I didn’t glance towards the passages. Matthias was probably already gone to retrieve the letters. I wanted to feel victorious, but instead I only felt tired.
‘On behalf of Her Majesty, thank you for your co-operation, Lord Naruum.’ I hesitated, ready to turn and leave the room. But there was little else to say: I couldn’t promise him salvation or safety. Now that he’d admitted the truth, he would die.
‘Will there be mercy?’ Naruum asked. There was no hope in his voice, but if he hadn’t asked, he might have tortured himself to his final moments that there could have been another outcome.
‘Only the Queen can give you mercy now,’ I said. ‘And she has little to spare.’
The guards closed the doors on his cries for forgiveness. I headed towards the royal wing, where Lia waited for me.
Chapter Fifteen
Lia
The row of letters sat neatly on my desk, arranged by date: Brenna’s sloped, elegant words coaxing Naruum to offer me the wine.
She’d suggested he sneak into the Opposition gathering – an ideal opportunity, since there would already be tension between the politicians and myself.
The Master of Ceremonies decided on my set of glasses right before an event. He assigned my servers carefully, who knew they would die if my food or wine was tainted after a poison-taster had sampled it. They didn’t let their trays out of sight. There was no easy way to poison the glasses, so Brenna had surely known Naruum wouldn’t succeed.
‘There’s no hope of mercy.’ It was a statement, not a question, as if Xania knew it was futile, but had to say it anyway.
Whatever Naruum had wanted to believe about the wine, no courtier was oblivious to the consequences of trying to harm me.
‘No,’ I said.
Brenna had grown up with Naruum. She knew he was gentle, idealistic, and in love with her. She surely knew that he’d keep any letters from her instead of burning them. If Xania had suspected that Naruum would break under his family’s betrayal, Brenna had already known.
Someone knocked on the doors. Matthias went to answer. After a few moments, he returned with a sealed letter. ‘A servant delivered this from Lord Hazell. You were to receive it immediately.’
I broke the wax and a smaller note, with Lady Brenna’s seal, fell into my palm.
I skimmed the first few lines of Hazell’s note. My hands went numb. I was suddenly on my feet.
‘Lady Brenna is dead,’ I said. ‘Lord Hazell found her. My presence has been requested.’
Matthias grabbed my arm. I had somehow moved halfway across the room without realising it. ‘Why would he summon you?’ he demanded. ‘Why not alert the palace guard? Why not Vigrante–’ His eyes widened.
‘Not if he suspects Vigrante is behind her death,’ Xania said.
I stared at Matthias’s hand on my arm until he released me, then folded up Hazell’s letter and handed it to Xania. ‘This can’t be on my person.’ When Matthias opened his mouth, I added, ‘Nor yours.’ Xania was only known as the newest of my ladies. No one would assume she kept dangerous letters for me.
She considered me for a moment, then nodded and tucked the letter up her sleeve. I kept Brenna’s one in my palm.
‘Naruum,’ Xania blurted out. Horror bloomed on her face.
She was right to be afraid. It couldn’t be a coincidence that this had happened on the night Naruum had finally confessed.
‘Matthias and I will go to Hazell,’ I said. ‘Xania, go to Naruum. Hurry.’
She rushed into the passages. Matthias and I walked towards Brenna’s rooms, our pace steady to avoid undue curiosity. I broke the seal and unfolded her note:
Your Majesty, I apologise for my misdeeds.
I am the reason Naruum offered you the wine. I cajoled him into a gamble that could only fail. He did it for a love I do not deserve.
I swore this would not be my confession, but what else can it be, now?
Vigrante’s favours always come with a price. Mine was distancing myself from my family and breaking my engagement. But while the distance from my family proved invigorating, I soon regretted abandoning Naruum.
Eventually, I asked Vigrante to let me regain Naruum’s affections.
Vigrante does not compromise well, but I realised that too late.
