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

by R. J. Vickers

  “I agree.” I swallowed—there was no further reason to postpone what I had come here to do. “Your Majesties, I think we can all agree that the recent unrest has become a problem. And it did not begin with my coronation. For over a decade now, tensions between magic and non-magic citizens have been increasing. This is not my doing, but rather the work of the Truthbringers. Did you notice which shops were set on fire during the riots, their windows smashed?”

  Ellarie twisted her hands together in her laps, mouth puckering as though she had bit into a lemon.

  “They were Weavers’ shops. Potioneers’ shops. Metalsmiths’ forges. This was not a random outbreak of violence. It was an attack on the magic races all around Baylore. And this wasn’t the first instance of violence, either. This sort of thing has been happening quietly for years now. Ever since the Truthbringers arrived.”

  “That’s absurd,” Dennoric snapped.

  I glared at him. I would never win him to my side, but I had to argue for the sake of convincing the others. “How can you pretend they’re unrelated? The Truthbringers are preaching violence against the magic races. Now that we are dealing with exactly that, how can we continue to ignore their influence in Baylore? They need to be stopped.”

  “I thought we were discussing the murders,” Ellarie said tightly. “The bodies didn’t belong to Makhori.”

  “I would not be surprised if the Truthbringers are behind the murders as well. It is all connected. In their outrage against the murders, the townspeople felt justified in attacking Makhori outright.”

  “But the deaths all looked like the work of Flamespinners or Extractors,” Dennoric said. “That last investigation agreed on that point. The Truthbringers would never work with Makhori. It would be blasphemous.”

  “How many Extractors do you think live in Baylore?” I asked flatly. “People like me are usually killed at birth, and if not, the forbidden races are branded so the gate guards can turn them away. According to the investigation, seven bodies look like the work of Extractors. They are scattered throughout the city. Do you really think there are seven Extractors living undetected, all somehow working in coordination to kill random people with no connection to me or the Truthbringers? Bearing in mind that we need to be around our victims for two hours to cause harm. Or is it more likely someone put a pillow over the victims’ heads and smothered them? There is more than one way to kill someone without leaving a mark. That would be more easily achieved without magic than with.”

  “Are you saying you have experience with that?” Dennoric asked with a sneer.

  I ignored him. The others looked thoughtful—they knew I had made a valid point. They might not have been aware my powers took two hours to kill.

  “What law are you proposing today, Your Majesty?” Pollard asked.

  “We must take decisive action to keep our people safe. I propose that we ban Truthbringers from Baylore.”

  “You can’t do that,” Dennoric snapped. “You have no proof they were involved.”

  “They’ll never stand for it, Your Majesty,” Ellarie said.

  “Our guards can force them out. It doesn’t matter if the townspeople agree with the ruling.”

  “Decisive, indeed,” Pollard said, crossing his arms. “However, Dennoric is right. Without proof, you cannot expel an entire set of people from Baylore. It would set a bad precedent. Whoever takes the throne after you might do the same for the magic races.”

  “Yes, but the magic races have been here for centuries! The Truthbringers only arrived recently, and ever since they came, we have had nothing but turmoil in Baylore.”

  “I believe the turmoil started with your coronation,” Dennoric said smugly. “There were no murders before then. No riots.”

  “You do make a valid point,” Pollard said. “But I fear I cannot endorse this. Until you have evidence of the Truthbringers’ involvement, you cannot turn against them without reason.”

  “I have plenty of reasons,” I said in a low voice. “Is inciting violence not enough? Is encouraging people to turn on their neighbors not enough? Is trying to undermine our government not enough?”

  “How much of this do you know, and how much is guesswork?”

  “Have you not heard them making speeches from the main square, denouncing the magic races as demons and urging people to turn against us? And what about the threats we received just before the palace vote? Whoever sent them indicated they had armies at their command, ready to take Baylore by force.”

  “We have yet to see any trace of these armies,” Pollard said. “The threats may have been a fabrication meant to weaken your support base.”

