Innocent Queen: A Court Intrigue Fantasy (The Forbidden Queen Series Book 2)

by R. J. Vickers

  “We have reached an unexpected junction in Baylore’s trade. I’m sure you are well aware of the ongoing uncertainty with Larkhaven and the work we have just begun on the Great Southern Road.” My voice was still echoing oddly in the silence. I wished someone would cough or rustle in their seat. “I have invited you here today to hear your thoughts on the future of Baylore’s trade. I will not hold you accountable for anything said in this room, so please speak freely.”

  I waited a minute, studying the gathered merchants, but no one spoke. The merchants were a surprising mix—men and women, old and young, finely and simply dressed, some with distinctly foreign features. There were even two Weavers among their number, both middle-aged, their silver hair generously interspersed with black.

  “Has your business been affected by events lately?” I prompted at last, when it seemed no response was forthcoming. “Is there some way I could help matters?”

  “One of our caravans is delayed returning from Larkhaven,” a grey-haired man with a silk doublet said at last. “However, it is winter, so delays are to be expected.” He tugged at a silk scarf tied about his throat. “Of course, the uncertainty with Larkhaven is concerning. If they do break away, we don’t know what it will mean. Will they capture any ships and caravans east of the Wandering Woods? Will they allow trade if we work out separate deals with their new government?”

  Several others were nodding.

  “We’ve postponed our most recent trade, Your Majesty,” one of the Weavers said. Her voice was soft and gravelly. “If this turns into a civil war, which some say might happen, we could risk losing everything that goes through Larkhaven.”

  “And do you think the Great Southern Road will help alleviate the problem, or will it turn Larkhaven even more firmly against us?” I asked.

  “Oh, I think we all consider it an excellent idea,” said a haughty-looking young man with a peacock feather bobbing on his hat. “Most of us would continue trading through Larkhaven if we had the choice, since King’s Port is much farther away, but those of us who supply the smugglers would certainly go directly through King’s Port. And if we lost Larkhaven, we would be able to re-route our trade through the southern port without going bankrupt.”

  “May I venture a suggestion, Your Majesty?” said a woman with short brown hair, dressed in kidskin trousers and a loose white poet shirt.

  “Please.”

  “The prospect of trading directly with King’s Port is enticing. If you need help funding the Great Southern Road, I recommend offering merchants the chance to pay for a portion in exchange for exclusive trade rights along the road for the first half year of its existence.”

  “Good idea,” a portly man said from the back of the room.

  “Any merchants who decide they are not interested in those rights could then sell them to others who want priority.”

  It was brilliant. That would lighten the tax burden on my citizens and win the project more support among the city’s craftspeople and merchants. And an influx of funding might speed up the work, which now seemed more urgent than ever.

  “It’s quite a gamble,” an elderly woman said. “If civil war breaks out, we might encounter lengthy delays on the project. We could be waiting ten years before our investment pays off. And I for one might not be around that long.”

  “No one is saying you need to get involved,” said a man with a long face and a pointed black beard. “It is an opportunity for those of us who are interested, and no loss for those who are not.”

  “I do not intend to start a war with our eastern coast,” I added. “If we can finish this road in the next year or two, it might be less costly to simply hold off on trade until then. A civil war will serve no one.” I did not want to mention the war the Truthbringers had threatened.

  “I think it’s a grand idea,” the long-faced man said. “The first merchants to visit King’s Port will undoubtedly have the chance to negotiate excellent trade deals. Who knows—we may even begin trading directly with the residents of King’s Port.”

  “Very good. As for the situation on the coast, has anyone else heard recent news or rumors from Larkhaven? I fear my information is outdated. Ever since King Baltheor returned from negotiating with their governor a few spans back, we’ve heard no word.”

  Several merchants shook their heads.

  “Beg pardon, Your Majesty,” said the portly man. “King Baltheor left the city only days ago, did he not? We heard no reason for his departure, but we guessed he was on his way back to Larkhaven.”

  “Yes, that’s correct. With any luck, we will hear word soon.”

  “Good, good.”

  This was going better than I had anticipated. The merchants warmed to the talk of trade; their earlier hesitancy was gone. It would be a great comfort to have support within the city, so I ventured to ask the question that had tugged at me from the start. “I realize this question may come across as indelicate, but what is your general stance on the Truthbringers and their ideas? I merely wonder what opinions I should consider when making trade laws.”

  “I don’t think any of us support what the Truthbringers are doing,” the short-haired woman said, looking around the room. Many of her fellows nodded. “My livelihood is dependent on magical goods, and as the Truthbringers continue to marginalize and discriminate against my suppliers, my position grows more and more precarious.”

  “She’s right,” said the Weaver who had spoken before. “Most of us trade in magical goods, Your Majesty. We would be grateful if you put in place some sort of law to protect our trade from the Truthbringers.”

  A few others murmured their agreement.

  “Thank you very much. I appreciate your input. If you hear any further word from Larkhaven, or if you think of any other ways I could help protect our trade, speak to the guards at the palace gates, and they will pass word to me. I seek only to protect the founding values of Baylore, but that is becoming harder by the day.”

  Several merchants nodded.