He did not lie, so much as allow me to believe things that would never happen. I convinced myself that Naruum would succeed and poison you, though I assured him it would merely indispose you as he otherwise wouldn’t attempt it. Then we could reforge our engagement, and our feelings for each other would remain unchanged. Vigrante let me believe, even as I encouraged Naruum, who believed my lies in turn.
When you arrested him, I kept silent, but my rage grew towards Vigrante. I knew Naruum would eventually confess: he is not strong. I would no longer be useful to Vigrante, and he is cruel when someone has outlived their usefulness. I will be dead, but if Naruum dies, it wasn’t by my hand. I am already the cause of his death; I still love him enough that I won’t be the instrument of it.
We know the depths of Vigrante’s cruelty; better I choose my own fate and prevent his attention from turning to my family.
I am the reason Naruum offered you the wine, but Vigrante is behind it all. I wish for Naruum to be pardoned of a traitor’s death, and for my family to remain unaware of Vigrante’s involvement.They will mourn me, but I want Vigrante to get the punishment from you that he deserves.
I apologise for my misdeeds, but know better than to beg forgiveness. Even the Queen’s mercy has limits.
Brenna
When we turned onto the hall leading to Brenna’s apartment, our footsteps broke the silence. We’d met a pair of patrolling guards several halls back, but limited them to polite nods and a soft greeting. I didn’t want to alert anyone until I knew what I was dealing with.
It no longer seemed a sensible decision.
Matthias and I stopped before Brenna’s doors. Her words spun in my mind, presenting a more fragile, vicious side to her alliance with Vigrante.
As Brenna rose in power, she’d taken her own rooms, despite unmarried children remaining close or attached to their family suites. Now it no longer seemed an assertion of growing status, but Vigrante gently separating her from familial influence. My stomach, already uneasy, rolled harder.
I opened the doors.
Hazell froze, mid-pace, and attempted a shaky bow. ‘Your Majesty.’
He was tall, slender apart from his wide shoulders. His dark hair was twisted in long, unfashionable curls, but he’d always been more concerned with what suited him than Court fashion.
‘Lord Hazell,’ I said.
‘Your Majesty, thank you for coming so swiftly.’ His gaze flickered between Matthias and me.
‘Where is she?’ I asked.
He glanced over his shoulder, and I strode by him.
It must have been poison. Brenna lay as if asleep. Her pale brown hair gleamed, but a cold finality clung to her, wrapped in unnatural stillness. There was nothing peaceful in the silent room.
Something constricted my chest. More death, all of it foolish; pettiness wrapped in power-plays. I had to remember Brenna knew precisely what she’d encouraged Naruum to do. She didn’t deserve pity – and yet, the sight of her clung to my skin, a horror that couldn’t be scoured away.
I walked back out. ‘What happened?’
Hazell looked shocked at my sharp tone, then ashamed. ‘I don’t know. I didn’t know anything... until this arrived.’ He held out a note, as small as the one hidden up my sleeve. Brenna had ordered him to come here, and then to summon me.
‘Would she have sent anyone else such a note?’ I asked him.
‘Me.’
We all whirled.
Vigrante stood in the doorway. For once, he wasn’t neat nor impeccably dressed. His wrinkled shirt and trousers had been hastily thrown on, a waistcoat or necktie nowhere in sight. His hair was sleep-tangled. His expression worried me: no hint of his polished smile, and his eyes
were smudged in shadow.
‘She’s dead,’ he said flatly.
I gestured at the bedroom and followed him inside.
Vigrante took a ragged breath at the sight of her. ‘Shall we be frank, Your Majesty?’
You have no idea what that word truly means. ‘I’ve only ever wanted frankness between us, Lord Vigrante.’
His distress could be part of an elaborate ploy. He could be upset, reeling, and still have orchestrated Brenna’s death. Vigrante wore emotions, true and false, like layers of clothing: easily put on and easily discarded.
His expression returned to calmness, but his eyes betrayed his exhaustion. This was the real Vigrante, brittle and furious when his plans careened out of control.
‘You took all her choices away,’ I said.
His pretence at calmness shattered into disbelief. ‘You think I’d toss allies aside so frivolously?’
