“Thank you all,” Elspeth said when Caxton had made his introduction and sat down. “Now, I apologize for my lack of information, and I hope you will all bear with me as I learn. How does a typical Council meeting proceed?”
No one spoke at first, and nobody seemed interested in meeting anyone else’s eyes. After a pause that felt to Elspeth to go on for at least two years, Faraday said, “It’s the Queen’s duty to present those matters she wants the Council to deliberate on, or vote on.” He leaned back in his chair as if, having delivered this ultimatum, there were nothing more to say.
Elspeth quailed inside. Faraday hadn’t been overtly hostile or even rude, but his whole demeanor was that of a man who’d already decided she was a failure. She firmed up her chin and said, “Thank you, Mister Faraday. I arrived in Aurilien yesterday and there’s been no time this morning for me to make any such decisions. But you all know the state of the Council at my cousin’s death. Are there any matters of business you were…deliberating on when he became ill?”
More silence. Elspeth’s feelings of inadequacy turned into frustration. Yes, she was completely unprepared for this role, but surely these people more than anyone else cared that she not remain that way? “You mean,” she said, unable to keep that frustration from touching her voice, “the Council wasn’t doing anything before Francis’s death?”
That got a reaction. Lady Wilde sat up straighter, as did Caxton. “Are you suggesting we didn’t do our duty?” the elderly Lord Heath demanded.
“I have no idea,” Elspeth shot back. “I wasn’t here. I only know what you tell me.”
“You are entirely correct, your Majesty,” Lord Harrington said in a soothing tone of voice that placated Elspeth rather than infuriating her. “I think we were all simply working out what details you need to know. Foreign Affairs sent a report to his late Majesty on our diplomatic presence in Ruskald and the need to assign more soldiers to the embassy there.”
“Is something wrong with our relations with Ruskald?” Elspeth gratefully clung to the lifeline Lord Harrington threw her.
“Something is always wrong with our Ruskalder relations, your Majesty,” Lord Harrington said with a rueful smile. “But in this case, it’s a matter of cultural differences. The Ruskalder see a show of military strength as a mark of Tremontane’s power. Our ambassador sent word that the Ruskalder have been making dominance plays over the last few months. An increased military presence will calm that situation.”
“I see. Thank you, Lord Harrington. General Beckett, is that something Defense should handle?”
Beckett looked startled at being addressed. “I, ah, yes, your Majesty. With your permission, my people will work with Foreign Affairs to make this right.”
“Certainly.” The knot of tension at the base of her neck loosened. She’d done something right! “Is there anything else?”
Hardison leaned forward. “There’s the matter of my replacement,” she said. Her voice was gruff, deeper than Beckett’s and more quavering than Lord Heath’s.
“Your…replacement?”
“My term is up in a week, your Majesty. I’ve sent my recommendations for my successor to your office.”
Elspeth thought of all the papers she hadn’t yet looked at. Her momentary feelings of success faded. “I’ll look at them as soon as possible. Is that a decision the Council votes on?”
Hardison’s lip curled slightly. “It’s tradition that your Majesty presents your chosen candidate for a Council vote.”
Elspeth chose not to address the hidden rudeness. “Thank you, Miss…Mistress?”
“Miss,” Hardison said. She leaned back in her chair and rested her interlaced fingers on the table. Beside her, Lady Wilde sneered openly at Hardison. Maybe it was for the best that Hardison was leaving.
“I haven’t gotten a response to my report on provincial taxation,” Caxton said. The round little man eyed Elspeth as if he blamed her for Francis’s shortcomings. “We need approval for more tax collectors. We need more auditors. And there are budget shortfalls to address.”
It was like being pelted with gravel, one little thing after another. “I’ll find that report immediately,” Elspeth assured him.
“The taxation report should come to the Council,” Faraday said. “Financial matters are voted on rather than determined solely by the Queen.”
