Stranger to the Crown

by Melissa McShane

  The introduction of the staff went more quickly than she’d anticipated. Almost everyone who worked in the palace assembled in the Rotunda for the ceremony, which consisted of the palace housekeeper, Merete Alderly, gesturing people forward and reciting their names. It was rapid enough Elspeth guessed it truly was a formality and she wasn’t expected to remember everyone. Aside from a warm welcome from Merete, whom Elspeth knew from previous visits, Elspeth’s polite nods were enough to satisfy the staff. She resolved to track down Merete later and ask her a slew of questions, including the one about her wardrobe.

  At four o’clock, she sat behind her desk twiddling a pen and hoping that wasn’t too nervous a gesture. Aside from Simkins’ implication that the Papers were the subject of the meeting with Faraday, Elspeth had no idea what to expect. She hoped he wouldn’t be so antagonistic they didn’t accomplish anything.

  There was Simkins’ distinctive knock, tap-tap, tap, light and yet forceful. The door eased open. “Mister Faraday,” Simkins said, ushering the head of Internal Affairs in. Elspeth remembered in time not to stand in response to his entrance.

  “Mister Faraday, thank you for joining me. Won’t you have a seat?” she said. She was determined on politeness until he forced the issue.

  Faraday sat, more easily than Dane had, with a contained energy that looked to Elspeth like impatience. Maybe, if he wanted to be elsewhere just as much as Elspeth, they could make this quick.

  “Your Majesty,” he said. “Where did you put all the paperwork?”

  It was the kind of question that suggested he knew what she’d done with it and was ready to be upset. “Most of it is still here,” she said. “I just organized it. Some of it I was able to give to Mister Branton to pass on to others. And some of it, I burned.”

  Faraday’s eyes widened. “You burned important government paperwork?”

  “It wasn’t important. It was those agriculture reports Lady Beaumont sent. I figured they were redundant because she’s going to submit a summary report next week.”

  “Your Majesty,” Faraday said, his expression harder than before, “I shouldn’t have to point out that you are extremely new to your position and cannot possibly be capable of determining what is important and what isn’t. Burning documentation, particularly documentation you don’t understand, is careless.”

  Elspeth’s cheeks warmed with embarrassment. “It’s not hard to understand that Lady Beaumont wanted me overwhelmed with information. If it was important, she would have brought it to the Council.”

  A muscle in Faraday’s jaw twitched. “Nevertheless, your Majesty, I would prefer if you asked for advice before making summary judgments. I would be happy to assist.” He didn’t look happy.

  “Mister Faraday,” Elspeth said, “I’m not too proud to admit I could use your help. I would like us to work together.”

  Faraday nodded curtly. “You seem to have made great progress,” he said. “What else did you find?”

  “What looked like several weeks’ worth of daily schedules.” Which she had also burned. “Reports from different…what do you call the areas of government the Council members are in charge of?”

  “Departments, your Majesty.”

  “Then—reports from different departments.” She didn’t mention how few those were. That might mean the department heads were doing their jobs properly. “And a number of requests from the ruling lords and ladies, asking that the Queen pass judgment on certain matters. I wasn’t sure what to do with them.” She tapped a stack of papers, the largest one.

  “Those come under the responsibility of Internal Affairs. I’ll deal with them.” He held out a hand for the papers. Elspeth hesitated.

  “I appreciate your assistance, Mister Faraday, but these were addressed to me—well, to Francis, most of them, but to the King or Queen. Shouldn’t I give them my personal attention?”

  “My department will assess the requests and return the ones that really do need the Queen’s attention. It frees you to deal with other things.” Faraday’s hand hadn’t wavered. Elspeth gave him the stack of paper.

  “What I didn’t find,” she said, “are Mister Caxton’s financial reports. I don’t suppose you know anything about Francis’s filing system?”

  Faraday’s dark expression grew momentarily more sour. “His Majesty was…not good at organization,” he said. “He depended heavily on his secretary to keep track of things. Miss Simkins might know where the financial reports are.”