‘The Riavaan boy in the canal.’
Anyone else would have looked chagrined or resigned. Instead, he met my gaze and shrugged. ‘Accidents happen. Such a loss.’
‘I’ve heard interesting things about the man who fled the scene.’
Vigrante didn’t speak.
‘Perhaps frankness isn’t to your taste,’ I said. ‘There’s also an interesting connection between Lady Brenna and Lord Naruum.’
‘I warned her about him.’
Everyone knew how Vigrante treated his allies when they disappointed him or their usefulness ran out. Ruined reputations were the least of their worries; several had succumbed to sudden illnesses. With the rift Vigrante had orchestrated between Brenna and her family, and Naruum confessing to her conspiracy, no wonder Brenna had concluded this was the last choice left to her.
Despite her death, Vigrante still underestimated her. Her notes to him and Hazell were likely different. Hazell had looked terrified at Vigrante’s appearance, and had followed Brenna’s instructions and sent for me. Vigrante would resolve this the moment he and Hazell were alone, but if he didn’t know that Brenna had written to me, I could still use it to my advantage.
‘It would be unfortunate,’ I said, ‘if the consequences of Brenna and Naruum’s connection were discovered. And her allegiance to you is already well-known. How terrible if her death reflected upon you, Lord Vigrante.’
He narrowed his eyes. ‘I’m listening, Your Majesty.’
A better Queen would have revealed Brenna’s confession to the Court and let the pandemonium run its course. But she was dead: it no longer mattered if her confession was true, or one last deception. It was a weapon Vigrante didn’t know I had, and I would guard it with the care and respect it deserved until I could use it.
‘If the Court learns that Brenna and Naruum concocted the wine scheme together, suspicion would publicly deflect from you.’ Vigrante wasn’t naive enough to think the Court wouldn’t gossip behind closed doors. ‘They would know some of the truth, and your reputation would be mostly salvaged.’
‘And if I disagree?’
‘Your reputation would not be salvaged.’ Vigrante had discarded Brenna, his supposed ally, as cruelly as the merchant boy, but I’d orchestrate Brenna’s revenge through my own vengeance.
‘And what are your terms for my salvaged reputation?’
‘You will pay the Riavaan family a death price for their son,’ I said, ‘and express your deepest condolences for their loss.’ It was the closest Vigrante would come to admitting his part in the death.
His nostrils flared.
‘If you do not,’ I added, ‘consider the depths of your unsalvageable reputation.’ I’m not my uncle, Lord Vigrante. My displeasure runs long and deep.
Vigrante’s face tightened. Then he raised his chin. ‘As you wish, Your Majesty.’
It was a pitiful victory, but it was mine. And humiliation was still a punishment to Vigrante, who traded on intimidation and secrets. Xania, Matthias, and I could build on this.
‘And it would be in our mutual interests to work together on further legislation, Lord Vigrante, would it not?’
He took longer to answer this time, as if he could see the trap I’d set around him, helped by Brenna’s desperate final act.
‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ he finally said, ‘I believe it would.’
Chapter Sixteen
Xania
The guard was not only a traitor to the Crown for killing Naruum, but he’d tried to be clever. The Palace Guard had stationed themselves at the most obvious exit from the castle, the least obvious, and three others of varying importance. The traitor had bolted towards the least obvious exit, then doubled back towards one of the lesser three, and finally sprinted to the most obvious. He’d rushed right into the waiting arms of his fellow soldiers.
I stood by Naruum’s bed, and tried to breathe through my mouth. The scent of blood lingered. The guards had covered him with a heavy blanket.
The Commander of the Palace Guard had looked furious when I’d hurried towards Naruum’s room, then resigned when I’d held up the spider’s mark.
I’d injected my voice with every possible ounce of authority and confidence. ‘I’m here on the Whispers’s orders. I’m to see the body.’
After informing me of the situation, the Commander had gone to supervise the traitor being taken to the dungeons. I remained with the two guards who’d discovered Naruum when they’d entered to remove the food tray. They’d given him some dignity in his death with the blanket, then waited outside for the Commander to return.