He still sounded as disapproving as a tutor chastising her for poor penmanship. Elspeth said, “Thank you, Mister Faraday. I appreciate your patience as I learn.” She’d hoped the sideways criticism would soften his attitude, but if anything, his demeanor grew harder. “Mister Caxton, have you sent this report to every member of the Council?”
Caxton reddened. “No, your Majesty. King Francis always made the decision as to what to bring to our attention.”
“Well, I realize I’m new to this, but that seems to have potential for abuse. I’d like your office to make copies for everyone to study before we meet again—how often does the Council meet?” There, that had sounded decisive and not at all as if she was desperately putting off something she didn’t understand. She’d always been terrible at mathematics, and finance sounded even more complicated.
“Weekly, unless urgent matters arise,” Faraday said.
“Then a week from today. That should give everyone plenty of time to become familiar with the subject.” It might be enough time for her to learn to fake her understanding.
Thinking that reminded her of something else. “Lady Beaumont, I saw a report on crop yields on my desk. Is there something I’m supposed to do with that?”
Lady Beaumont didn’t stir from her relaxed position. “It’s for your information, your Majesty. King Francis always wanted to stay informed about the country.”
“I see.” Francis had been dumber than she’d thought if his idea of staying informed was to be inundated with minutiae. Lady Beaumont’s lazy smile told Elspeth she knew how foolish Francis had been and that she fully intended to go on swamping Elspeth, believing she was too polite or too ignorant to protest. Elspeth had seen that smile on Sela many times; the priestess loved burdening the juniors and the aspirants with things they had no power to resist. Well, Elspeth no longer had to put up with that.
“I agree it’s important for me to know what’s going on,” she continued, “but the point of having a head of Agriculture is to have someone who understands her…her charge who can pass that understanding on. I’m sure you know better than I do what those crop yield reports mean. So in future, I’d like you to summarize that information and present it to me as a single document. Oh, and if you could include comparison figures, such as the difference in, say, crop yields from one year to the next, that would be excellent.”
The smile fell away from Lady Beaumont’s face. Elspeth saw Lady Quinn conceal a smile. “Very well, your Majesty,” Lady Beaumont said. She didn’t sound nearly so self-satisfied as before.
“Anything else?” Elspeth asked. This time, the silence that fell wasn’t quite so uncomfortable, as everyone was able to meet her eyes. “Then, to summarize, General Beckett and Lord Harrington will work together to bolster our military presence in Ruskald, I will make a decision on Miss Hardison’s replacement, Mister Caxton will arrange for his report to go to each of you for deliberation next week, and Lady Beaumont, I expect to see that summary sometime before our next meeting. In case there’s anything we need to address then.” Elspeth couldn’t help needling the woman. It was probably unbecoming in a Queen, but she was still on edge and having trouble controlling herself.
She rose, and the councilors rose with her. “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, I’m grateful for your service to the Crown. Mister Faraday, I will see you this afternoon.” That was not a meeting she looked forward to, but maybe she could convince the formidable Internal Affairs head that she wasn’t a total loss. Unlikely, but there was always a chance.
She found her office again by way of following some of her councilors back to the north wing, pretending that wasn
’t what she was doing. The office was starting to feel like a haven despite the glowering presence of the Papers, as she’d come to think of them. They certainly felt like they had a life of their own and delighted in making her miserable.
She discovered in sorting the Papers that a third of them were agricultural reports. She happily dumped those in the fire, which was an actual fire and not a Device. No amount of searching turned up the financial report Caxton had referred to, though, and Elspeth had almost nerved herself up to start searching the bookshelves when someone knocked on the door. It was Simkins. “Your Majesty,” she said with a disapproving frown, “dinner was served five minutes ago.”
“Oh!” Elspeth pulled out her watch. “I was caught up in all this. I don’t suppose someone could bring me something? I’m not terribly hungry.”
Simkins’ disapproving frown deepened. “King Francis always insisted on a leisurely noon meal. It is important you not neglect your needs.”