  “Go now, and keep a wary eye on the Truthbringers. They have something planned, I’m sure of it, but I don’t know what it is.”

  As the merchants stood and donned their coats and cloaks, I approached the short-haired woman who had offered such an insightful suggestion.

  “What is your name?” I asked.

  “Mellicante Almershain, Your Majesty.” She gave me a shallow bow before continuing to fasten the buttons of her coat.

  “I was impressed with your proposal, Mellicante. Would you consider a position as my advisor?”

  “You know nothing about me, Your Majesty. For all you know, I could be smuggling illicit substances into Baylore.”

  “I doubt that. It was merely an idea—will you think about it?”

  “Certainly, Your Majesty.” I thought I caught a hint of sarcasm in her tone.

  That evening, I asked Deance if she could ask around to see if any of her mother’s contacts knew about Mellicante Almershain. “I may have a new advisor starting soon,” I said.

  “Hopefully not one as objectionable as Cal?”

  “That’s what you’re trying to find out.”

  10

  The Investigation

  O n my way to breakfast the next morning, Ornan approached me and bowed with a nervous-looking smile.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “There’s someone you need to see. He was among the merchants yesterday.”

  Confused, I followed Ornan down the stairs to the lower level, where he led me along a winding passageway I had never before followed.

  “Who lives in these rooms?” I asked softly.

  “Ladies-in-waiting and guards and lesser nobility, I believe. Here.” He stopped before a door and pushed it open.

  Inside, a man sat on the end of a narrow bed. He had sandy brown hair and an open, kind-looking face, but a line of red welts ran down his neck and across the top of his chest, where his top two buttons were undone. He loo
ked familiar, but I did not remember seeing anyone injured at yesterday’s gathering.

  “Ornan said you came with the merchants yesterday. Who are you? Are you a merchant?”

  “No, Your Majesty.” He rose, wincing, and bowed. “My name is Wistin. Ornan is a friend of mine, from the same caravan, and I helped him get to the palace when he was close to dying. He sent word to let me know he was safe, and when the Truthbringers came for me too, I waited for the chance to get into the palace and beg for sanctuary. It was risky, I know, but I didn’t have any other choice.”

  I fought back annoyance at Ornan. He probably hadn’t known his friend would follow him here. “Do you have forbidden blood as well?” I asked.

  “I’m an Extractor, same as Ornan, Your Majesty.”

  “Then how did you avoid getting attacked when the horsemen came after your caravan?”

  He pulled up his left sleeve, where an angry red X from a fresh burn marred the skin inside his wrist. “I didn’t have the brand until just now, Your Majesty. I was born outside the city, so the horsemen didn’t know what I was until they questioned the rest of our band. Then they hauled me through the gates and gave me to the Truthbringers. I barely escaped.”

  This was the last thing I needed—more Extractors hidden away in the palace. If even one of them was discovered, I would be accused of harboring murderers.

  But I couldn’t throw him back onto the streets to die. If I had been born under different circumstances, I might have been the one begging for protection.

  “Our situation is very delicate right now,” I said. “I can allow you to stay here only if you promise to remain in your room at all times. Ornan will bring meals for you, and guards will watch your door. Is this acceptable, or would you prefer to return to the city?”

  “No, no, that’s fine,” Wistin said hastily. He gave me an uncertain smile. “I’m very grateful, Your Majesty. I don’t know where else I would go.”

  I turned to go before I changed my mind. Outside the door, I whispered to Ornan, “Do you think he’s telling the truth?”

  “I think so. He’s definitely an Extractor, and he did help me get here safely. He’s a kind man, though he has a bit of a gambling problem.”

  “Hmm. Will you watch his door until I send guards to replace you?”

  Ornan nodded, and I strode away, dearly hoping Wistin had not come here to avoid paying his gambling debts. I was only willing to shelter honest victims of discrimination, not petty criminals.

  * * *

  The first small gathering was only two days away. I had mainly invited my close friends and supporters to this one, because I wished to ensure everything ran smoothly before I faced my enemies. However, I had included Olleack, Nashella, Ellarie, Pollard, and Morrisse among the guests—Olleack and Nashella might be more willing to listen to me while Leoth was away, and if my holden monarchs spoke to those who supported me, perhaps they would come to see my perspective. I had excluded Dennoric from the guest list, though. Holden monarch or not, I couldn’t stand him.

  We would have elaborate sugar palaces, fifty different types of delicate pastries, teas and hot chocolates flavored with exotic spices from around the world, and soothing music by a group of harpists.

  When a messenger sought me out in my study with word that results had come back, I thought at first he referred to the number of guests who had accepted my invitation to the second gathering.

  “How many?” I asked, my mind still on the details of the King’s Port deal I had been working on.

  “Excuse me, Your Majesty?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The results of the investigation.”

  I felt as though I had swallowed glacial melt. I had nearly forgotten about it. “And?”

  “After some testing, our team has agreed the most recent murder was in fact the work of a Flamespinner.”

  The air went out of my lungs. “Oh. I see,” I said weakly. “Are there suspects?”