  “I’ll ask her.”

  An awkward silence fell. Elspeth hoped it meant Faraday considered the meeting over. But he continued to sit, tapping the sheaf of papers against the palm of one hand, his gaze focused on her. Uncomfortable, Elspeth finally said, “Mister Faraday, could I ask your advice?” She didn’t particularly want to put herself in his debt, but for all he was rude and dismissive, he also wasn’t servile, and he might be the only person willing to be honest with her.

  Faraday nodded.

  “How do I know where the balance lies? I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but from what I’ve learned in clearing his desk, Francis swung wildly between being too involved in the details of running the country and being not nearly involved enough. I don’t think he’s a good example for me to model my behavior on. But I don’t know anything about ruling a country, so I need something to guide me. What have others in my position done?”

  To her surprise, Faraday seemed taken aback by this question. His stern demeanor relaxed slightly. “It’s been a hundred years since there was anyone in your position. And Willow North was prepared to rule by everything she did to reclaim the Crown from Terence Valant. But she wasn’t any more or less educated on the details of ruling than you are, though it was to her advantage that she invented the Council and was in a position to tell her councilors what their responsibilities would be.”

  “So are there…I don’t know. Books? Teachers? I mean to learn to do this job, Mister Faraday.”

  “Internal Affairs stands ready to support you. You can bring anything you don’t understand to me or my aides.”

  It was so unexpectedly helpful Elspeth was surprised again. Faraday didn’t look any more friendly, but he seemed sincere. “That’s…I appreciate that. But I’d like more than to pass the decisions off to someone else. I’d like an explanation of why things work the way they do.”

  Faraday frowned. “I’m sure that’s possible. But it will impose a heavier burden on my department.”

  “One that will ease as I gain in understanding.”

  Faraday nodded again. “I suppose that’s true. Very well. Someone will bring you the items from this—” He waved the sheaf of papers—“that require your signature, and will collect any more that come to you in the meantime.”

  “Thank you, Mister Faraday.” She wished she didn’t feel quite so uneasy at simply handing off important documents to him, but the point of having councilors was to do just that. She rose, and Faraday followed suit. Impulsively, she said, “You don’t approve of me, do you.”

  Faraday raised a single eyebrow, a gesture that made him look even more annoyed. “It’s not my place to approve or disapprove of my Queen.”

  “But you don’t.”

  “I apologize if I have given offense.” Faraday’s expression was now bland and uncommunicative.

  “No. I understand I’m not the Queen you might have wanted. I just hope you’ll give me a chance to prove myself.”

  Faraday bowed, not very deeply. “I’m sure you will do very well,” he said, and let himself out before Elspeth could do more than draw a single outraged breath. The nerve of that man…! Well, she’d show him. She didn’t like him, didn’t really feel she needed him to like her, but she’d be damned if she’d give him any more reasons to look down on her.

  She flung herself back into her chair and yanked open the first drawer, which stuck. Muttering angrily to herself, she emptied its contents onto the now mostly clean desktop and sorted through them. I’m sure you will d
o very well. How dare he patronize her!

  She managed to clean and reorganize three of the twelve drawers—the smallest ones, but still—before Simkins knocked on her door at six o’clock. “Your Majesty will wish to dress for supper,” she said.

  “No, Miss Simkins, my Majesty would very much not like to dress for supper,” Elspeth said. Immediately she felt bad about letting her foul temper strike an innocent person. “That is—I’m sorry, Miss Simkins. Is dressing for supper mandatory when it’s just me and Aunt Veronica?”

  “My apologies, your Majesty. I thought you knew. Twice weekly, when you have no other commitments, you are scheduled to dine with members of your Council. It is a formal affair.”

  And she didn’t have any formal Tremontanan garments. “Who is it tonight?” Please don’t say Mister Faraday, please don’t say Mister Faraday—

  “Lady Serena d’Arden and Lord Felix Harrington,” Simkins said. “Supper will be served at six-thirty in the east wing.”

