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

by R. J. Vickers

  As I stood, hands shaking, so cornered I felt close to collapse, I finally thought of an answer.

  Mellicante. The clever merchant who was willing to take on unscrupulous deals, to do anything necessary for a profit. She was the sort of person I needed by my side right now.

  17

  An Unwilling Accomplice

  I met Quendon in the servants’ cellars, my hair plaited into a simple braid, all jewelry gone. At my orders, he had procured a guard’s uniform for me, and I ducked into a storage room to change. My fingers were still shaking as I undid the buttons running down the side of my dress, but when I had studied myself in the mirror before I left my chambers, my guilt was not visible on my face. I had sent my ladies-in-waiting out to buy new slippers and asked Cal to research an obscure law regarding the forbidden races—I wanted them out of the way, where they would not notice my absence.

  My breathing came easier once I loosened the stays on my bodice and let the gown fall away. As long as I wore the guard’s uniform, with its stiff creases and coarse fabric, I could pretend to be someone else. Someone who had never seen what lay in the western tower.

  Finally, I stuffed my braid beneath the guard’s hat. There were not many women in the city guard, so I did not want to attract unwanted attention.

  When I pushed open the storage room door, I straightened and nodded at Quendon.

  “I don’t mean to pry, Your Majesty, but do you expect us to be in danger?”

  “I hope not. But we’re going into the city, so I can’t say.”

  “Ah.” Quendon held out a belt, which I strapped around my waist. He then passed me a sheathed sword, which I clipped to the belt. Last of all, he handed me a thin dagger attached to a strange set of leather buckles. “This one goes around your wrist, Your Majesty. If you are able, I would recommend wearing this on your person from now on. One can never take too many precautions.”

  Rolling up the sleeve of the city guard uniform, I buckled on the dagger and tightened the straps until it remained in place. When I made a fist, I could feel the comforting press of leather like a hand trapping my wrist. Though I had not wished for a weapon before now, I found its presence comforting.

  “If anything goes wrong, you can shout ‘Mercy,’ and the city guards will recognize you and escort you to safety. They have a strong presence in the city at the moment.”

  “I can’t thank you enough,” I said humbly. More and more, I was asking my supporters to endanger themselves on my behalf. It twisted my stomach, but I could see no way around it.

  Quendon gave me a tight smile. “And where are we heading today, Your Majesty?”

  “To the residence of a merchant I spoke to some quarters back.”

  * * *

  The gate guard gave me a strange look as we passed into the city, his beard quivering, but he did not question us. We followed a winding street around the back of Baylore University and into the Gilded Quarter. Stately manors dominated this part of town, some of stone, some of wood, each encircled by its own garden. As we turned left past the University wall, the streets began to rise toward a hill, the manors here built on multiple step-like levels. Trees grew from gardens and along the street, some wreathed in white and pink flowers, others budding with pale green leaves. The top of the hill seemed to be a miniature forest; I could not tell whether any houses nestled amongst the trees.

  “Here we are.” Quendon stopped before a smaller manor of stone, built on two stories stacked up the hillside. Tall windows dominated the top story, looking out over the city wall toward the east, while the bottom story was carved of solid black stone, its small windows muffled by curtains.

  I paused outside the gate for several minutes, trying to take it all in, surprised Mellicante lived in such luxury. Eventually a curtain covering one of the long, narrow windows beside the door twitched, and I realized someone had noticed our arrival.

  Quendon opened the gate and stood back while I slipped hesitantly into the garden. I debated removing my hat so Mellicante would recognize me, but the manors nearby had far too many windows. I had no idea who might be watching.

  When I knocked, it was Mellicante herself who answered the door, rather than a servant.

  “Your Majesty.” She did not sound altogether pleased to see me. “To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”

  She had recognized me at once. “Perhaps it would be best if we speak in private,” I said softly. “Quendon, would you be so kind as to return later?” He would fetch additional guards while I spoke with the merchant.

