I’d hoped to arrive early to the meeting, to settle in and greet my councillors one by one, but when I entered the new council room, everyone had already been waiting inside. Holt and my father were there, along with a narrow-faced woman called Sofia Thorn—the master of intelligence, I was informed—and a woman with a severe braid down her neck, called Joanna Norling, who was the master of justice. Torsten Wolff completed the group. He was so tense that the muscles in his neck looked close to snapping. He sat at the other end of the table from me; the perfect place to glower at me without turning his head.
He, Holt had told me, would be responsible for issues of security.
“Security?” I said. “As in the army?” Epria was a peaceful island kingdom. Guards protected the cities, of course, and the countryside had peacekeepers who answered to local nobles, but we hadn’t had anything resembling an army for over a hundred years.
“No, no,” Holt said. “Nothing as dire as that. But Sten is an expert in military history, and he served on the last king’s council, as a general adviser. He’s the best mind we have in case of any . . . disturbance.”
Disturbance. The word made me shiver. Was he really expecting something that dramatic? Not just poison at dinner, but soldiers, military strategy?
“Not that we need to worry about such things,” Holt said, as though he had read my thoughts. “But the past few days have shown us it is prudent to be prepared.”
I was pretty sure that the old council had included more than five people. But I supposed this small group was all that was left now. All survivors of the banquet, all suspects, all people I needed to rely on.
Now we were seated around the lone table in the room, trying to ignore the many empty chairs. The entire remaining court could have fit around it easily. Someone must have cleaned the room overnight, but the memory of dust lingered in the air, scratching my throat. The stone walls were bare, with arrow-slit windows protecting us from sunlight as well as invasion. Oil lamps hung around the room, but they only seemed to emphasize the darkness.
Holt watched me, waiting for my permission to continue. I nodded. “Very good, very good,” he said. “Well, then. I know that tragedy has brought us here today, but we must look forward. This is the first council meeting of Queen Freya the First, long may she reign.”
“Long may she reign,” my councillors murmured. I stayed quiet. It seemed too strange to say that about myself.
“Thorn,” Holt said. “What do you have to report about the attack?”
“Not enough,” Thorn said. She had a rasping voice, like the words were passing over sandpaper. “It seems the poison was hidden in the cake served as the final course. None of those who survived seem to have eaten any. One girl had a few bites and was unwell, but she recovered. Everyone else—well, we cannot interview the dead, but it seems likely that they all had a piece.”
“And the poison?” Holt said.
“The symptoms suggest arsenic. Nausea, stomach pains, racing heart, and enough of a delay that the tasters did not fall ill until after it was served. We have no way to prove that, of course, unless someone confesses, but the evidence is fairly clear.”
That made sense to me, as well. I wasn’t an expert on poisons, but the description matched what I knew. A little more research would be necessary, to ensure the symptoms didn’t fit a rarer, stranger poison, but the explanation worked for now.
But the important question wasn’t what, but why? “But who would want to poison so many people?” I said. My voice sounded a little too loud, and I swallowed, fighting the urge to soften it with rambling.
“We do not know,” Thorn said. “We have yet to find any clues in the cake. The king ordered it himself. We will track down the ingredients and see who might have had contact with it, of course, but it is all just speculation as of yet.”
“One possibility,” Norling said, “is that the Gustavites were involved. Are you familiar with them, Your Majesty?”
“I’ve heard of them.” I’d heard of the book, anyway. Gustav’s Treatise. He’d been something of a radical, a hundred years ago. Claiming the nobility were corrupt, that we were all a gold-devouring plague on the land. The corruption part was definitely true. He’d wanted all the crown’s wealth to be spread equally across the kingdom, and he wasn’t quiet about his views. He’d been exiled, along with his words, but he’d never stopped talking, and people had been far more interested in his book once it was forbidden.
“A small group of them have been meeting in the capital, and they’d have the motivation. They are dangerous people.”
But it felt a little too convenient. They’d never acted against the court before. I hadn’t heard a single rumor about them. Wouldn’t something have happened, before they resorted to mass murder? “Do you have any proof?”
“It is only a theory as yet,” Thorn said. “But if they were responsible, we will prove it.”
“How many of them are there? Do we know who’s involved in them?”
“They are being very secretive, Your Majesty. Another reason to suspect them. But we will learn all we can.”
It made sense that a group like that would be secretive, whether they were planning murders or just meeting for weekly book discussions. My councillors had no evidence that they had any connection to the poisoning.
“Regardless, we must be wary of them,” Holt said. “They may use this as an opportunity to increase their influence.”
Of course. I was so far down the list of inheritance that calling me queen was almost laughable. All order had already vanished. They’d only have to push slightly for me to fall, as well.
“So what should we do?” I said.
