by Janeal Falor
Ranen pounds the table. “We will not mix with peasants. If we're to have a ball, at least make it with only the Kurah class.”
It takes all my willpower not to jump out of my seat. “Peasants, as you call them, are the foundation this nation is built on.”
“No one is denying that, Your Highness,” Borkus says. “But there's no point in us mingling with them.”
“Definitely not.” Kada scowls at me.
“So we all agree the queen should be coronated at a ball only for the Kurah class,” Ranen says, voice oily.
“No, we do not agree.” Yuka looks ready to burst.
Ranen shoots her a glare strong enough to set her ablaze. “Those of us who matter agree.”
“This coming from the Head of Furniture,” Monkia, the Head of Staff, says.
It takes a great deal of control to not titter.
Ranen slams his fist down on the table again, so hard I can feel the vibrations all the way over where I'm sitting. He wrinkles his nose. “I have connections far above someone the likes of you,” he tells Monkia.
“Enough.” I don’t want to be around Ranen's temper any longer. It's too reminiscent of Daros's. “I understand your concerns, and I appreciate you voicing them. But I am going to hold this coronation ball.”
I stand, not waiting to see their reactions. Nash follows me out of the room and into the halls. Guards surround us. I recognize Afet, Wilric, and Eldim. The other two are unfamiliar to me, but this is usually the case. They switch out so often, I can't be sure who is who, except for the ones that stay by my side.
We're silent as we walk through the halls. I want to talk, but I don't want to do so in front of the guards if I can help it.
We leave the guards outside my rooms, and I plop into a chair. Nash gives me a look, like he knows I'm not being ladylike but isn't going to hassle me about it. Thank my daggers. The last thing I want right now is more etiquette lessons.
“How do you think that went?” I ask after he sits on the chair next to mine.
“You handled it well. Those against the idea will come around, but even if they don't, they're bound to have new respect for you for standing up to them. And we know Yuka is on your side.”
“That's much appreciated. I’ll take what I can get.” I relax back into my seat. So one person. Possibly two, if Monkia is not just against Ranen, but also for my ideas.
“My sisters were excited to find out they get to help plan the ball,” Nash says, changing the subject, thankfully. I'm sick of thinking about it.
“I'm glad to hear that.” The thought of meeting them makes me nervous. I haven’t done well with people, and for some reason, I want his sisters to like me.
“I had them meet up with the Head of Staff, and together, they’re coming up with some good ideas to implement. Opening up more of the palace so we can fit extra people in it. Having everything, from basic country fare to more upscale versions, so people from all walks of life feel comfort in what they eat or excitement to try something new.”
I want to choke down my fears, but they insist on coming out. “Do you really think this is going to work? Won't the Kurah class snub the Poruah class? I don't want them to feel slighted.”
“If you are kind to the Poruah class, I'm sure the upper and middle classes will follow your lead. They usually emulate the queen.”
“It's nerve-wracking.”
He moves closer. “I know, but you're going to do great.”
The warmth of his presence is more reassuring than his words.
I can only hope he's right.
Chapter 21
“You've barely left your rooms since becoming Queen.”
Nash's words echo in my mind all through my sleepless night as well as while my servants prepare me for the day.
I don't consider myself a coward, but that one line makes me think I may be more of one than I speculated.
The thought consumes me as my servants dance around me, hurrying from one task to another. It's excessive, but I've put up with it to this point, despite them driving me nuts. They're the familiar women, though I haven’t learned any of their names. I should change that, but it would make me feel as if I'm getting too close to them.
I don't want to get close to anyone. Nash already pushes my boundaries. I'm not sure I can handle anyone else.
A pin jabs my wrist. “Ow.”
A ripple of gasps goes through the girls as I inspect the wound. Nothing major. Just surprised me.
But they all stare at me like they know my secrets. My chest seems to compress in on itself. They can't know my secrets from the little interaction they had with me. A prick of a pin wouldn't reveal them, either.
Their eyes widen, like they’re horrified of what they find within me.
“Why are you all looking at me like that?” I demand.
No one answers.
“Why?” I ask again.
A girl younger than me steps forward. Her voice quivers, but she speaks clearly. “We are waiting for you to punish the girl who pricked you or punish all of us.”
“Is that what you're used to from Queen Deedra?”
The girl nods.
Me too.
“Everyone out,” I say, and then point at the girl who spoke up. “Except you.”
The other girls flee from the room, leaving the poor girl alone to face what they probably think to be a terrible fate.
“What is your name?” I demand.
“Inkga.” Her bottom lip quivers.
“Oh, stop that. You're brave enough to speak up when no one else does. You may as well be brave enough to face me alone.”
She clamps her jaw down and clasps her hands together.
“Good. How harsh was the last queen?”
The girl doesn't respond.
“Come on now. She's not here to inflict damage on you anymore. Answer me.”
“I believe, Your Majesty, that she was a sad person. At first, she didn't take that out on us, but as she grew in confidence over the years she ruled, she grew in cruelty. Beheadings were common.”