  That wouldn’t be so bad. “All right. Thanks for the reminder.” She shut the final drawer and left the office, passing a servant in rough clothes whose likely job was cleaning and putting the fire out for the night. She nodded politely, and the servant ducked his head and hurried past her. It was hard to believe the Queen couldn’t even be polite without embarrassing someone.

  Back in her suite, she sorted through her few clothes and settled on a Veriboldan silk robe over black linen shirt and trousers, something she might have worn to an embassy gala. The robe was North blue embroidered with silver cats, and putting it on comforted her. Lord Harrington would understand that she didn’t mean any offense by not dressing in the Tremontanan style, and Lady d’Arden…well, Elspeth didn’t know the first thing about her, but hopefully she had the good manners of a noblewoman and wouldn’t comment. She settled her toan jade atop her shirt and briefly ran her fingers over its smooth surface, a reassurance that not everything about her had changed.

  When she arrived in the drawing room, Veronica and the two councilors were already there, seated near the fire. They all rose when she entered. That was going to take some getting used to. “Good evening,” Elspeth said. “Thank you for coming.”

  “Thank you for inviting us when you’re probably overwhelmed by everything else,” Lady d’Arden said with a smile. “I hope we’re not a burden.”

  “No, of course not,” Elspeth said. “Shall we eat?”

  She almost took the seat she was used to from all those earlier visits instead of the chair at the head of the table, which Lord Harrington held for her. Nobody noticed her near misstep, but she blushed anyway. To cover her embarrassment, while the soup course was being served, she asked Lady d’Arden, “How long have you been on the Council?”

  “Just a year, your Majesty,” Lady d’Arden said. “Before that I ran my own business—well, string of businesses. I was an importer of chocolate as well as the owner of a number of chocolate- and coffee-houses.”

  “I love chocolate,” Elspeth said. “And that sounds so interesting. What made you take the position on the Council?”

  “I was recommended by my predecessor. And much as I loved the autonomy, I had to admit I could do more for the country serving on the Council.” She sipped the creamy white soup at her place.

  “I haven’t found Miss Hardison’s recommendations for her successor yet. I’m afraid the royal desk was a little cluttered.” Immediately Elspeth wondered if they would hear that as a sideways jab at Francis’s skills, and forged ahead with, “Is there some way I can meet with those people? I’d like to have a more personal interaction with them, if one of them is to be a councilor.”

  “I’m sure Miss Simkins can arrange it,” Lord Harrington said. “She’s an excellent assistant. She was a Foreign Affairs attaché before taking the position as royal secretary.”

  Elspeth took a spoonful of soup. So delicious. “Then you must know her—or is that wrong? I don’t know how your department works aside from what you do in Veribold.”

  “I don’t have personal contact with everyone, no—it’s too large a department for that. But it’s true I know Miss Simkins. In fact, I recommended her for her current position.”

  “She must be highly qualified, then. I know she’s extremely efficient.”

  Lord Harrington nodded. “And how is your family, your Majesty?”

  “Very well, thank you.” A memory of how they’d all looked the morning she left passed swiftly through her mind, and a lump rose in her throat. “I would like them to be here for the coronation, but that’s probably not possible.”

  “I’m sure you left many friends behind in Veribold,” Lady d’Arden said with a look of sympathy that made Elspeth’s throat tighten more. “You’ve led such an interesting life.”

  “Not really,” Elspeth said, swallowing. “I mean, it’s true Veribold is different from Tremontane, but the things I did weren’t all that unusual. I had tutors and went to parties and made friends.”

  “And had a religious life,” Lord Harrington said. “Tremontane worships very differently.”

  “Really? I didn’t know. In what ways?” Elspeth had assumed that, with both countries sharing the same fundamental beliefs, the way they expressed those beliefs would also be similar.

  “Well, we have nothing like the Irantzen Temple,” Lord Harrington said with a smile. “And no one here is ordained to lead in worship. Anyone might officiate at a wedding, or creating a family bond, so long as they have a bond of their own. Most Tremontanans would find your desire to become a priestess incomprehensible.”