I glanced up as the Commander returned. ‘The guard is imprisoned and chained,’ she said. ‘Everything is ready for Whispers.’
I stood. ‘I will inform him.’ The Commander would have to report to Lia, which gave me time to see the guard. I was slowly building a team of agents to work with the guards, and while I wanted information without using physical torture, I’d recruited Kartek and Curjan as exceptions of last resort. They would join me.
This once, for this guard, I wanted to break him through violence, as if it could bring Naruum back.
I rubbed my eyes hard enough for spots to appear. The guard had been easy to crack; I was convinced he’d agreed to Vigrante’s bargain on impulse. He’d coughed up names that Curjan was now tracking down. They were hopefully real people linked to Vigrante, but he’d have kept his hands publicly clean, as always.
As I was sending a message to Matthias, informing him of Naruum’s death, one arrived from him: Her Majesty has been detained. She will summon you when ready. Try and get some sleep. Relief, sadness, and disappointment twisted in my stomach. But I told Kartek and Curjan to alert me to any new developments and left, detouring to my office to pick up dispatches before retreating to my rooms.
I took deep breaths until my shoulders relaxed. Then I went to my desk, unfolded two dispatches from Farezi and Othayria that I’d put aside to handle Naruum’s escalating situation –
I shoved the thought away and focused on the letters. The Farezi dispatch – a decoded letter, accompanied by a theatre booklet – was mostly about Farezi’s harvest hopes and price speculation.
The theatre booklet held more sensitive information; tiny dots pricked above certain letters. I went back and forth through the sentences with different codes until I had it all. The agent had discovered Rassa’s true date of departure for Edar, two weeks earlier than originally planned; the high-ranked members of the retinue; and potential diplomatic replacements. Nothing certain about any spies in the mix.
The letter from Othayria was shorter, less detailed. That agent was still finding her feet. Most of it concerned Prince Aubrey, another of Lia’s future suitors. I wanted to know everything: his likes and dislikes, strengths and weaknesses.
Decoding helped for a while, but Naruum and Brenna kept intruding. While I sat, blanketed in soothing quietness, Lia faced their grieving families. I kept wondering if I should be there with her, but it was no place for me. I’d sought information on them, desired their secrets, threatened Naruum. I was never meant to face
the consequences of my duty beside Lia, only wrestle with – and resent – my conscience.
It was easier to be Whispers when decoding correspondence and creating new codes, building up knowledge to use later. When everything was set in motion, it all turned murkier, more distasteful.
No matter. It would help me take down Vigrante. This was the price I had to pay. Naruum had perished because he’d allowed himself to believe things that could never be real. I wouldn’t make the same mistake.
A brisk knock from the wall almost made me drop my pen. I froze. It was Lia’s signal.
Why would she come here?
Another knock: I stood and went to the wall. I flicked the catch to open the panel, then backed away. My heart pounded.
Lia stepped into my room. ‘Apologies. This seemed the safest way.’ Her face was haggard pale. But the candlelight gleamed against her hair, and her back was still straight, her mouth –
I looked away. Of all times to be distracted, this was not only ridiculous, but shameful, even if I wanted to cling to anything good right now.
‘Your Majesty,’ I said, ‘would you like to sit?’
My family’s apartment was technically hers: the monarch owned the palace, and the majority of the Court rented their rooms from the Crown – I’d once looked up the long, elaborate contract to settle a bet between Terize and myself – but Lia responded as if visiting a noble’s estate. We spoke in whispers. My family had retired hours earlier, but if they suddenly woke, heard voices from my room, and discovered the Queen –
They couldn’t order her out… but you could never tell with Mama.
Lia slid a folded square of paper from her sleeve. Our fingers brushed as I took it, but her expression betrayed nothing. I gently smoothed the paper and frowned at the first line.
When I reached the signature at the end, I had no words in me at all.
‘Every time I feel a shred of goodwill towards Vigrante,’ Lia said, ‘something like this happens, and I remember precisely how much I want him dead.’
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