“Oh.” Elspeth’s mind went to the cook in the east wing, and how disappointed she would be if Elspeth didn’t appreciate her hard work. She dusted off her hands and rose from her seat. “I…need someone to show me the way back to the east wing.”
Simkins’ eyebrows went up. “I beg your pardon, your Majesty?”
Elspeth’s cheeks heated up. “I always used to get lost in this place. It’s confusing. I’m sure eventually I’ll know my way around, but for now…”
“I see.” Simkins didn’t sound as if she did, but she refrained from any more comment. “I would be happy to show you the way.”
They walked in silence through the halls. Elspeth was desperately engaged in memorizing turns and taking note of unusual paint colors when Simkins said, “Would your Majesty prefer I bring the day’s schedule in the morning, or the evening before?”
“What? Oh. What did Francis do?”
“He chose to receive his schedule the evening before.” Simkins sounded more disapproving than ever. Elspeth wasn’t sure what difference it made, except that if she had the schedule in the evening, that would give her more time to fret over what it contained.
“I think I’d rather have it in the morning. Make a fresh start.”
Simkins nodded. “Very well, your Majesty.” The look she directed at Elspeth was almost friendly.
At the door to the east wing, Elspeth impulsively said, “Would you like to eat with me? I’m not sure if Aunt Veronica is here.”
Simkins’ eyes widened and her mouth fell open slightly. “Eat with…” She regained her composure and said, “That is an honor, your Majesty, but I’m afraid I have other duties.”
“I understand.” Elspeth didn’t particularly want to share a meal with the stern Simkins, but the thought of eating alone in the east wing dining room, at its table large enough to seat thirty, unnerved her. She entered the east wing and slumped toward the dining room. She’d never felt so alone in her life.
Veronica wasn’t there. Fortunately, the dining room was empty and cold, and Elspeth followed her nose to her own sitting room, where she found her meal waiting for her: tomato bisque, a few pieces of roast chicken, and half a small loaf of nutty brown bread. She’d half expected the kind of hearty, overblown, multi-course meal Landon had been fond of, and half expected one of Francis’s favorite thin broths accompanied by steamed vegetables. This said someone in the kitchen remembered what she liked even though she’d so rarely visited, and it cheered her tremendously.
She ate without rushing and was still done by 12:35, according to her lovely watch. Steeling herself, she headed back to the north wing and managed to find her way there without a single wrong turn. This cheered her further, and she was able to face the Papers for a few minutes and make more progress before one o’clock, when another knock on her door heralded Simkins’ entrance. “Aldous Dane to see you,” she said.
Elspeth, conscious that her hair was a frizzy mess, straightened in her seat and raked her fingers through her hair a few times. “Show him in,” she said.
Aldous Dane was the oldest, frailest man she had ever seen. He moved as if he was afraid his bones might fracture from an incautious impact with the floor. His stooped shoulders were broad, though, and he had a head of thick white hair, both of which suggested he’d been hale and powerful in his youth. Elspeth rose automatically when he entered. “Mister Dane, welcome,” she said.
Half a second’s casting about reminded her there was only one chair in the room. “Miss Simkins, please bring a chair for Mister Dane,” she said. Simkins looked like she didn’t think fetching things was in her job description, but she brought a chair and set it before the desk. Dane sank cautiously into it.
“Well,” he said. “You’re not what I expected, Your Majesty.”
His voice was much heartier than the rest of him, and his frank, appraising gaze was that of a much younger man. “What did you expect?” Elspeth asked impulsively.
“Honestly? A timid mouse who barely spoke Tremontanese,” Dane replied. “All anyone knew of you was that you were raised Veriboldan and intended to become a priestess. That implies so much. But you seem to be doing all right.”
Elspeth smiled. “I’m not sure how true that is, but I’m determined to see this through.”
“Good attitude.” Dane leaned back in his chair and said, “I’m here to plan your coronation, as you know. May I ask what you had in mind?”
