Death's Queen (The Complete Series)

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Death's Queen (The Complete Series) Page 6

by Janeal Falor


  I move to my sitting room, where Jem and another lady in waiting are sitting. They stand as I enter.

  “Your Majesty.” Jem curtsies. “We are here to teach you proper etiquette.”

  Joy. “Who is this with you?”

  “Inyi, Your Highness,” Jem replies.

  There's a beauty to Inyi. Glowing skin. Golden brown hair and eyes. She looks as if the sun kissed her at birth.

  “If you will follow us,” Jem says.

  They lead me out the door, and several bodyguards follow. I hate having them behind me, even if I can handle them. They could attack at any moment.

  We wind through corridors that I know from the maps. When we come to a small room with a few chairs and a low table, we stop.

  One of the guards goes in first, checking to make certain there’s no one hiding. Once he gives the all clear and takes up residence outside the doorway, I trudge in. Though it's small, like I first thought, it's still bigger than my old bedroom. The typical landscape pictures hang on the cream-colored walls. The chairs are a dark-brown wood, wide but hard.

  I remain standing, not wanting to sit in a hard chair, and they do the same. It’s not that I can’t handle a hard chair, it’s that after everything I’ve been through, if I can avoid one, I will. “What about proper etiquette?” I ask.

  “First off, you should sit, in consideration of us. We can't take a chair until you do,” Jem says.

  Not happening. These things are too uncomfortable. But if comfort is not a concern for them, who am I to stop them? “Sit.”

  “Your Majesty,” Inyi says, “we couldn't possibly do so without you first taking a seat.”

  “Sit.” My order rings out.

  The girls settle down in two chairs against the wall, away from the window. Jem's lips thin. She's miffed. Too bad for her. Inyi is wide eyed, like she's stunned by my words.

  “What else?”

  “Your Majesty, a queen shows concern for those around her,” Jem says. “She thinks of others.”

  “Why should I think of others, when they've never thought of me?” It's rude but true.

  “Because you are their leader now,” Inyi says. “Your thoughts should always be about them first.”

  Her words stir me. Not that I'd admit it. The queen has always been self-centered, even if she shows some outward caring like sitting for others to rest. “Moving on.”

  Jem opens her mouth like she's going to say more on the matter, but Inyi stops her with an elbow to the side. Jem glares at her but covers the expression.

  “You must learn how to enter a room,” Jem says. “When entering a room, the queen must first look to the right and then the left.”

  I snort. “Why?”

  “Because”—she huffs—“Your Majesty, the higher the ranking official, the more to the right side of the room they are. They get closer to you the higher up they go. It's an honor and a privilege to have the right side directly next to the queen.”

  Layers of meaning that matter little to me. Those who are thought to be the highest ranking might be the biggest scum. “Give me something else.”

  Jem pulls her chin upward, making it wrinkle her chin. I'm getting to her. “You mustn’t touch the back of a chair, even when sitting in it,” she says.

  This has to be a joke. The chairs are already torture devices, there's no sense in making them worse. “Why?”

  She sputters.

  Inyi says, “It isn't done. You need to appear regal and strong, no matter the circumstance. Sitting up tall and not relying on anything, even the back of a chair, proves this.”

  “It proves little.” Except that one can sit in horrid situations for a long time. What's the point of that?

  Inyi clears her throat. “Yes, well… Why don't you give it a try?”

  “Are these the things you were learning to do before taking the Mortum Tura?”

  “These are the basics,” Jem says. “We learned so much more over the years. Take me, for example. I've been studying to be queen since I was eight.”

  And I've been training to kill longer than that. “And you're how old now?”

  “Twenty. Though I must say, Your Majesty, it's considered impolite to ask.”

  Ignoring her chiding, I say, “Why were you training when there was still a queen on the throne? Isn't that disloyal to the current queen?”

  “Not at all. There are those training to be queen even now. We, ladies in waiting happened to be the ones who were ready to drink the Mortum Tura.”

