by Renna Peak
Justine seems to notice it, too. Her arm is hooked through mine, and I feel her shiver slightly against my side.
“I don’t like this,” she says softly. “It’s like everyone’s waiting for a storm to break.”
She’s hit the nail exactly on the head—this is the sort of stillness that falls right before something catastrophic happens.
And war is catastrophe at its darkest. The catastrophe man brings upon himself.
Justine and I hurry through the corridors to her office. We should probably go to the suite and rest—we’ve had so little rest these past few days—but neither of us seems to have the patience for that. I pull out my mobile and call Andrew, and while I update him on the situation, Justine begins ruffling through the papers on her desk and searching through her drawers. By the time I’m off the phone, she’s torn half her office apart.
“What are you looking for?” I ask her.
“Anything,” she says. “Anything that might help us.” She nods toward a leather-bound volume on the edge of her desk. “That’s Rosvalia’s founding charter, but I don’t think there’s anything in it that will help us forcibly remove Reginald. I don’t think there’s anything in our laws that would strip even an ounce of power from him—historically, our monarchs have done everything they could to consolidate their sovereignty. Reginald can do whatever he pleases.” She sighs and sits down in her desk chair. “We need something—anything—if we’re going to convince any other countries to even listen to our requests. We can beg them all we want to have mercy on Rosvalia’s people, but as long as Reginald has all the power, they have no reason to help us. He’s a loose cannon. And there’s nothing we can do.” Her eyes lift to mine. “What did your brother say?”
“He thinks he can buy us some more time, but not much. We might have a couple of days at most. If my father doesn’t respond soon, then it puts Montovia in a precarious position.”
Justine’s eyes fall closed, and she leans her head back against the chair.
“Will this ever end?” she whispers, so quietly I wonder if she’s speaking to me or to herself. “Every step of the way, every day of my life… Will we ever have a day of peace? A day just to be happy and enjoy each other?” Her eyes open again, and she stares right at me. “I’m not trying to complain. I know this sort of thing comes with the territory of being born into a royal family, but—”
“I don’t think you’re complaining,” I say, crossing to the desk and kneeling down beside her. I take her hand in mine. “I feel exactly the same thing. The world has been cruel to us.” With my free hand, I reach up and stroke her cheek. “I want nothing more than to run away with you, to leave all of this far behind us—”
“But we can’t,” she finishes for me, a sad smile on her lips. “Because you care about these people as much as I do. It’s part of why I love you, you know—you had no reason to ever care about my people at all, and I wouldn’t have blamed you if you didn’t, not after all the bad blood between our countries. But you do. You want to protect this country—and not just because of your feelings for me.” She twists her hand around in mine and laces our fingers together. “I’m just…tired. More tired than I’ve ever been in my life.”
“Understandably so.” I look down at her belly. How long before she starts to show? Will our children be born heirs to Rosvalia, or will we have taken refuge in Montovia by then, watching Reginald destroy this country from the inside out?
For several moments, neither of us says a word. Our fingers remain laced together, though. Right now all we have is each other.
Suddenly, Justine speaks. “I need to go talk to my mother.”
I straighten, frowning. “Are you sure that’s the best idea?”
“It might not be a good idea, but I need to do it,” she says, sitting up. “I need to look her in the eyes and ask her… I need to know why she did what she did. And what she thinks I should do now.”
My frown deepens. I’ve only had a few brief encounters with Constance, but none of them have been particularly pleasant. The woman is a lush, and she’s treated her daughter as cruelly as Maximilian and Reginald. I wasn’t even surprised when I heard that it was Constance who killed Maximilian—that alone is fairly telling of my opinion of her.
“If I’m being entirely honest,” I tell my wife, “your mother is probably the last person I think we should be getting advice from right now.”
But Justine is already rising, and she shakes her head. “I’m not looking for advice, I just… I need to talk to her. She killed my father the very day he committed an act of war against Montovia. That’s not a coincidence. I want to know why. She put up with my father for years. She hates Montovia as much as my father or brother ever did.” Her gaze locks on mine. “And even if she doesn’t have a reason for what she did, even if she just snapped and…and this was all out of spite, I still need to look her in the eye. I hated my father, but he was still my father, and she killed him.”
I search her face. I think I can understand where she’s coming from—as deranged as her family is, she still needs closure.
“Okay,” I say. “But I’m coming with you.”
She looks as if she might refuse, then seems to change her mind. “All right. I might need some moral support.” She reaches out and takes my hand again, giving me another one of those sad smiles. “I…I’m glad I’m not facing any of this alone.”
“See?” I say, trying to make my tone light. “I knew you’d come to appreciate my clingy persistence eventually.”
Her smile widens, if only for an instant. “If you say so.”
“I do.”
Together, we head back out to the corridor—and almost run straight into Julian, who has his hand raised to knock on the door.
“Your Highnesses,” he says, bowing awkwardly. “I’m sorry to disturb you, I just thought you’d want to know… That is, if you don’t already…”
“Know what?” I ask.
