How trapped Brenna must have felt by her family’s decisions for her, all paths cut off so the only choice left was Vigrante, until she couldn’t ignore the shadows around him anymore.
‘Such a waste,’ I said.
Lia pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘She likely used a poison that failed her heart. Something that could be explained away.’
‘What did you tell her family?’
‘Enough of the truth: Naruum’s confession, and how Brenna’s matched his.’ Her mouth twisted. ‘At least Naruum’s family know his murderer has been captured, even if I implied Brenna bribed the guard.’
Naruum’s face flashed in my mind. He had bled from his ears, and eyes, nose and mouth. He’d choked on the blood.
I swallowed. ‘So you’re obeying Brenna and keeping quiet about Vigrante’s involvement?’
‘The Court will speculate anyway,’ Lia said. ‘I’ll keep quiet for as long as it’s useful.’
Something soured at the back of my throat. Once again Vigrante had been behind someone’s death and he’d escaped unscathed. But this time Lia was deliberately allowing it. ‘So he wins again.’
When I glanced at Lia, she looked worse than ever. ‘From a distance, Brenna looked like she was sleeping. But the illusion failed when you came closer.’ Her voice was faint, pained. ‘She… she made me think of Father – after.’
Papa’s deathbed rose in my memory, bright and sharp. I instinctively, viciously, shoved it away. Now wasn’t the right time, not when Naruum’s bloody blanket was trying to imprint itself in my mind.
‘If we keep letting Vigrante escape the consequences,’ I said, ‘we’ll never prove anything.’
‘Every time one of his plans fails, we’re closer to him making a bigger mistake. He didn’t expect Brenna to do it, I think, not really.’ Lia hesitated. ‘He’ll pay the Riavaan family a death price for their son with his condolences. He’s not escaping all the consequences. It’s only a small victory, but it’s a start.’
‘Curjan is investigating some names,’ I said, after another few moments of silence. ‘I suspect they’re all linked to Vigrante, but the usual safeguards will be in place.’
Lia rubbed the space between her eyebrows. ‘If the guard can’t give anything else useful, he must die.’
‘I keep trying to untangle it,’ I said, ‘as if I can find the right thread, and pull it, and pinpoint how we could have stopped it all.’
‘Try not to. It won’t end well.’
We stared at each other. Something warm lingered. It usually flickered between us at night, after too many hours talking, wading through reports and hypothetical discussions. The heat turned us drowsy, softened rank and status. I tried not to think about it in harsh daylight.
She glanced at the papers on my desk. ‘News?’
‘Reports on Farezi and Othayria.’
Lia frowned. ‘The marriage market seemed much farther away last year.’ Back when being Queen was a potential future, until the King complained of shortness of breath and stomach pains. ‘It’s horrible to admit, but the suitors may distract the Court from… this.’ She let out a frustrated sigh. ‘All this from poor family decisions and a broken engagement. You want to know where we could have stopped it. I want to pinpoint where Brenna felt her final choice was to die alone, from her own hand, and stop it happening again.’
‘Then we stop Vigrante. He puts people into these situations.’ His methods were simple, clever, and despicable, manipulating people’s loyalty until they failed him. And they all failed him, eventually.
‘I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sight of Naruum’s body.’ I immediately regretted the words. ‘I hardly know why.’
Lia squeezed my arm. ‘That means you’d make different decisions to Vigrante. Don’t be ashamed of it.’
I didn’t speak, hardly breathed, and didn’t acknowledge the action. The warm flickering slowly died, buried under layers of rank and privilege reasserting themselves between us.
I’d seen what love had driven Brenna and Naruum to, and how far the consequences had spread.
Lia ruled Edar and would eventually marry for an heir. I was her Whispers and would avenge Papa’s death.
Love had ruined Brenna and Naruum.
Love would not ruin us.
Chapter Seventeen
Lia
I stopped on the terrace and lifted my face to the sun. Spring had given way to summer, but so far the sticky heat that I hated had stayed away.
‘I can’t wait for proper summer,’ Xania said wistfully.