  I focus my attention on her. “That doesn't explain how you remained loyal.”

  “We all know queens die quickly, Your Highness.” She averts her gaze.

  “Are you implying that I'm going to die soon?”

  “Not at all”—her glare says otherwise; she'd see me dead now if she could—“But we should focus back on getting you up to par.”

  I let it drop. After all, I won't be around once I figure out who sent the assassin. Will I?

  “Now, we must get you a pet,” she says.

  “What in all of Valcora would I do with a pet?”

  “It shows your status. Only the wealthy have pets, because they can afford to. It would be most—”

  “I know that,” I say. “It doesn't answer why I should have one.”

  “You have enough wealth to display one now,” Inyi says. “We could get you a tiger, a dog, a monkey, or any other animal you desire.”

  Another rule I won't follow. Daros said pets make you soft. Unable to do your job. I turn to face the window, eyes burning at the memory of how he made me kill a stray cat I brought home when I was little.

  Nothing like that will ever happen again. “Moving on,” I say.

  “We need to think about your portrait,” Jem says. “Queens have one made the first month of their reign.”

  I'm beginning to think there isn't a rule I will follow. “My likeness is not to be displayed in any way.” Daros could find me and take me back.

  “But Your Majesty,” Inyi says, “the people need to see what you look like.”

  “I said no.” My voice is sharper than I intended, but I can't risk him discovering where I am. No one can know I belonged to him. No one can know I am an assassin. It doesn’t matter if the Mortum Tura chose me, the people will demand my death if they know I’m a killer instead of a ruler. My position is risky enough as it is.

  Inyi starts to protest, but Jem stops her. “Let the queen think what she wants. We can only do our best to teach her our ways. If she won't have them, she won't last much longer.”

  I snort again. Like she knows how good my skills are.

  “What next, Inyi?” Jem asks.

  “You can't have anyone touch you, except servants helping you prepare yourself,” the girl replies.

  Maybe there’s one rule I can follow. Unless they're trying to kill me. Then I can't promise anything.

  “Which goes along with you not being able to marry,” Jem says with glee.

  I hadn’t wondered why queens of Valcora don’t take a husband. It never crossed my mind that it might be an actual rule. This one will be easy to acquiesce to.

  “The queen can't have relations either.” Jem grins.

  “Why not?” Not that I was planning on having any.

  “Because she’s not allowed to have kids. The law doesn't want them to think they have a claim to the throne, when queens are made only through the Mortum Tura.”

  Something else I never thought of. But I don't want to think anymore. Not with Jem being snotty at every comment and with Daros at the top of my thoughts. It's a struggle to keep a placid face.

  “We're done for the day,” I say moving toward the door.

  “But Your Majesty…” Inyi says.

  “Let her go,” Jem says. “If she doesn't want to learn our ways, she can fail without us.”

  Determined to ignore her, I take another step. A strange sensation flickers at my back, and I swing around just in time to see a man crashing through the
window.

  Jem and Inyi scream. I pull out two daggers, though not my poisoned one.

  He runs toward me and jumps over the low table. I flash my blades before he reaches me. He has a sword in hand. I won't last long against that, but he can't take me; I want to know who sent him.

  “Guards,” Jem calls out.

  The attacker thrusts his sword at me. I block it using my dagger, with little room to spare. With my other hand, I throw the second dagger. It lands in his shoulder.

  I slowly circle him, intent on getting between him and my ladies in waiting. They may not be my favorite people, but there's no way their deaths will be on my hands. There's enough blood on my hands as it is.

  My opponent grabs hold of the hilt of the dagger stuck in him and yanks it out of his shoulder with a grunt. Now he has two weapons. I pull out the dagger that was strapped to my thigh, to even the odds.

  The man gives me a cruel smile and jumps forward, brandishing his weapons. Behind me, Inyi screams again.

  “Guards,” Jem yells.