He straightens. “The official coronation. Reginald has rescheduled it.”
Hope flutters in my chest. Maybe Justine got through to him after all. “He did? That’s great news.” To Justine, I say, “That means we have more time to convince him to change the law.”
Julian shakes his head. “No, you don’t understand—he moved it up. To tomorrow night.”
Justine’s hand tightens on mine. “Tomorrow?”
Julian nods. “The captain just informed us. He’s also commanded triple the standard security measures.”
Reginald is doubling down on his claim to the throne. When my father hears of this, he’ll be even less inclined to exhibit patience regarding Rosvalia.
“We have to stop this,” I say. I look down at Justine. Her face has gone pale again, but her expression is guarded.
“We will,” she says. “But first, we’re going to speak to my mother.”
Justine
It’s probably wise that we brought the Montovian security men with us to the prison. I’m not really sure what I’m doing here—my mother and I have never had much of a relationship at all. And as much as I need William by my side, I’m not so sure this is the place for it.
My mother is being held in a private cell at the jail—they’ve told me that much. No one seems to know quite what to do. I suppose it’s not exactly normal, having the king’s wife here as a prisoner.
We’re led to a private meeting room, and William and I take a seat on one side of the table.
William threads his fingers through mine. “What are you going to say to her?”
“I have no idea.” And I don’t. I don’t know what to say to my mother at the dinner table, let alone here.
“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.” He gives my hand a slight squeeze. “She’s probably out of sorts, you know. She won’t have access to her…usual…you know.”
“Her alcohol.” I nod, but I don’t look at him. “I know.”
“Justine…” He pauses, squeezing my hand again. “I have no idea ho
w you turned out even semi-normal—”
“And what is normal?” I finally turn to face him, looking up at him. “Neither of us grew up normal. I imagine most people don’t. Normal is just what we imagine everyone else to be.”
His eyebrows flick up for a moment in what almost looks like amusement. “Good point.”
“I need to do this. For my own peace of mind, I suppose. I just…I need to know why—”
“And what if she doesn’t have a good reason? What if she only did it out of spite, the same as everyone else in this wretched…” He coughs, clearly trying to cover up the insult he was about to say.
A guard arrives a moment later, giving us a bow. “Your Highnesses. This is…highly unusual.”
I stand. “I realize that. And I appreciate that you’re willing to do us the honor of making an exception in this…delicate matter.”
He frowns, looking me up and down. “You cannot touch the prisoner—her. No touching of any kind will be allowed. Not even a hug.”
I lift a brow, but I doubt he notices. I don’t even remember the last time my mother and I touched—there’s never been any sort of affection between us. “I understand.”
“And your security detail is to stay outside this door.” He hitches a thumb over his shoulder. “No one else is allowed in the room.”
“Yes. I understand.”
“And if you so much as attempt to give her anything—”
“I can assure you, Officer, I have nothing to give her. I only want to speak to my mother.”
He gives me another bow. “As you wish, Your Highness.” He rises, watching me again for a moment. “I should warn you…she’s not quite herself at the moment.”
I give him a single nod. I’m not sure if he means it’s because she’s been without a drink for so long or if she’s feeling some amount of regret for her actions. I suppose I’ll find out soon enough.
I sit back down beside my husband, taking his hand in mine again, but pulling it under the table this time.
He looks over at me, lifting an eyebrow, but he seems to understand why I need to hide any affection between us for the moment. He only nods at me, giving me a tight-lipped smile.
My mother is led into the room a few moments later. And she’s a sight. Her makeup is smeared, and her eyes are red, almost as though she’s been crying.
And as she sits at the far end of the table, I notice the unmistakable tremors of a woman who is suffering from the withdrawal of alcohol.
Something surges in my heart—some pang I didn’t expect. I have to press my lips together not to cry out loud—I can’t say I ever would have expected to pity the woman sitting across from me.
“Justine.” She says the word on almost a sob.
“Hello, Mother.” It’s difficult to speak even those few words. William squeezes my hand under the table, almost as if to remind me that he’s there beside me.
“And William. I suppose congratulations are in order. Again.” She gives us a weak smile.
William looks over at me, his mouth hanging open the slightest bit, but he says nothing.
“Mother—”
“I know what you’re going to say, Justine. And I don’t have an answer for you.”
“How do you…?” I let out a sigh. “Mother, is…is it true?”
She looks out the glass of the door beside her before she looks up at the guard. She turns to me and gives me a barely perceptible nod.
I can’t say where it comes from, but my heart aches. The fact that both of my parents have been taken from me in a day still hasn’t sunken in completely, but the wrenching in my chest makes it feel all too real.
“I couldn’t let it go on any longer. I only wish I had done it sooner.” She looks up at the guard. “There. Are you happy now?”
The man says nothing—he doesn’t even look down at my mother. He only stands there with his hands clasped together, staring at the wall behind me.