  He bowed and retreated, while Mellicante led me grudgingly up the stairs to her sitting room, which was bright with sunlight from the expansive windows. The inside of her house was sparse and uncluttered, though every piece of furniture was finely crafted, some from exotic wood of deep red or black, others from polished stone with unusual patterns.

  “No servants?” I asked. For its size, the place felt oddly empty.

  “I find them tiresome. Besides, I keep two separate residences, and it is too much of a hassle to transport a full set of staff between each.” Mellicante took a seat before I did, defying protocol, though I could hardly fault her; I was certainly not setting a good example by visiting her in secret, disguised as a guard.

  I sat across from her, crossing my legs—I felt oddly exposed without skirts, though of course I had spent much of my youth running about in leggings.

  “I have a feeling I won’t like whatever you are about to ask, Your Majesty,” Mellicante said. “Go on, get it out.”

  I swallowed. “Have you considered my offer of a position as my advisor?”

  “As I said before, Your Majesty, you know nothing about me.”

  “I know you have worked with smugglers and transported illegal goods. I know you sometimes make unscrupulous deals in the pursuit of profit. But I also know you have never harmed the magic races in your trades.”

  Mellicante’s expression had darkened as I spoke. “How did you learn this?”

  “I have many connections, Lady Mellicante. It is one of the few benefits of ruling this city.”

  She grimaced. “Well, even so, I am busy enough without taking on additional responsibilities.”

  I leaned forward, one elbow on my knee. “It’s not just that. I need help with something. A delicate matter. I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

  Mellicante’s gaze sharpened. With her curved nose and brown skin, she gave the distinct impression of a falcon surveying its prey.

  “I cannot risk letting this secret slip, so I am…inviting you to stay in the palace for the present, with as many comforts as you require. And I will pay double your usual per-span profits as long as you stay.”

  “Your guard is currently fetching backup, I presume.”

  I nodded.

  “I don’t have much choice in the matter, do I?”

  “No,” I said shortly. “However, I would appreciate your cooperation.”

  A stamping of boots outside signaled the return of Quendon with backup, which meant I was safe to speak freely.

  “That depends on what you ask of me, Your Majesty.” There was an ironic tilt to the way she said my title.

  “Fair enough.” I lowered my voice. “The problem is, we have a traitor in the palace who has been murdering residents and trying to pass it off as my doing. Just like the murderer—or murderers—in the city.”

  “You must be a very busy woman,” Mellicante said drily. I took that to mean she did not suspect me.

  “Indeed. Anyway, the most recent murder has been orchestrated in a way that immediately points to me. It was the work of an Extractor I granted sanctuary to, so in a way, I was responsible. That fact alone would lose me my throne if it were discovered. Word of this newest murder has not gotten out, so I need to dispose of the body in a way it will never be found.”

  “And you think I am the sort of disreputable person who would know such a thing.” Her mouth twisting, Mellicante stood and paced to the window, wrenc
hing the curtain halfway across the view.

  I leapt to my feet. “Not at all. I merely thought you were a woman with much knowledge of the world. People like you are hard to find in the palace. I hoped you might have heard whispers in your travels, or know an acquaintance who might help…”

  As I stood there, watching Mellicante’s back, I felt more foolish by the minute. She was right—I didn’t know her at all. It was terrible of me to drag her into my service for such a crude purpose. And on top of that, she might have lied about her lack of servants; maybe someone waited just behind the door, listening to every word I said. But I could think of no better option.

  Nearly five minutes passed before she turned slowly to me, her black eyes cold and her mouth tight. “You ask too much of me, Your Majesty.” This time, there was definitely scorn in the way she said my title. “This is likely to be the end of my career, the end of everything I have dedicated my life to building. However, you give me no choice.” She walked rigidly back to her chair and sank into it, while I remained standing, feeling out-of-place. “I do know a way to dispose of this body, and I will accept your offer to live in that Varse-damned palace. You may leave now, and I will join you in an hour’s time—accompanied by your generous escort of guards, of course. I need time to make arrangements.”