‘You can’t consider this cold.’
She mock-shivered and laughed. ‘Never visit Rijaan, Your Majesty. You’ll melt.’ She hoped to eventually visit her maternal family’s homeland, past Eshvon to the south-east. A republic, it had scorching summers and a worrying amount of coastal erosion from storms.
Xania and I wandered through the gardens, our idle discussion turning to the grain situation. Transporting excess water to the south had initially helped the drought, but the spring storms weren’t reaching the south. If this continued, the harvests would fail.
I couldn’t hedge my bets anymore and we’d started purchasing grain. I’d used smaller sellers for the last few weeks, but now Farezi had caught on.
Xania passed me a price sheet.
‘They’ve never charged us this much!’
She nodded, already looking weary. She’d likely been in earshot during Coin’s reaction. ‘Coin thinks this is the King’s doing.’
I’d never liked the Farezi King. He’d stomped on his Court’s attempt to start a government, and everyone knew – including him – that his wife held the true power. From everything I’d heard about Rassa lately, he’d chosen to emulate his father instead of his mother.
‘The King thinks he’s being clever.’ I handed the paper back so I wouldn’t rip it apart. ‘He’s as subtle as a battering ram.’ I’d expected Farezi to take advantage, but this was ridiculous. I narrowed my eyes at Xania. ‘Does Coin know you have this?’
‘He may not know I copied it while he shouted at people.’
‘You have that face on you – Don’t worry, I have an idea.’
‘How have relations been with Eshvon since you took the throne?’
‘Better…’
When the Second Empire had crumbled, and we became our own countries again, Othayria and Eshvon had risen under matriarchal rule. Relations between our countries had been poor for decades. Eshvon also produced grain, but exported it east because of Farezi’s stranglehold. When I became Queen, I’d immediately sent reconciliation greetings to Othayria and Eshvon. Now it looked like that might be useful, even if it involved grovelling.
‘You suggest approaching Eshvon?’
‘At worst,’ Xania said, ‘they rebuff us and we pay through the nose to Farezi.’
The thought of Rassa’s smugness made my skin crawl. ‘We have little to offer Eshvon for selling us grain behind Farezi’s back.’
Xania slipped her hands into her dress pockets. ‘Eshvon has too many daughters. Queen Juliaane wants to marry several of them abroad.’
I tried to follow her train of thought.
‘Othayria is sending their first-born son,’ I said.
‘And Prince Aubrey and Princess Isra have always been close. They’d surely enjoy a reunion free from their families.’
‘I should encourage Eshvon to send their youngest daughter in exchange for grain?’
‘There have been worse compromises,’ Xania said.
‘If Coin hasn’t already considered it, I’ll suggest it. I imagine he’ll find me soon enough.’
We sank into a comfortable silence, matching each other’s stride.
Almost a month had passed since Brenna and Naruum’s deaths. Vigrante, who’d kept his head down for a while, had publicly sympathised with the southern crisis, then tried to encourage the western nobles not to send water. His tactics had unexpectedly backfired, fuelled by rumours dogging him since Bren
na’s demise and his death price to the Riavaan family.
Around my ladies, I’d inflamed some of the worst rumours. When I left the room, those who thought Xania couldn’t overhear protested my opinions. The loudest were discreetly relieved of their positions. We didn’t want to remove all of Vigrante’s spies, or someone else would fill the vacuum.
‘Rassa will be arriving soon,’ Xania said.
‘Yes.’ I turned into the nearest walled garden, then froze when I realised it was Baron Bayonn’s garden. While his family still visited, the royal gardeners now oversaw the daily upkeep.
The winter roses, true to their name, hadn’t survived spring’s arrival, but others had been planted so that something bloomed every season. The soft spring roses were giving way to bold summer flowers.
‘I apologise,’ I said. ‘If you wish to leave–’
‘I still visit.’ Xania’s face had turned into a courtier’s mask, carefully hiding any trace of sadness. ‘Papa loved this place.’
‘Mother still likes the winter roses.’ It was poor solace, but awkward silence felt worse.
‘The Duchess is kind.’