  I doubted that, but once again, I had no proof to the contrary. I had lost this vote.

  “What about you, Holden King Morrisse?” I asked, taking one last stab. He had yet to speak. “Do you think my proposal has merit?”

  Morrisse leaned his chin on his knuckles. “I agree with Pollard, Your Majesty.”

  I let out a breath through my teeth. “I see.”

  “Are you ready to hold the vote?” the Lord Chancellor asked. He looked troubled.

  “Yes,” I said brusquely.

  “Anyone who does not endorse Queen Kalleah’s proposal, please raise your hand.”

  All four hands rose immediately. I had not even passed around my drafted proposal, but there was no point.

  “The law has been declined. Do you have any further proposals, Your Majesty?”

  I did not.

  Before the Lord Chancellor dismissed us, I could not restrain myself from saying, “Is this all you’re capable of? Inaction and blame? When this city starts crumbling around us, I hope you realize I did everything I could to keep us safe, while you were content to do nothing.”

  Then, before the others could reply, I stood and swept into the hallway.

  When the holden monarchs followed a moment later, I fell into step beside Pollard and asked, “Is there anything I could do to convince you to support this ban?”

  “I need proof, Your Majesty. Indisputable evidence the Truthbringers have been directly harming our populace. I will not turn against them on hearsay.”

  “Of course.” I slowed and let Pollard draw ahead. It was hopeless. The Truthbringers were careful—they worked through accomplices, never dirtying their own hands. Even now, we had no idea who had been behind the assassination attempt at the Harvest Ball, though I was certain it was the work of the Truthbringers.

  Morrisse tried to pass me, and I quickened my pace to match his, though he pretended not to see me.

  “What are your thoughts on this matter, Morrisse?” I asked. “You have been very quiet about your opinions.”

  “I already indicated where I stood on this matter,” he said stiffly. Then he lengthened his stride further still, until I could not keep up with him without running.

  “What are you doing trying to accost us outside the chamber of law?” Ellarie said from behind.

  I slowed and turned to her, folding my arms over my chest and straightening. I was nearly a hand’s breadth taller than her, so I could use my height to assert my authority. “Do you have a problem with that?” I asked sweetly. “It’s exactly what the rest of you have done, isn’t it? Scheming behind my back, making arrangements without me.”

  “You are paranoid,” Ellarie said. “You accuse us without proof, just as you accuse the Truthbringers.”

  “The same Truthbringers who have been so accepting of your son? The Truthbringers who would never think of turning against Flamespinners? Yes, of course my accusations are baseless. They would never think of harming your son.”

  “I have no son. You have stolen him from me.”

  Ellarie brushed past me and stalked away, leaving me standing alone in the hallway as the click of her footsteps faded.

  * * *

  Back in my chambers, I dropped my crown on my dressing table with a clunk. What was the point of it? No one respected my authority, crown or no crown. I might as well put a
dog on the throne in my place.

  Mother had expected the holden monarchs to vote based on their actual politics, since their decisions would be publicized when my throne came up for election. But so far, they had done no such thing. It seemed they were convinced I would lose my throne before long, and any sign they had supported me or spoken to me in private could stain their reputations.

  I was inclined to agree.

  At least the situation in the city seemed to be under control. If no further bodies cropped up in the coming spans, maybe the unrest would calm down. People would realize I was protecting them, and maybe my holden monarchs would be willing to listen to me. I snorted. That was as likely as silver raining from the sky.

  More likely, tensions would continue to simmer just beneath the surface, but violence would not erupt as long as we maintained a heavy armed presence in the city. It was the best I could hope for.

  I just had to make sure the murders really had stopped.

  There were very few guards around now I had sent them into the streets, so the Cheltish wing seemed oddly silent and empty as I ventured downstairs. Mother was likely in the queen’s study, trying to work out the details of the merchants’ deal Lady Mellicante had proposed, and soft laughter drifted through the door of the sitting-room, where most of the courtiers in our wing were likely hiding from me.

  No one was watching as I turned down the hallway toward the room where the two Extractors remained under guard.