  That made Elspeth feel uncomfortable, as if there was something shameful about the desires of her heart. “I suppose I always thought Uncle Landon led the Midsummer rites because being King gave him special…I don’t know. A connection to the people?”

  “No, that’s just tradition. Anyone could do it, but it’s an honor accorded the King. And you, now.”

  The uncomfortable feeling increased. How could these people be so casual about their religious observances? If just anyone could officiate, that made the rites less special, less intimate. “So, you don’t have any people who are drawn to worship? No one who cares for the bethels or mediates religious disputes?”

  Lord Harrington shook his head. “There are those who care more about religion than others, yes, but they aren’t given any special respect except what they earn. That is, the fact of dedicating part of their lives to heaven doesn’t itself make them special.”

  It felt like an insult, but his calm tone and placid demeanor gave her no reason to call him on it. “That’s very different.”

  “What would you have done as a priestess?” Lady d’Arden asked.

  Elspeth leaned back for the servants to remove her soup bowl and set in front of her poached fish with a side of asparagus drenched in butter and melted cheese. “Officiated at weddings and funerals. Listened to people with problems and guided them to understanding. Helped others during the Irantzen Festival. But mostly it meant prayer and meditation to bring me closer to heaven.” She touched the toan jade. “That, at least, is something I can still do.”

  “Yes, you shouldn’t have to give up your faith just because you’re in Tremontane,” Lady d’Arden said with a smile. “Maybe you’ll find similarities between the two.”

  Elspeth smiled back. “It’s true that I miss my home,” she said, “but I hope to make a home here as well.”

  “You certainly look like a piece of Veribold dropped into the palace,” Lord Harrington said, gesturing at Elspeth’s clothing. The humor in his eyes made Elspeth laugh.

  “I’ll need a new wardrobe, true,” she said. “Though maybe I can bring some Veriboldan influences into Tremontane. New fashions—these are so comfortable. And I wouldn’t mind encouraging the cook to learn Veriboldan cuisine.”

  “I’ve never had Veriboldan food,” Veronica said in her quiet, pale voice. “Is it true they put fish sauce on everything?”

  “They do like ang dieh
, yes, but it’s really only for beef. It tastes better than it smells. Though it is one of those foods where you have to wonder who first had the idea to try it. It’s not an obvious condiment.” Elspeth took a bite of fish and again had to swallow past the lump in her throat, it smelled so much like ang dieh. She needed to control herself so these people didn’t think she was overly emotional.

  They ate in silence for a few minutes, paying homage to the cook’s genius. When the fish course was removed, Lord Harrington said, “Do you know when your coronation will be held, your Majesty?”

  “Mister Dane said it would be as soon as possible, but he didn’t say what that meant. I hope soon. I’d like to get it over with.”

  “I imagine having all those people staring at you would be overwhelming,” Lady d’Arden said sympathetically.

  That aspect of the ceremony hadn’t occurred to Elspeth. “I was actually thinking it would make me feel more legitimate. Right now I feel as if I’m waiting for a storm looming on the horizon. It might be a deluge, or it might be a scattering of drops, and I won’t know until it gets here what to expect.”

  “Very poetical.” Lady d’Arden accepted the tender slice of pork loin the servant placed in front of her. “I think I understand. You don’t know enough yet to even know what’s expected of you, is that right, your Majesty?”

  “That’s it exactly. The coronation feels symbolic of that.” Elspeth didn’t much care for pork, but she ate a few bites to be polite. It was delicious, for pork.

  “We of the Council will do whatever it takes to ensure Tremontane’s government is secure,” Lord Harrington said. He, by contrast, had tucked into his pork loin like it was the best meal he’d had all week. “So of course we will all support your Majesty as you gain confidence.”

  “I appreciate that, Lord Harrington.” She picked at her meal a little longer until the plate was removed and replaced by tossed green vegetables in a light vinaigrette. That was more to her taste. “And speaking of gaining confidence, I thought I should become more familiar with the legal obligations of the Queen. Is that written down anywhere?”