Mother rarely did anything out of kindness, but I accepted the politeness. ‘Matthias often comes here to be alone.’ Their friendship had somewhat recovered, but I kept trying to smooth things between them. Considering how I’d reacted to Matthias revealing the passages to Xania, my attempts weren’t just misguided, but hypocritical.
‘That’s good of him.’
‘Rassa’s letter was remarkably cordial.’ I’d never considered him a safe topic before.
‘No unexpected food or wine deliveries,’ she said.
‘He probably considered it,’ I said, ‘and had common sense knocked into him.’
‘I marvel at the sincere concern you royals muster for each other,’ Xania muttered.
‘If you think it’s bad now, wait until they’re all here and the marriage wheels start properly turning. After choosing a husband, I think I’ll go up north for a month to be alone.’ I attempted a wry smile. ‘And they say love is dead.’
‘It is when it involves a crown,’ Xania said.
‘Perhaps a foreign courtier will fall in love with you.’ It was like I had to drag a rusted nail across my hopeful infatuation.
I felt her drawing away from me, as always when I mentioned marriage or romance. ‘No, Your Majesty, I hope not. I don’t wish to leave Edar.’ We went quiet again, until she added, ‘I fear you’re the romantic here.’
‘My mother would be shocked.’
Xania smiled crookedly.
My heart swelled, then squeezed painfully. A romantic, indeed, nursing foolish, futile hopes.
Coin appeared at the garden’s entrance, scanning until he found us. Xania, tensely conscious of the sensitive information she’d ‘borrowed’, slipped away. Even as I wanted her to stay, I felt relieved as Coin stomped towards me. Nursing futile hopes was dangerous.
‘You need to eat something,’ Xania said. ‘Coffee is useless if you pass out.’
A few weeks ago, I’d invited her to join Matthias and me at breakfast. Her discomfort had made me glad he was with us. But I demanded nothing more than her company, and what little conversation we managed – neither of us was morning people, which made it ludicrous in hindsight – and she’d slowly relaxed.
Matthias wasn’t here this morning, dealing with last-minute preparations for Rassa’s arrival. Xania was also focused on it, which seemed to explain her lack of awkwardness around me today.
I drained my cup and refilled it. ‘Rassa will expect me to breakfast with him. He lingers over his food. I need to be hungry.’
Xania nudged a plate towards me. ‘One pastry, Lia. It won’t kill your appetite.’ She paused, then looked away, as if she didn’t trust her expression.
Sometimes, it felt like she considered returning my tentative attempts at signalling interest. Other times, it felt like flinging hope at someone determined to be oblivious.
I ate the pastry.
‘What’s Prince Rassa like in person?’ she asked, as I overloaded another one with butter.
‘The last time I saw him was before we returned to Edar after my aunt’s final miscarriage,’ I said. ‘He liked swords and horses. He liked me, except when I ran faster or dented his head with a practice sword.’
‘Sounds like a perfect match,’ Xania said.
‘Perhaps,’ I said, hoping my expression matched my breezy tone.
‘Do you want me around much in public?’
‘Please. And if you should find someone you like, pursue them with all intent.’
‘I don’t plan on husband-scouting, Your Majesty. Or wife-scouting.’
A knock saved us from ourselves.
Matthias poked his head in. ‘The Farezi party is about an hour away, Lia.’
‘I have to find Zola,’ Xania said. ‘I promised her we’d watch the Farezi arrive together.’
I crushed my flicker of disappointment. ‘Of course.’
She curtseyed and left.
‘Perhaps Your Majesty wishes to follow her like a puppy?’ Matthias asked.
I almost threw a pastry at him, but didn’t want to waste it.
‘I hardly recognised you, dear cousin.’ The corners of Rassa’s hazel eyes crinkled. It was difficult not to resent his laughter lines, while servants used powder to hide the shadows under my eyes.
‘Your eyelashes still put mine to shame.’
Rassa’s smile dimmed. ‘My one failing, according to my father.’
‘Your father is old-fashioned.’