  I bowed low. “Thank you, Mellicante.” I did not feel like a queen in that moment. “I hope you can forgive me someday.”

  18

  Lye and Ash

  I did not speak to Quendon on the walk back to the palace. We left ten guards waiting outside Mellicante’s door; I hoped she did not have a rear exit to escape through.

  I need not have feared, though. Right on schedule, she arrived in the Cheltish wing, surrounded by guards who were carrying several chests full of her belongings.

  “Welcome to the Cheltish wing,” I said with a tight smile. I had changed out of my guard’s uniform into a gown, and done my best to fix my hair into a proper updo without my ladies-in-waiting to help. “Please follow me. I led her down the stairs to the lower level, the guards trailing after us.

  Quendon and I had arranged one of the largest guestrooms for Mellicante’s use, installing a desk and leather chair in one corner so she could continue her work from the privacy of her quarters.

  “This will do,” she said when she saw the room. “Leave everything along that wall. I’ll sort through it later.” Then, as if she were the queen instead of I, she waved dismissively at my guards. “Go on. I’ll summon you if I need you.”

  Once we were alone, Mellicante turned to me. “Well? Are you ready?”

  “What have you planned?”

  Mellicante handed me a leather pouch about twice the size of her head.

  “What is this?”

  “I’ll explain later, Your Majesty. Do you have a large pot or metal washbasin that we could light a fire underneath?”

  There had to be several enormous cooking pots in the kitchen, but there was no way to borrow them without attracting suspicion. Then I remembered—unless someone had moved it, there was a metal washbasin in the bathroom below the spiral staircase, the same one I had used when I lived in the western tower. “Yes. I have something that should work.”

  “Are you ready, then?”

  “Now?” I yelped. I had hoped to wait until nightfall.

  Mellicante pursed her lips at me. “I thought this was urgent. I thought each hour that passed increased the chances of someone stumbling across the body.”

  She was right. “I suppose. We just need to make sure no one sees us going into or out of that tower.”

  “That’s easy enough. If I am to serve as your advisor, I will need a briefing on my duties. We can sit in that common room upstairs and discuss matters such as my salary and my privileges until the room clears out.”

  * * *

  It did not take long before we had the common room to ourselves. Mother, Cal, and my ladies-in-waiting were all away, and the rest of the Cheltish wing residents had a habit of abandoning any room soon after I entered. When the last noblewoman collected her embroidery and followed her companion downstairs in a swish of skirts, Mellicante and I looked at one another. She nodded, and we collected everything in a hurry—the papers where we had been halfheartedly scrawling terms of Mellicante’s employ and the leather pouch that felt as though it was filled with sand. I ducked into my old bathroom at the foot of the tower to fetch the metal washbasin, and we filled it halfway with cold water from the tap; it was heavier than I had expected, so Mellicante had to help carry it.

  Once we stumbled into the stairwell and closed the door, the space was plunged into darkness. Mellicante took the lead, pulling up her end of the washbasin, and I followed clumsily, unable to see where I was stepping. The large tub did not fit easily between the wall and the railing, and when it clanged against the stone, I flinched. A tongue of water sloshed out, dousing my sleeve.

  At last we reached the door. I passed the key to Mellicante, and she fumbled for a moment, the key scraping against metal, before flooding the stairwell with light. We nearly fell into my old bedchamber. Setting down the washbasin with a sigh, I locked the door and rattled the handle. Even with Mellicante blocking my view of the room, Misha’s body still dominated the space.

  “So,” Mellicante said. Even she looked uncomfortable now that she was confronted with the truth of what we had to do.

  I folded my arms across my stomach. “What are you planning, then?”

  She cleared her throat delicately. “A body can be dissolved in a boiling solution of lye, Your Majesty. It takes several hours.”