The thought makes me sick. “I promise that won't happen to you under my rule,” I say.
“Your Highness, forgive me, but I believe every queen has gotten to that point at one time or another.”
I want to rage on behalf of those innocents other queens harmed. Instead, I force out, “Not this one.”
She nods, relief filling her eyes.
“Now,” I say, “I have to do this in public, eventually, but I'd like you to become my Head Servant.”
She gasps. “Why would you want to do that?”
“Because you're courageous—well, mostly—and you will tell me the truth.”
“I don't know what to say.”
“Tell me you accept the position.”
“I accept the position.”
“Good.”
She hesitates, and then says, “What is it exactly that you want me to do?”
“For starters, these dresses are horrid.”
Inkga laughs—a high, sparkling sound. “I'm glad you think so too. The last Head Servant picked them out under Borkus's tutelage. They thought they were fitting for a queen.”
“Some queen, but not me.”
“No. I think you'd do much better with less lacy and more sleek.”
“I'm already glad I upgraded your position.”
“A redone wardrobe. That's simple,” she says. “What else can I do to please you?”
“Pants. Clothes with lots of places to stash weapons. And less servants would be good. All this prancing about me drives me mad.”
“It's not technically my job, but I’ll pass the word onto the Head of Staff and make sure she gets it done. Anything else?”
“I'll let you know when there is.” I'm surprised she said nothing about my need to stash weapons. The seamstresses had better do a good job of it.
“I will go get started on your new wardrobe, my lady.” She curtsies and hurries toward the doo
r.
“Inkga,” I force myself to say the next words before she leaves to go to her duties, “thank you for accepting this new position.”
She almost smiles. “Of course.” With another curtsy, she's gone.
One less thing for me to worry about. Though I fear there are a lot more important things on my plate I'm not as certain about how to handle.
Chapter 22
Nash is drilling me on the government officials and laws and has been for three hours. I'm getting a headache.
“Did you know it's a law that only women can ask for a man's hand in marriage?”
That gets my attention. “I thought that was only custom.”
“Nope. It's law.”
I should fix that one.
“You don't seem to know a lot about common law.”
I shrug.
“Were you aware that it's a death sentence if you don't pay your taxes?”
“I wasn't.” No clue at all. It explains why so many people go hungry, choosing a slow death instead of a quick one by the state.
“It's caused a lot of heated debate, but the last queen was positive she wanted it that way, no matter what anyone said.”
“She sounds like a tyrant.”
A knock sounds. Nash answers it and turns to me. “Your ladies in waiting have requested an audience.”
Just what I don't want on top of these lessons. I wave my hand. “Tell them to come back later.”
He lifts an eyebrow but doesn't comment. After turning them away, he returns to his chair. “Moving on,” he says. “Taxes must be paid in coin. No animal or crops allowed. Taxes are collected once a week. Taxes are to be paid to the tax collector without delay. Tax collectors aren't to be harmed on pain of death.”
The list goes on and on, most of it sounding the same as previous laws. There must be a reason for having so many, but I find it hard to care.
“Are you listening?” Nash asks, voice patient and kind.
“Who ruled when the last queen died?”
“I'll take that as a no.”
I give him a look.
With a sigh, he says, “Ranen. The Head Advisor always rules between queens.”
Is that why he’s so power hungry? He was basically doing my job not that long ago. “Does that mean you'll rule when I'm dead?”
“It does.” His mouth is tight.
“How does that make you feel?” I find myself really wanting to know.
“It doesn't matter.”
“It matters to me. Tell me.”
“Fine. It scares me, if you must know. I'm having a hard time guiding you. I don't know what I'd do if I had to lead. Another reason for you to stay alive.”
Hmm. “I've put you in a difficult position.”
“It's all right.”
“I could find someone else to be Head Advisor. Not Ranen, but someone.”
“Why not Ranen? He's well connected and has a lot of experience.”
“I don't trust him.”
“Why not?”
So many reasons. “Do you trust him?”
“No.”
Good. “Probably for the same reasons as you, then. Something about him gives me pause and makes me wonder what he's up to. I want him where he can do the least amount of damage, but where I can still keep an eye on him.”
“That's why you put him in charge over furniture?”
“It is.” Part of the reason, anyway.
He gives a ghost of a smile. “It makes a lot more sense now. But we've gotten off track. We should talk more about the laws you need to know.”
I huff and pop out of my chair. “If we're going to continue this, can we get a change of scenery? I'm sick of this room. It's too confining.”
“I'm glad you're taking an interest in more than what's in here.”
“Any person would go mad, spending all this time in a room.”
“It's true, and we will go out, but not yet.”
“What do you mean not yet?” I demand.
“Well, we could go out, but this is stuff you need to know. You can't be seen going over the government officials in the gardens. You should know them by now. Not knowing them will make you seem weak. And…” He hesitates.
