in red. The dark green will be depressing in winter. Speaking of green’ – I tried and failed for casualness – ‘what happened to the gentleman with the green velvet waistcoats? I thought it was going well.’
‘The green velvet gentleman decided I was too boring. Or I thought he was. We were too boring for each other,’ Matthias said. ‘This isn’t the time to discuss my love life.’
Taking a moment for him, even three sentences, would hardly bring the country to a standstill. ‘I need a meeting with Alexandris,’ I said, instead of asking, When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me? ‘He has to stick his neck out more.’
‘Easily done.’ Matthias hesitated. ‘And my recommendation for dealing with Vigrante?’
I clenched my jaw. ‘My opinion hasn’t changed.’
‘My concern hasn’t changed, Your Majesty.’
‘My opinion outranks your concern.’ When I’d returned north, Matthias had stayed in Arkaala as my eyes and ears. I’d known he would be eager when I was Queen. But his eagerness often tur
ned into overconfidence. I didn’t enjoy reminding him of his place, but I wouldn’t let him control me as Vigrante had controlled Uncle.
‘I presume the money Uncle promised would have come from taxes?’ I asked.
Matthias nodded.
‘The Court won’t support reforms if I disregard Uncle’s promises.’
Matthias’s nostrils flared. ‘Your uncle unclipped Vigrante’s leash and let him run wild with promises. He didn’t care, once he had his wine, and food, and his entertainment. Your aunt didn’t care, once she had her wine, new clothes, and her entertainment.’
‘Killing Vigrante won’t win me the Court’s favour,’ I said flatly.
I rose and went around the desk towards the bookshelves. Most of these books were usually found in Step libraries, nothing that truly indicated Uncle’s tastes. I trailed my fingers across the spines and paused at a volume of war poetry. The poet had risen to prominence during Great-Grandfather’s reign. My grandfather had later quoted his best-known poems to justify his aggressive rule.
I didn’t enjoy war poetry.
Matthias and I had spent years debating how Vigrante would fight my legislation and turn the Government against me. And since he’d entered politics, there had been deaths. All apparently natural, of course. Nothing led back to him. Nothing could be proven. Vigrante’s hands looked clean.
Killing him wouldn’t help me. I had to secure my own power base first. But I was royalty, born from a noble house. Vigrante had no bloodline to fall back upon, only a political title and a rise to power through allegiances built on Uncle’s coffers. Such allegiances always turned fragile, eventually. I wanted Vigrante gone. If I cut him from the Treasury purse-strings, his own allies could destroy him for me. I just had to survive the fallout.
Surviving a political fallout brought me to another matter. ‘Have you made progress on my Whispers?’
Matthias could juggle being my secretary and temporary Whispers for only so long. He’d kept my position at Court secure up until now, but a proper Whispers would keep me alive.
‘I have someone in mind,’ he said. ‘Xania Bayonn. Lady Harynne’s daughter.’
‘And the late Baron Bayonn’s daughter.’
Most people wouldn’t have interpreted Matthias’s face spasm as old grief, but most hadn’t known him since childhood. Bayonn had practically been a father to Matthias, teaching him the necessary skills to navigate Court and serve my interests. His death had hit Matthias harder than losing his own parents. The guilt of being convinced of Bayonn’s murder, but unable to prove it, made him uncomfortable around the Bayonn family.
But they weren’t influential. Whispers usually came from a high Step; it made it easier to navigate social circles.
‘An unusual choice,’ I said. Xania Bayonn wasn’t just from a lower Step – she was young. But then, so was I. And if she was suitable for Whispers, her social rank aside, then Matthias trusted her. He wouldn’t be reckless about such an important position.
‘She has potential,’ he said. ‘I’ll arrange a meeting.’
‘Very well. You may leave.’
I returned to the desk after he left, but pushed my cup away. The tea now looked like blood. The room felt stifled by the ghosts of my ancestors. The grief swelled inside me again, tinged with spite. As I grew up, Uncle and I had loved each other less and less; yet the throne was mine now, and I would be a better ruler.
Raised voices outside propelled me up and towards the doors. I flung them open and froze.
Chapter Four
Xania
The carpet muffled my footsteps, giving me a few more moments of stealth. ‘How long?’
Matthias whirled. His face tumbled through shock, surprise, guilt, then settled on anger. ‘Xania.’
‘Miss Bayonn.’ He’d lost the privilege of my name. ‘How long have you been working for her?’ What secrets have you told her?
‘It’s not –’
I whipped the dagger up.
He went still.
‘How long?’
He flicked his gaze from the dagger to me. ‘I’ve known her since childhood.’ He hesitated. ‘However you’re imagining I betrayed you, I didn’t.’
Careful phrasing. Typical Matthias.
The doors burst open, and the new Queen stood in the doorway.
Fear rolled in my gut.