  My attacker shoves a chair toward the door, locking it under the handle. While he's distracted, I go at him and nick his waist. He roars, swinging his sword. I leap back and collide with one of the ladies in waiting. Someone props me back up. It's Jem. Inyi has fainted.

  I'm surprised Jem hasn't as well, but there's no time to think about it. The man charges at me again. There's not much room to maneuver, with two chairs with girls in them at my back. I doubt he's going after them, but I can't give him leverage.

  I throw another dagger at him. He blocks it with his sword, and it clatters to the ground.

  There's a banging at the door. The chair in front of it vibrates but doesn't budge. I'm on my own, which would be easier if the weapons were even. I've faced worse odds, though.

  The only dagger within easy reach is my poisoned one. I can't use it if I'm to question him. Just one blade it is. I dart forward and back, slicing his stomach before he can fully swing. He holds out his sword, but it's his other hand I'm worried about. He brings it back and pivots it forward, releasing my dagger back toward me.

  I duck, heart pounding. Jem is still sitting, so the blade goes into the wall behind her, under a painting.

  I spring to my feet, diving up and forward as I do so. My dagger barely misses my opponent’s stomach. He thrusts his sword at me, and I bend back. Wind rustles across my chest, as the blade passes over it.

  We spar, neither of us gaining an edge on the other. He's good. Too good. Did Daros train him? The thought makes me falter, and I almost get a cut to the arm. I flash my dagger up and stop the metal. My hand is twisted to the side, but I have the perfect opportunity to go for his face. I snake my arm forward.

  Before I can get there, he brings his sword to my neck. The blade presses against my skin.

  I lost.

  I haven’t been beaten outside of training. “Who sent you?” I ask.

  The man laughs. Stupid man, laughing when he should be slitting my throat. I stab him in the arm holding the sword. He drops his blade with a howl, and I kick it across the room.

  The chair in front of the door shudders. My attacker slinks away from me to dive for the sword. I have to get it before he does.

  He bends down. I knee him in the face, but it's too late. Even as he falls backward, he has the sword in hand.

  The door slams against the chair, opening a good inch. Inyi squeals, awake again. I rush toward my attacker, but his sword comes up, halting my progress. I'm tempted to throw my dagger, but then I'd only have the poisoned one in my boot.

  My hands grow slick with sweat. I keep a good grip on my dagger—not too tight, not too loose.

  He comes at me, swinging his sword like a madman and sending me scurrying backward. The length of his blade is going to do me in.

  Though maybe not. His arm is dripping blood.

  I get ready to throw my dagger, hoping to distract him long enough to wrestle the sword away from him.

  The door bursts open. Three guards rush in, one after the other. My attacker glances toward them. I swing my arm back, and my opponent looks at me. The first guard doesn't hesitate, but stabs him right through the heart.

  My attacker falls to the floor. Adrenaline pumps through me.

  “We should have learned how to defend ourselves, instead of all these rules.” Inyi’s voice is slurred.

  “Quiet,” Jem says.

  I'm surprised Jem isn’t more squeamish. But then, she has lived at the palace for a while now. Perhaps she's used to this kind of thing.

  “Forgive us for not being in here before he attacked you,” the guard who stabbed the man says.

  “Is he dead?” I ask.

  The guard feels for a pulse, though it's obvious the man expired. “He is.”

  “Drat.” It can't be helped now. I go about picking up my daggers and cleaning them. “What's your name?”

  “Wilric, Your Highness. If I may, why do you have so many weapons?”

  I remember Nash mentioning him. His bushy eyebrows are over dark eyes. Staring into them, I'm not sure he can be trusted, even if Nash said he could be. But Wilric did save my life. Unless he killed the attacker on purpose, so I couldn't interrogate him.

  “Next time, injure my attackers,” I say, ignoring his question. “Don't kill them.”

  He bows his head. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  I glance down at the lifeless man. It's a shame I can't question him. I need to know who sent him. Is it the same person as last time? Someone new? Daros?

  He can't have found me. He just can't.