“I didn’t have anything in mind. I didn’t even know I had to be crowned. I thought I just…became Queen.”
“It’s true you’re the Queen regardless of ceremony, but the official investiture is to make explicit the link between you and your country and your people. There are a number of different coronation rituals, each designed to fit the needs of the ruler. My estimation is you’ll want something that isn’t showy, but makes it clear you have a right to the Crown, what with the nature of your accession.”
“I’d like that. I don’t really want anything huge or dramatic. And—as soon as possible.”
“You can leave that to me,” Dane said. “Then all you and I need to discuss is who will crown you.”
Elspeth blinked. “I thought you did that.”
Dane laughed, but not in a cruel way. “No, that would be inappropriate. Usually it’s another member of your family.”
“Oh. I suppose that means my Aunt Veronica. Is that all right?”
“If you think it wouldn’t be difficult for her. She crowned King Francis, after all.”
“I hadn’t thought about that. Could my father…my family might come for the coronation.”
Dane frowned. “The implications of Prince Sebastian crowning his daughter are fraught. It might raise questions of your legitimacy, as people start asking why he isn’t King instead.”
“I see.” Elspeth sighed. “I really think it should be Aunt Veronica, but I’ll ask her and give her the choice.”
“Very wise.” Dane shifted in his seat. “Have you given any thought to a Consort?”
“What? No! I’ve only been Queen for eight days, Mister Dane. I haven’t even met anyone who could fill that role!”
“You should begin thinking about it,” Dane said, not disturbed by her outburst. “With King Francis dying without an heir of the body, people can’t help speculating about when you will perpetuate the line.”
It hit her like a slap to the face. With everything else that had happened, marrying and having children was far from her mind. Dane’s words sent her heart thudding against her ribs. Marrying had never been part of her plan, certainly not since she’d entered into her apprenticeship at the Irantzen Temple. That had to change. But marrying—no, encountering men she might marry and choosing between them—the enormity of the task made her brain shut down.
“I’ll think about it,” she said, wondering who she could even ask about where she might meet eligible men.
“Very good, your Majesty.” Dane stiffly got to his feet. “I will send information about what you will need to do for the coronation. Mo
st of the details, you can leave to me.”
More Papers to read. Elspeth suppressed a sigh. “Thank you, Mister Dane.”
Dane took a few steps toward the door. “You know,” he said, “you remind me very much of Queen Willow. She, too, came to this position unprepared. And she made it her own. I think you’ll do very well.”
“You knew Queen Willow?” He was certainly old enough for that to be possible.
“I was born in the early years of her reign. My father was master of ceremonies when she was crowned. He always said she had no appreciation for tradition, but he said it with grudging pride, as if her lack of understanding was a strength.” Dane smiled reflectively. “If you remember why you took on this challenge, what motivates you, you’ll retain the strength you will need when things are difficult. Don’t hesitate to ask for help.”
“Thank you,” Elspeth repeated. She shut the door behind him and leaned against it, her forehead pressed to the wood. Why had she taken on this challenge? Because she didn’t want Tremontane to fall into disaster. Why that mattered to her, she had no idea, because it wasn’t as if she felt any loyalty to the country.
She remembered the great round table in the Council chamber. Willow North had stood before it, faced down recalcitrant councilors and bent them to her will. Elspeth wasn’t nearly so forceful. But she wasn’t weak, either, and she was determined to see this through. She did wonder what kind of priestesses they had in Tremontane that anyone would believe one to be shy and retiring. Well, if that was the only misconception she had to straighten out, things wouldn’t be as bad as she feared.
6
She tackled the Papers more energetically than before, and by 3:15 had, not a clear desk, but one on which the Papers were neatly stacked. It was only a start, because she hadn’t yet dug into the drawers, some of which were crammed so full they couldn’t close properly, but it was a good start.
Stranger to the Crown Page 6