My mother shakes her head. “The feud with Montovia…it’s beyond ridiculous. And when I found out that your father was threatening to poison the mines—”
“Poison the mines?” William stands suddenly, slamming his hands on the table in front of us. “What do you mean, poison the mines?”
She presses her lips together as tears begin to fall down her cheeks. “All of this over some stupid courting feud.” She shakes her head again. “Our countries have been nearly at war for decades because of your great-grandmother—”
“My great-grandmother?”
William’s voice has become a low growl, which must set off something in the guard. The man gives him a single shake of his head, and William drops back into his seat beside me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—”
“Elizabetta? Elizabetta the whore?” She looks over at me. “Justine knows this story.”
I look over at my husband. “I can’t believe you don’t know this story. Everyone in Rosvalia—”
“My great-grandmother, Queen Elizabetta, was one of the finest monarchs to ever rule Montovia—”
“She was a whore.” My mother frowns, seeming to think better of her words. “She slept with Justine’s great-grandfather during her reign, promising to leave her husband for him. In fact, it was rumored that your uncle may have been…” She sighs. “None of this matters. And Reginald…” She shakes her head again. “He cannot rule. Your father’s cousin will be a better king than Reginald ever will be—”
“You have to convince him,” William interrupts. “You have influence over him. You need to convince him to change the laws. Sign something taking the rule about the four heirs out of the laws of ascension. Justine needs to be queen.”
My mother merely shakes her head. “I only wish I had the ear of my son. He thinks me a lowly, murderous alcoholic, which he should. But I’m not sorry for what I did.” She looks at me with more motherly kindness than she’s ever shown me in her life. “If it stopped what your father had planned to do to those mines, it was worth whatever might happen to me.”
“Mother.” I watch her carefully, unsure of how she’s going to respond. “The weapon did go off. We were there—”
“No.” She says the word on a long breath. “No. I…I stopped him. Your…your father died yesterday. I made sure that he was dead before he could use that weapon—”
“I don’t know why they didn’t tell you,” I say, blinking back my own tears. “You were too late. The weapon—whatever it was—it still went off. It still destroyed the mine.”
“Justine.” My mother’s tone, while still shaky, has gone instantly quite grave. “If that weapon went off, Montovia has much bigger problems than who might reign here.”
William
I stare at Justine’s mother, horror filling me as her words sink in. We thought Maximilian’s weapon was simply intended to destroy the mines. But if what Constance says is true…
“What did he do?” I demand. “What’s going to happen?”
Even as the words leave my mouth, though, I realize that it’s far too late—there’s no what’s going to happen. It’s already happened. And Justine and I were down in the mines when the weapon went off. If her mother is telling the truth, if the weapon released some sort of poison…we’re already infected.
Constance blinks, then rubs her eyes. She looks absolutely miserable, in every sense of the word.
“I’ve told you everything I know,” she says. “Do you think Maximilian sat around discussing his schemes with me? Ha! We hardly spoke two words to each other. But I knew what he was. I knew what was happening under my nose. He’d rather have damned us all than let Montovia win.”
“Mother.” Justine leans forward, but she stops short of reaching out. “Is there no way to stop it?”
Constance throws back her head and laughs. The sound terrifies me more than it should.
“I tried to stop it, and look where it landed me,” she says. “Ah, what a cruel world! Looks like we’re all going to end up in hell together.”
I motion to the guard, who comes over and takes Constance away. I usher Justine quickly out of the cell. I can’t tell whether I’m shaking or she is.
If we’re infected… I don’t want to think about it, but at the same time, I can’t ignore the possibility, either. We need to get to a physician immediately. But what do we tell them? That we’ve possibly come in contact with some sort of unidentified poison? Good God, I knew Maximilian was mad, but to think he deployed some sort of chemical weapon in our mines… I must be a fool, because I never thought him capable of such evil.
And judging by the look on Justine’s face, neither did she.
“My mother may have been lying,” she says as we move quickly down the corridor. “She’s mad, and she’s clearly in a lot of distress… Maybe she’s just toying with us.”
“To what end?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know. But if she’s telling the truth…” She doesn’t seem to be able to finish that sentence.
Suddenly, I stop and pull her toward me, drawing us both up against the wall. I encircle her in my arms, holding her against me as I drop my face down to hers.
“We’ll get through this,” I murmur against her cheek. “Somehow, we’ll get through this.”
“How?” she demands. “What can we do? If we’re… And our children…”
I haven’t been letting myself think about our unborn children, but it’s hard to ignore the fact that they might be the most at risk of all.
“We go see the physician,” I tell her. “Immediately.”
“The physician isn’t going to know how to help us. We’re not even displaying any symptoms yet.” She tilts her head back and looks up at me. “But even if we aren’t infected…what about the others? What about the men still at the mines? We don’t know anything about what we’re dealing with or how far it might spread. We don’t know how many people are at risk. Or even what they’re at risk of.” Her gaze searches mine, as if I might have the answers. But I’m just as lost as she is.