“And weakness will get me killed.” I roll my eyes. “Like anyone could kill me if they tried.”
“Want to put a wager on that?”
I try not to grin. “Wager on what, exactly?”
“We fight. I win—we continue lessons on government. You win—we go outside and pretend you have no responsibilities.”
“Problem is, if I win, you'll be dead.”
He shakes his head, giving a little laugh like he doesn't think I'm serious. “We're not playing until someone dies.”
“Or you’ll be in a coma.”
He lets out a huff. “No killing and no putting people in a coma.”
“Then how will we know when someone wins?”
He shakes his head with a chuckle. “When the other person gives up.”
“Then I've already won,” I say. “I never give up.” Neither of us mentions that we're not supposed to touch.
He smiles, like he has no idea how serious I am. Like he has no idea how much torture I've been through to get where I am. “We'll see.”
“Fine, then. We play until the other person gives up.” I pull out a regular old dagger to start with. I may as well go easy on him at first.
“Whoa. No weapons,” he says.
“Don't worry, this isn't my poisoned dagger.”
“You have a poisoned dagger?” He shakes his head. “That's probably not the safest idea.”
“Whyever not?”
“What if you scratch yourself on accident?”
“I don’t have accidents. Besides, I've built up an immunity to this type of poison.”
He gives me a look. “What would make you do that?”
“I can't tell you my secrets.”
“You are something else. You know that?” He gives me a look that heats me through.
I smile. “I'll take that as a compliment.”
“But seriously, no weapons.”
My smile fades as I put my dagger back in its hiding place through my skirt pocket. I wonder what the laundress thinks of all the cutting I'm doing to my clothes, for pockets to stash my sheathed daggers in. “Isn't this a little unfair?” I ask.
“You agreed to the terms. Unless you want to back out now, and we can continue with our lesson.”
“I meant unfair to you.”
He laughs—a big sound that makes my chest feel warm. “I'm not worried about me.”
“Let's go for this, then.” I start pushing the furniture aside. The one bad thing about comfy chairs is they tend to weigh more than torturous ones.
“Here?” he asks.
“Might as well. I'm eager to begin, and it's big.”
Nash helps, and together we clear a space in the middle of the room.
“It's probably a little unfair that you're wearing skirts,” he says, loosening up his muscles on the other side of the room.
“Maybe, but I think it's not enough to even the odds between us.” I stretch my arms, warming them up.
“You're quite sure of yourself, aren't you?”
“I have to be.”
“Because you are the queen?”
“Because of my secrets.”
He cocks his head to one side, like he's studying me. “Maybe someday you'll feel like sharing a secret or two with me.”
“And maybe someday you'll feel like letting my secrets be.”
“I wouldn't count on it.”
“And I wouldn't count on my telling you any of them.”
“Fair enough.”
“For now.”
His lips twitch like he's trying not to smile again. “Are you ready to start this?”
“Only if you are.”
“Let's go, then.” He crouches down and slowly comes toward me.
I let him come closer, not mak
ing a move.
“Are you going to try?” he asks.
“I'm letting you do the hard work.”
He chuckles. Next thing I know, he's at my side, arms around my waist, pulling me down. I let myself sink to the floor, and then I buck up my legs to kick him in the chest. First injury is mine. I've already won this fight.
He grunts. “Take those high heels off. They're as bad as a weapon.”
As he rubs his chest where I kicked him, I take off my shoes and throw them by the furniture.
He comes at me again.
I can't help but grin.
I bend and wrap my arms around his upper thigh, then yank as hard as I can. He topples to the carpet, bringing me down with him. Though I want to punch him in the face, I refrain because it's him. Instead, I plop my butt on the ground with my legs wrapped around his arm and bend it backwards. He tries to kick up at my head, but I lean away from his attacks.
I forgot how much fun this is.
Next thing I know, he's got me pinned beneath him. It’s more fun than I first thought. He won’t expect me to beat him now, but this is perfect.
We grapple for a moment. I don’t want him to feel totally humiliated, just enough to keep him from winning. Plus, there's something nice about being this close to him. It has my heart racing with more than exertion.
He tries to hold me still, as I squirm. Sometimes I let him, pretending I can't move. Other times, I wiggle out and let him capture me again.
Once I feel like he's gotten a good show in, I squirm my way out of the hold easily, twist around, and jump on his back.
He stands. I grip his throat and wrap my legs around his waist, locking one foot behind my other knee.
He tries to pry me loose, but I won’t be moved without a weapon. I've had much practice at this. Besides, touching him is thrilling. It gives me pleasant tingles up and down my skin. That in and of itself is reason to hold on.
It's no surprise when he tries to shake me off, and even less of one when he falls backward, making me slam into the ground.
As I catch my breath, I focus on grasping tight. “You're not worried about hurting the queen?”
“Not anymore,” he gasps out.
I squeeze him as tight as I can, with both my arms and legs. No way he's getting out of this. He tries, holding out longer than I expect. He should be about ready to pass out any second.