“Show your strength,” my father said. “Continue as before, unfazed by any of this. If you are convincing as queen, it will be much harder for them to fight against you.”
All I had to do was be convincing. That was all. I tried to fight back a laugh, but it escaped anyway, ringing off the walls. Everyone stared at me, and my face burned. “I—yes,” I said. “I just have to be convincing.”
“We will guide you, Your Majesty,” Holt said. “You are new to this, we know, but we can help you. You can trust us here.”
But I couldn’t trust them. I couldn’t trust anyone, except my father and Naomi. Everyone here had survived the banquet. Any of them could have been involved in the murder. And none of them had any reason to be loyal to me. There was nothing to stop them from finding a better candidate to rule.
I looked at the table, gathering my courage again. “Were you all at the banquet?” I asked. “When it—when it happened?”
Thorn shook her head. “My husband was taken ill, so I could not attend.”
“Is he all right?” I asked.
“He is well now, Your Majesty, if weak. He may not appear in court for some time.”
That was convenient. But I nodded at her.
“The rest of us were all there, I believe,” Norling said. “I remember speaking to Rasmus, at least, and your father. I was lucky that I was no longer hungry, and didn’t eat any cake.”
And Sten had been sitting at the high table. I’d seen him clearly. I looked at him now, and he frowned. “The cake did not appeal to me,” he said. “I am not the sort to eat gold.”
“Torsten, your cousin,” Holt said, cutting the tension left by Sten’s last words. “Have you heard from her since this happened?”
“She sent a letter ahead,” he said. “I told her to stay at home, but she’s returning to the capital, as quickly as she can.”
“Madeleine is your heir, now,” Holt added to me. “Perhaps you are friends already? Such a delightful girl.”
No, Madeleine Wolff and I were not friends. I’d seen her many times—every time I came to court, she was at the center of it, smiling at everyone, twittering with her bell-like laugh, flirting with Fitzroy when he was in favor, ignoring him when not. Everyone adored her, but she had always seemed rather empty-headed to me. Too beautiful for her o
wn good.
Not that I’d ever actually spoken to her, beyond the odd “excuse me.” She was too refined to ever stoop low enough to talk to me.
If I hadn’t left the banquet, she would have become queen. Everyone would have been far happier with that. Including, perhaps, Madeleine, judging from her flirtations in the court.
“I told her she wasn’t well enough to travel,” Sten said. “The doctor told her to stay away until the new year—but when has she ever listened to what the doctor says?”
“She isn’t well?” I asked.
“She hasn’t been for some time, Your Majesty,” Holt said. “It is always such a loss to the court when she retires to her estate. She is most dedicated to her charity work, and a lovely girl besides. But the country air is said to do her good.”
“How long was she gone? This time?”
“A couple of months, I believe. Is that correct, Torsten?”
“Yes,” Sten said. “That’s right.” He was watching me carefully. “Did Her Majesty not realize my cousin was away?”
“I’ve never spoken to her,” I said. “I didn’t know she was gone.”
“Do not worry, Your Majesty,” Holt said. “I am certain you will like her. She is a kind girl.”
A kind girl who just happened to be away from the capital during a mass murder. A kind girl now one step away from the throne.
“Speaking of journeys—I know this is a delicate subject,” Holt continued, “but we must discuss the funeral arrangements for King Jorgen. He must have a fitting ceremony. The funeral will of course involve the traditional rites, and the queen will travel alongside him. But it has been suggested that the other victims should be included in the service, too, in one show of respect for them all.”
“It has been suggested by you, Holt,” Norling said. She had a sharp, decisive voice. “And it is completely unsuitable. To let people share the funeral arrangements of a king—”
“It would make the queen seem gentle hearted,” Holt said firmly, “and it would be fitting, considering how they all died together. It creates a sense of unity in mourning—”
“It creates the sense everyone is equal,” Norling said. “Which is not what a new queen wants.”
I picked at the loose splinters underneath the table as they continued to argue. It wasn’t what was usually done, but that didn’t mean we shouldn’t do it. Everyone had died with the king. They’d probably died because of the king. And people like Naomi’s brother deserved just as much respect as he did, in the end. “I think it’s a good idea.”
“Then we shall proceed.”
“Your Majesty,” Norling said. “It is a good idea in theory, but you cannot understand Holt’s true meaning. He does not just mean the king and his relatives. He means all of them. The servants. Everyone who died.”
“They died the same as anyone else,” Holt said. “They deserve respect.”
“They deserve respect, yes,” my father said. “But at another time.”
I didn’t know what the wisest choice might be. But I felt like I knew the right choice, the thing that should be done, and that was all I had to go on. “We will do what Holt suggests. Everyone will be included.”
“Your Majesty—!”