‘Drop the dagger.’ This close, layers of powder couldn’t quite hide the grief or exhaustion on her pale skin. But her gaze still pinned me. ‘Drop it now.’
She spoke as if she’d never been disobeyed in her life, which was probably true. Refusing her meant courting death.
I let the dagger slip from my fingers.
Matthias nudged it towards the Queen with his boot. She scooped it up and held it at her side.
‘Your Majesty,’ he said through gritted teeth, ‘may I present Miss Xania Bayonn, daughter of the late Baron Bayonn and Lady Harynne.’
‘If this is a joke,’ the Queen told him, ‘it’s in poor taste.’
‘It isn’t. I don’t appreciate having the business end of daggers pointed at me.’
My legs tensed, though running was futile. The Queen knew my name now.
She narrowed her eyes. ‘How did you convince the guards to let you through?’ She looked between Matthias and me, then at the walls. So she had told him about the passages – and he shouldn’t have told me.
Matthias grimaced.
At the sound of an approaching patrol, the Queen gestured at him and stepped back into the room. He pulled me inside before I could protest. The Queen shut the doors. The guards’ footsteps faded around a corner.
‘Release her,’ the Queen said, and nodded towards the chairs at her desk.
I sat, keeping my head down. Mama had drilled etiquette into me for years as my most effective shield.
The Queen placed my dagger on the windowsill behind her. I waited for her to speak first. Only the ticking clock broke the silence, until Matthias took an incensed breath through his nose.
‘I’m aware this isn’t the meeting you intended, but here we are,’ the Queen snapped. ‘So instead of acting like a spoiled child, Baron Farhallow, I suggest you salvage it.’
Meeting?
I looked up. ‘I... I beg your pardon, Your Majesty...’
‘It’s a bit late for politeness now.’
Matthias snorted.
‘Would you prefer I leave you both alone with the dagger?’
‘No, Your Majesty,’ he said. ‘I would not.’
‘Good. Start explaining.’
‘May I rise?’
She flicked her fingers. Matthias surged to his feet and paced. He finally took a deep breath and locked his hands behind his back. ‘Your Majesty, this is Miss Xania Bayonn, daughter of Baron Bayonn and Lady Harynne, step-daughter of Lord Martain of Kierth.’
It felt ludicrous, but I stood to curtsey. At least my skirts hid my shaking knees.
‘Her father died four years ago,’ Matthias said. ‘Her mother remarried a year and a half later. We believe her father didn’t die of natural illness.’
‘I know we need proof.’ I flinched at my loud tone, but added, ‘I’ve been trying to find it for years.’
The Queen broke a Farezi sugar biscuit in half and studied it with more care than it deserved. ‘You’re Fifth Step, Third Step-born, with limited prospects. You don’t have the social mobility nor means for revenge.’
‘Blackmail isn’t always secrets and gossip,’ I said. ‘I know the Sixth and Seventh Step families who’ve been living beyond their means for years –’
‘Unsurprising.’
‘– but don’t have the credit trail they should. I know whose dowries are comprised of loans. I know who ruined their spouses’ fortunes. Money talks, even when people try to hide it.’
‘You work in the Treasury.’
‘And I know exactly how empty it is.’
The Queen stiffened. ‘That is classified information known only to the Master of
Coin.’
‘Don’t worry, he’s trustworthy,’ I said. ‘But I’m good at numbers. And figuring things out.’
‘Apparently.’ Her face hardened. ‘While Matthias may have granted you access to the passages’ – he squirmed – ‘he wouldn’t dare give you the codes to the royal wing. And the guards would never let you through without my permission. Yet here you are.’
‘It took a long time to break the codes,’ I said. ‘If it helps.’
‘Not really.’ The Queen dropped the biscuit pieces onto the plate. ‘This is your choice for my Whispers?’ she asked Matthias. ‘A woman driven by vengeance who goes where she pleases?’
My stomach dropped.
Whispers?
I was nearly eighteen, only a year younger than the Queen; if I’d been born into a higher Step, I might have been one of her ladies. But her Whispers?
‘I– I– no.’ I surged to my feet.
The Queen lunged forward and slapped her hands over my wrists. Her grip was surprisingly strong. It didn’t matter that I knew Matthias, or we both thought Papa had been murdered, or that Matthias had kept his connection to the Queen from me. If I didn’t do what the Queen wished, there would be no mercy for me.
If I was in her position, wielding her power, I’d do the same.
I sat back down, her hands still on my wrists. ‘I can’t be your Whispers.’
‘Who do you believe murdered your father?’
If I said his name, I couldn’t take it back. But Papa deserved justice, and this was only way I could do it. ‘Lord Vigrante.’
My gut twisted even at the sound of his name. In public, he was always polite, respectful. Everything about him indicated an unflappable, upstanding man. He’d probably already tried to insert himself into the Queen’s confidence.
Queen of Coin and Whispers Page 2