Rassa had asked to speak privately after breakfast. I’d suggested a walk through the gardens. We were close to the Bayonn rose garden, though I didn’t want him to see it after being there with Xania. It felt like a secret between us and Matthias.
Naturally, Rassa stopped at the entrance. ‘Are these your mother’s gardens?’
‘No, hers are on the other side. But she’s officially taken over all of them from Aune Jienne.’ Mother and Aunt Jienne’s battle over the gardens pricked something in my memory, but it faded before I could focus on it.
‘Why your mother?’
‘She enjoys overseeing the gardens. Jienne only felt it was expected of her as Queen.’ As we stepped inside, I added, ‘It’s a winter rose garden, so the flowers are off-season.’
‘Ah, I remember your craze a few years back,’ Rassa said. ‘A few showed up at home. Mother wishes to expand her winter gardens. Edaran rose cuttings would be a fitting contribution.’ He flashed me a grin. ‘Could I speak to the gardener?’
‘A baron created them with the gardeners,’ I said. ‘He died a few years back, but I’m certain his widow will speak with you. Her eldest daughter is one of my ladies.’
‘You must introduce me, then.’
‘I expect you not to break my ladies’ hearts.’
Rassa held up his hands, laughing. Sometimes it was too easy to forget he wanted to take Edar from me. Perhaps this was all a facade to make me doubt his true intentions.
He’d inherited his mother’s clear, pale skin and her thick-lashed eyes, trying to offset both with a neat beard. His dark brown hair fell to his shoulders in waves, and he’d perfected displaying his arm muscles and chest when he ran his fingers through it. He reeked of charisma, but I had what others didn’t: immunity.
I sighed. ‘Enough. Why did you want to speak privately?’
Rassa glanced at the nearest bench. ‘May we sit?’
‘No. Start talking.’
‘Father is concerned.’
‘Ah.’
‘I wish you’d let us sit. You know he’s never liked your mother. She kept you from Court because of her petty feuds–’
‘Your father is concerned about my ability to rule?’ I was glad we hadn’t sat; it made it easier to stop and face him. ‘Careful how you answer, cousin: this could greatly affect how Edar regards Farezi.’
‘I disagree with him.’
‘
I’m sure you do,’ I said.
‘Every ruler has a learning curve when they take the throne. I’m dreading mine.’
I started walking again, making sure to stay ahead. ‘Your father must be eager for a marriage match.’ Of course he would be: a puppet King through which he could influence Edar.
‘There are many advantages to a marriage link with Farezi.’
‘I’m always in dire need of a man’s advice.’
‘You think most highly of your secretary’s advice!’
‘My secretary does not rule.’
‘Edar hasn’t had a Queen in over a century. Your uncle was weak–’
‘And you assume I’ll be the same? I’ve been locking horns with politicians since I took the throne!’
‘No one expects you to battle them alone forever,’ Rassa said. ‘My father only has to contend with his nobles. You have an entire Parliament to handle–’
‘I won’t be manipulated instead of protecting my people.’
Rassa’s face crumpled. ‘Oh. Oh no.’ He collapsed onto the nearest bench. ‘You’re an idealist. This is dreadful.’
‘So this is what you think of me.’ I folded my arms. ‘A foolish idealist living on borrowed time, who needs a man to oversee her rule.’
‘Lia, you must marry for an heir, regardless of–’
‘Regardless of what?’
‘Nothing,’ he said, looking mortified.
My anger meant he’d never suspect my stomach was rolling with panic. I’d always been so careful, once I’d realised where my preferences lay. I’d never flirted with a lady, never showed a hint of attraction, until–
When I opened my mouth to argue further, he snapped, ‘Cousin, enough!’
This was my crossroads. I could push Rassa from annoyance to anger, and ruin everything before it properly began. Or I could swallow my fury and be cautious instead. I’d do everything to prove his father wrong, and find out what Rassa hoped to achieve by coming here.
I’d also use enough of his rashness to leverage our negotiations, not only for grain. The less I had to depend on Farezi or Eshvon, the better.
Queen of Coin and Whispers Page 11