  I turn away. I don't know how, but the attacker knew how to find me. Someone has inside knowledge of my life.

  And they will have to pay.

  Chapter 11

  Ranen stands as I enter my sitting room. “If you listened to me, you would be assaulted less,” he says.

  He just put himself up as being behind the threats on my life. But it could be Daros or someone else. I wish I had answers. “I want the furniture in this room changed to something comfortable as soon as possible.”

  “But, My Lady—”

  “I am the queen. There is no but. Get a move on my request.”

  He clenches his teeth and leaves the room at a much slower pace than I would like. He's definitely one I'm going to have to watch out for.

  I open the door to find a guard on each side of it, a woman and a man, but not the one from last night. Where is he?

  Trying not to show signs of weakness, I tell the guards, “I wish to see my Head Advisor.”

  “Yes, My Lady.” One of them bows and hurries off. Stupid, really. They should have a runner to do that, not the man who’s supposed to be guarding my life. Either they have no clue, or they don't care about my life.

  I'm not sure which one I prefer.

  I wait in my sitting room, though I refuse to sit in one of those awful chairs. Several minutes later, someone knocks on the door. Finally.

  “Come in,” I call out.

  Ranen opens the door, no furniture in sight.

  “What are you doing back without my chairs?”

  “You called for me.”

  “No. I sent you to fix my furniture problem.”

  “And then you sent for the Head Advisor. That's me.”

  Oh bother. “Not anymore. I demote you to Furniture Fixer.” Even if he hates me for it, this is where he belongs. Even if it’s not a position, I just made it one.

  He pales. “But—”

  “I told you, I am your queen. There are no buts.”

  He puckers his lips like he ate something sour. “Yes, Your Highness.” He bows and leaves the room. Again.

  I want to stomp my foot. Instead, I poke my head back out my door. “What is your name?” I ask the guard who didn’t fetch Ranen.

  “Afet, Your Majesty.”

  “Afet, where is the guard who spoke with me last night? Nash?”

  “I don't know, My Lady,” the guard who went to find Ranen sa
ys.

  “And your name?” I ask.

  “Stird, Your Highness.”

  All this My Lady and Your Highness is getting as old as the bowing. “Well, go find him.”

  “Yes, My Lady,” he says with a bow.

  I slam the door. Hopefully that gets them moving. I don't understand anyone here. They're constantly bowing to me and calling me Your Highness, and yet no one seems to listen to me. I know nothing about being a queen—maybe that's the way it's supposed to work?

  Maybe a queen has no real power and is more of a figurehead. With the way I've been treated so far, that's the only thing that makes sense. But then, why even have a queen? Why not a governing council? Perhaps there is a simple reason, but I was never allowed to know much about politics.

  The wait is worrisome. What if they can't find Nash? What if I don’t see him again? He is the one person in this place who seems genuine so far. Not someone who might be threatening my life. Plus, he's not annoying.

  I pace my room, thinking over the attack as I wait. Was it Daros who sent the assassins? For all I know, it could be someone else entirely. Without knowing who’s behind them, I can't stop the next one. Perhaps I couldn't stop it even if I knew, but there would be some comfort in it. I need to figure it out so I can get on with my life. Or my possible death.

  There's a knock on the door.

  “Come in,” I call, hoping Ranen doesn't pop his head in this time. Unless he has good furniture, that is.

  Nash opens the door.

  “Good. Shut the door behind you,” I say.

  He does so and says, “I heard you were attacked again. Are you all right?”

  “Fine. Why didn't you come this morning, like I asked?”

  “I'm glad you're well. Wilric did a good job saving you. He should be rewarded.”

  Maybe he should be. Then again, maybe he was protecting himself. “You didn't answer my question.”

  “I didn't come because no one believed you asked me to.”

  “But I made you Head Advisor.”

  “No one believed that either.”

  “Well, why not?”

  “Because no one heard you say it. If you want people to believe it, then you need to decree it in public.”

 

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