  When I approached, the two guards at their door straightened and saluted.

  “Any changes?” I asked. “Have either of the men tried to leave?”

  “No, Your Majesty.”

  I pushed open the door to see Ornan and Wistin sitting cross-legged on the floor, playing cards. The sight sent chills down my neck—the body in the palace had been found slumped over a game of cards. Surely it didn’t mean anything. Surely.

  Both men scrambled to their feet when they saw me, and I closed the door with a soft click.

  “How are you?” I asked. “Keeping busy?”

  “Keeping sane, anyway,” Ornan said, running a hand through his curly black hair. He still wore his guard uniform in the Reycoran colors, though it was rumpled.

  “I’m very sorry about this. It’s more for your protection than anything—I would hate for people to learn about you and immediately assume you were guilty.”

  Ornan nodded. “I know, Your Majesty.”

  “I just wish this room had a window,” Wistin said, his smile lopsided. “I feel like a caged wolf in this place.”

  “If you want to leave, we can try to grant you safe passage to the city gates.”

  “No, no, it’s fine. I shouldn’t complain about this. I’m safe, and that’s all that really matters.”

  “Of course.”

  “Your Majesty, can we tempt you with a game of cards?” Wistin’s cheeks dimpled as his grin widened.

  “It is tempting, but I’m busy. I would be missed.”

  “Ah, yes. The burdens of ruling a country.”

  I nodded. “Well, send for me if you need anything. I don’t want you to suffer.”

  “We will, Your Majesty,” Ornan said. “Thank you.”

  I let myself out of their room, more troubled than before. Both men seemed friendly and harmless, but that game of cards…

  Instead of returning to my suite, I went in search of Cal. He was not in his bedroom or in the sitting-room, and I finally found him throwing darts at a wood target in a room I had never seen into before. To my astonishment, Baridya and Deance were doing the same. Baridya’s cheeks were flushed, while Deance studied the target with eyes narrowed. When she released her dart, it hit the exact center of the target with a thwack.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  All three whirled.

  “Sorry, Your Majesty,” Baridya said, collapsing against Deance in a fit of giggles. “It was this or embroidery, and I think I’ll go mad if one more person tells me my roses look like intestines.”

  Deance laughed at this as well. She set her handful of darts aside and curtseyed. “Did you need us for something, Your Majesty?”

  “I actually wanted to speak to Cal.”

  His eyebrows flew up. Shrugging at my ladies-in-waiting, he slouched from the room after me.

  “You’re not mad at me, are you?” he muttered.

  “What? No! Of course not.” I was glad to see him enjoying himself after what his mother had said this morning. I have no son. Her words weighed heavily on me.

  “Then what is it?”

  “Are you friends with any of the servants in the Cheltish wing?”

  “I was. I haven’t talked to them in ages, though.”

  “Hmm.” I pressed my lips together. “How much do you trust them?”

  “Enough.”

  “Can you ask a few servants—children, if possible—to watch a room at the end of this corridor? I have two guards stationed at the door, but I don’t know if I can trust them. I need to hear immediately if anyone enters or leaves that room. And I need the servants to be discreet about it. Pretend they’re polishing the light fixtures or something.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure they’d do it.”

  “Excellent. Thank you, Cal.” I tried to ignore the way my stomach twisted with guilt. My friends were risking so much for me already, and I kept asking more of them. If they turned on me in the end, I wouldn’t blame them.

  15

  The Palace Garden

  “I ’d say Morrisse is your weakest link,” Baridya said. I was strolling through the historic wing with my ladies-in-waiting, trying to brainstorm how to persuade my holden monarchs to vote for my ban. Mother wanted me to stay in the Cheltish wing, since our guard force was too depleted to ensure my safety, but I was fairly certain the Truthbringers would prefer to see me destroyed politically than to assassinate me outright. If they were in fact Whitish, they were likely trying to undermine our government as a whole—and what better way to achieve that than to keep an unpopular monarch at its head?