  “Prince Calden Aldsvell has, of course, been mentioned as a possible suspect. However, the murder took place in a shop well away from the town center, so most of the team agrees he is an unlikely culprit. We are currently investigating Flamespinners who live nearby.”

  “I see.” I took a deep breath—all was not lost. Cal was not going on trial yet. “Thank you for bringing word to me. Please keep me updated with all further progress.”

  “Of course, Your Majesty.”

  “And don’t share what you’ve learned with anyone else until we know more.”

  When the messenger left, I slumped back in my seat and dug my fingers into my hair. This was bad. Were there really Flamespinners out there murdering those who opposed me? Did they seek to frame me, or were they trying to help?

  And had the first murder been the work of a supporter of mine as well?

  This was a mess.

  * * *

  I didn’t see Cal until the day of the first gathering. Less than an hour before we headed to the historic wing sitting room, Baridya let him into my chambers while she and Deance were finishing the last touches on my hair and makeup. Cal flushed and averted his gaze, though I was perfectly decent. I noticed he was not dressed for the occasion—he wore only a simple shirt and leggings, his hair mussed.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “My mother’s trying to keep me away from you. She’s filled up my whole day with lessons and duties I’m pretty sure she’s made up, and the guards outside my room won’t let me out. I just managed to escape while she was in the bath.”

  Baridya clicked her tongue. “What is she playing at now?”

  “It’s that investigation. She thinks the whole family’s reputation is going to be ruined now people know a Flamespinner’s going around killing people for you.”

  “Wait a moment. I thought the results of the investigation wouldn’t be shared until they had a better idea of suspects.” I turned to frown at Cal, and Deance sighed as my hair slipped from her hands.

  “Didn’t you see the Palace Times yesterday?” he asked.

  “No.” I had been so busy preparing for the gathering I hadn’t even thought about the newspapers. “What did it say?”

  “Oh, all sorts of awful stuff. Most of it was just guessing, but people are going to be scared. They said maybe you’re secretly building up an army of Makhori, and that you’ve got some way of communicating with your followers all over Baylore, so you can get them to work together against regular people.”

  “Is that the term they used?” Baridya asked. “Makhori?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Because that’s another Whitish thing. We haven’t called the magic races Makhori for hundreds of years now, not until those Truthbringers showed up.”

  Cal frowned. We hadn’t mentioned our suspicions about the Truthbringers to him yet, and I wasn’t sure I wanted others to know we were digging deeper. If the Truthbringers got wind of our suspicions, they would take extra care to eliminate all traces of their ties to Whitland.

  “Are they still pointing blame at you?” I asked to distract him. “If they think I’m building an army in secret, that might turn their attention away from you.”

  Cal shook his head. “They’re saying I’m in charge of the Flamespinners. You should read the article—it’s bad.”

  “Not right now. We have only an hour before I’m supposed to meet with my supporters and convince them to stay firm in their loyalty. If that newspaper’s lies are eating at me, I won’t be able to face it.”

  “I suppose.” Cal sank onto a stool near my dressing table, no longer looking embarrassed. When I turned back to the mirror, Deance finished securing the pearl-studded net in place over my hair. I wore no crown—I wanted my friends and supporters to feel like equals, not subjects.

  “I don’t want to go back to the Ruunan wing,” Cal mumbled at last. “I’m not doing anything useful there. Can I stay here so I can help you?”

  I sighed. “I don’t know if that’s a wise
choice. Your mother might follow through with her threat to disinherit you, and I don’t want that. We need people like you on the throne.”

  “Yeah, but that’s thirty years from now. If the Truthbringers keep making a mess of things, are we even going to have a kingdom to rule in thirty years?”

  I had no response to this.

  “You could always make him your heir,” Baridya said slyly. “Isn’t Holden Queen Ellarie your mother’s cousin or something?”

  That was true. I wasn’t ever likely to marry or bear an heir—my power would probably kill any unborn child of mine in the womb—and since Cal was a blood relative, he should not face the same level of opposition I had when making my claim to the throne.

  I watched Cal’s reflection in the mirror. “You have a choice to make, Cal. Will you throw your lot in with me, and bear the same burden of hatred and prejudice I have faced, or will you step back and remain safely under your mother’s protection until we loosen the Truthbringers’ hold on Baylore?” I paused. “I would gladly name you my heir, but I make no promises. I cannot see myself lasting thirty years here.”

  “I don’t want to be king,” Cal said. “And I’ve seen what it’s like having everyone turn on me. I don’t care what happens. I’ll stand by you.”

  11

  Political Games

  C al tidied up as best he could, and then we set off for the historic wing sitting room. I led the procession, Cal, Baridya, Deance, and Mother by my side, and we were joined by nearly a dozen others. Mother had invited those relatives she deemed most likely to listen to me—I had added crooked-nosed Jassor to that list, remembering how decent he had been when we spoke in the past—and of course Olleack and Nashella were among the guests. We were flanked by a virtual army of guards and servers bringing the delicacies our kitchen had prepared. I hoped the guards would not put my guests on edge.

  My stomach was knotted both with worry and with guilt for driving a wedge between Cal and his mother. She would learn of his decision at the gathering—I did not think she would take it well.