  I nearly gagged at the idea. “I’m guessing this is the lye?” I held up the leather pouch I had been carrying. “How did you get this? Will anyone ask questions?”

  Mellicante frowned at me. “It’s a common household cleaning agent, and one of the main ingredients of soap. Are you that sheltered?”

  My face felt hot. “We cleaned with sand for scouring and vinegar for disinfecting in Ambervale.”

  Mellicante’s frown eased slightly. “I forgot you were raised simply, Your Majesty. Forgive me.” She turned to study the body, hands clasped behind her back. “Are you sure you want to go ahead with this, Your Majesty? It changes a person, dirty business like this.”

  “Have you faced something similar before?”

  Mellicante nodded tersely. “I would not wish it on anyone. And I believe you. It would be political suicide to kill multiple members of the palace staff.”

  “Thank you,” I said weakly. I was surprised by how much her support meant to me; I felt as though I were drowning in the spiraling repercussions of Misha’s death. “If you can believe it, I had never laid eyes on this poor woman until I found her body this morning.”

  “I’m hardly surprised. And you wonder why I don’t want a household full of servants.”

  I nodded. We were stalling—neither of us wanted to contemplate the task that lay ahead. But as I thought this, Misha’s still face drew my eyes, and I could not look away. I had almost expected to return to a room reeking of decay. Instead, the nursemaid could have been asleep.

  Thankfully, Mellicante took charge. She shoved the full washbasin onto the hearth and scooped water into a bucket I had once used to wash my face in the mornings.

  “You stir. And if the lye splatters, douse your hand or whatever it touches in that bucket.” She handed me a fire poker for stirring and untied the drawstrings around the satchel of lye.

  “Are you going to light the fire?”

  “Not yet.”

  Stepping onto the hearth, Mellicante began pouring the lye into the washbasin in a thin stream of white granules. I stirred, watching swirls of cloudy white sink from the surface before dissolving. Though the fire was not lit, heat seemed to radiate off the surface of the water, and sweat itched its way down my neck. I kept stirring, using gentle strokes so as not to splash, until so much heat rose from the water it felt as though I stood above a boiling pot of stew.
/>   “We haven’t even lit the fire yet,” I said. “What’s happening?”

  “The lye heats the water. There—that’s the last of it.” Mellicante set aside the leather bag and stepped away, wiping her forehead on her sleeve. Her cheeks were flushed, her whole face glistening with perspiration. “We can move the body now, and then we’ll light the fire.”

  Sweat was now soaking the back of my gown, whether from fear or from the rising heat, I could not tell. At least Mellicante had not lost her composure.

  We knelt beside Misha, and I looped my hands beneath her knees, cringing at the feel of her lifeless flesh. She was stiff in death, frozen in the position she had fallen in. What would her family think? She would disappear without a trace; there would be no body to send up in flames. Her newborn child would never know its mother.

  I blinked fiercely, looking down to avoid Mellicante’s searching gaze, and stood with a grunt. The woman’s body was heavier than I had expected, and I could feel the seams of my gown straining as we hauled her toward the fireplace.

  I lowered her feet carefully into the water, and Mellicante leaned the woman’s top half against the side of the fireplace. Her skirts pooled around her, shifting and sinking as they took on water. With a sharp breath, Mellicante stepped back and fetched fire-twists and matches to start the fire. We piled several fire-twists on either side of the washbasin; one enchanted twist would burn for quarters, spilling enough heat to warm a large house, but I did not want to take any chances.

  As the flames caught and licked at the sides of the basin, Misha’s body sank deeper, her hair spilling from its knot. A thin trail of smoke rose from the twin fires.

  There was nothing to do but wait.

  For a long time, neither of us spoke. We pulled up chairs beside one of the windows and threw open the shutters, looking out over the city. The cold breeze was a welcome balm after the rising heat from the fire. The sweat on my neck cooled at once, the wind whisking it away.