  “Morrisse won’t even talk to me,” I said. “I tried.”

  “You tried once,” Deance said. “Look, why don’t we pay a visit to his wing right now? He might not be able to resist if three beautiful ladies cross his path all at once.”

  “I don’t think he’s that stupid,” I said. “But we may as well try.”

  Linking elbows, we headed toward the Forest wing, where a carved wooden archway marked the entrance. Two guards stood outside the entrance, dressed in the Vellmont family colors of dark green with gold trimmings.

  “We would like to speak with Holden King Morrisse, if he is available,” I said.

  “No disrespect meant, Your Majesty, but he doesn’t want to see you. He thought you’d come, see.”

  I pursed my lips.

  “Oh, it’s nothing to do with politics,” Baridya said, curtseying and fluttering her eyelashes at the guard. “We just hoped to invite him to tea.”

  “Hmph.” The guards looked at each other. “Well, I suppose I can pass the word along. No harm in that.”

  One of the guards stumped down the hallway to the Forest wing while the other regarded us, hand on the hilt of his sword.

  To my surprise, Morrisse emerged a few minutes later, looking disgruntled. His doublet was far more fashionable than the coat he usually wore to the Ilkayumsday vote, with puffed shoulders slashed to reveal a bright red lining, a matching silk scarf tied at his throat.

  “What is it, Your Majesty?” he asked gruffly.

  I gave him my best coquettish smile. “Sorry to bother you. Ever since the recent gathering, my ladies-in-waiting have not stopped speaking of you, and they persuaded me to ask you to tea.”

  Morrisse looked at Baridya, who smiled at him from beneath lowered lashes, and some of his annoyance seemed to melt away. “Well, I don’t think I can do that right now, Your Majesty. People would talk. But I’m honored. Lady Baridya, was it?”

  “You remembered!” Baridya e
xtended a hand to Morrisse, and he kissed it.

  “What is your opinion of art and music?” Morrisse asked.

  “I think it’s the greatest thing our civilization has created,” Baridya said. “I’m from Larkhaven, Your Majesty, and art was one of the reasons I was drawn to Baylore—the capital is far more refined in its tastes than Larkhaven.”

  Morrisse grunted. “I used to invite a few select guests for an evening of wine, music, and art. I may consider reinstating the tradition.”

  “Why did you stop?” Baridya asked, moving subtly closer to Morrisse.

  “Certain people believed it was not a suitable pastime for a monarch.”

  “Oh, but I think it’s such a sophisticated pastime!”

  “Well, if I decide to hold another gathering, I’ll be sure to invite you, Lady Baridya. Good day.”

  He turned and strode back into the Forest wing, smoothing his mat of curls as he went.

  The guard at the door was regarding us with amusement. Baridya turned away from him, her face breaking into a grin, and we hurried away.

  “See?” she whispered once we rounded the corner. “That was easy.”

  “For you, perhaps. He did seem quite taken with you. I eyed her sideways. “You’re not going to fall for him, are you?”

  Baridya snorted. “He is not the least bit my type. Don’t worry. I have no interest whatsoever in that man.”

  “Do you think you can learn more about him, then?” I asked. “I need to know where I might run across him outside the Forest wing, and what his interests are.”

  “You just need to practice your flirtatious glances,” Baridya said. “He’s an easy catch.” She demonstrated, eyes wide as she blinked at me from beneath her dark lashes.

  “Maybe for you,” Deance said. “Some of us don’t come across flirtation so naturally.”

  “It’s all about practice. You’ve already got the looks for it, Kalleah, you just need to come across as less…”

  “Prickly?” Deance suggested.

  “That’s it.”

  * * *

  Another quarter passed; Baridya never did receive an invitation to the gathering Morrisse had described, but she managed to track down several of his former mistresses and learn more about him. From what they divulged, he was an artist and musician himself, as well as a keen gardener, and vastly preferred these pursuits over politics. Maybe that was the reason for his silence at the Ilkayumsday vote each quarter—he simply did not have enough of an opinion to contribute to the discussion.