“Her Majesty has spoken,” Holt said, “and we do not have time to delay. We still have to discuss the arrangements for our guests. Nobles from all over the kingdom will be traveling to the capital. I propose we offer them rooms in the Fort, to guarantee their safety—”
“And I say that is ridiculous,” Norling said. “They will not consider it suitable accommodation, and we don’t have time to improve things here. We will look poor. Weak.”
“We will look safe and secure,” Holt said. “Behind solid walls. We cannot expect our guests to live out in the city, considering what has happened.”
“We can make the Fort more inhabitable,” my father said, “if we dedicate the servants to the task. It would be inhospitable to do anything else.”
“It is inhospitable to invite them here,” Norling said. “We should move back to the palace and be done with this charade.”
“Unwise,” Thorn said. She leaned forward. “Our enemies may strike again.”
“And what use is security, if it makes us look weak?”
“It is better to look weak than to be weak.”
We should leave the Fort. This wasn’t where the court belonged. It was so dark here, so old. Fear seeped from the walls. But the palace wasn’t safe. It wasn’t designed to protect anybody. Hundreds of people had died there, and we still didn’t know how or why.
I didn’t want to die.
“We should stay here,” I said. “For now. Where it’s safe.”
Sten exhaled, a tiny beat of laughter. I stared at him. He had barely spoken in this meeting, but it was clear he didn’t approve. Was he laughing because he thought I was a coward, or because he thought it wasn’t safe?
His expression gave nothing away, and he did not speak.
“A wise decision,” Holt said, as Norling said, “Your Majesty—” But Holt plowed ahead. “A decisive break with the old court will do us all good. There is too much grief at the palace, and too many habits that are bad for the kingdom. A new reign, a different reign, will be what matters now.”
“A new reign?” My father frowned. “Things are already too new. We need consistency, so that people can feel safe.”
“The decision has been made, Titus,” Holt said. “Your Majesty, you will want to greet these nobles in proper fashion, of course. I think some sort of gathering the night before the funerals . . . and a speech of some kind. To introduce yourself. I believe most of them do not know you.”
“I can’t give a speech.” Just the word made me feel on the verge of throwing up. I couldn’t stand up and speak to a hundred people.
“Don’t worry, Your Majesty,” Holt said. “We will guide you.”
He was watching me closely. He must have noticed my sudden panic, because he nodded once and said, “Perhaps we should adjourn this meeting until tomorrow. We already have much to do, to prepare for the funerals and our guests, and anything else may overwhelm us. And I must admit, Your Majesty, I am an old man. The past few days have been rather draining.”
I felt a rush of relief at his kindness. I smiled at him and stood. Everyone around the table stood as well, and bowed. Was this what it was like to have power? To be able to make everyone fall in line with a single movement of your own?
But they bowed because they were expected to, not because they respected me. Who knew what they were thinking behind those blank expressions?
“I will walk my daughter out.” My father stepped away from his chair. “Freya?” He offered me his arm.
We walked from the room together. The guards trailed behind us, their footsteps loud on the stone floor.
“Be careful, Freya,” my father said in my ear, as we turned down the corridor. “People will turn on you if you fail. You can’t fail.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
“Yes,” I said. “I do.”
“Then don’t speak so carelessly. You must make yourself allies. You must learn how to be queen. And keep your head down, if you want to keep it attached to your neck.”
“Keep my head down?” I pulled my arm away. “I’m the queen. How can I keep my head down?” A queen had to stand out, by definition. I couldn’t hide away.
“Agree with your council. Change nothing. Don’t make a fuss. And hope the Forgotten are kind to you, wherever they may be.” He paused, reaching for my arm again. “Stay alive, Freya. Make your mother proud, make all of this worthwhile. Stay alive.”
SEVEN
THE LIBRARY WAS A DARK, DUSTY PLACE HIGH UP IN the Fort, filled with rotting pages and crumbling spines. It must have been a great collection, once, packed with rare and important books from all over the world, but that had been centuries ago, when kings still lived here. All the valuable books had long since been moved t
o the palace, and the rest had been abandoned, falling page by page into disrepair. Since then, the library seemed to have been used as a dumping ground for any books the royal family did not want. Most of the newer books were in foreign languages, clearly gifts from the occasional visiting ambassador or king.
But there might be something useful here. I didn’t exactly expect to find a book called How to Be Queen, but there might be etiquette books, discussions of court rituals, treatises on various approaches to ruling.
My council would try to teach me, as well as they could. But ignorance was weakness now. I needed to go to my lessons with knowledge already, so I could remain calm, so I wouldn’t look completely hopeless. I had to win over the council first, and then I could worry about the others in court.
So I needed all the information laid out in a book, a step-by-step guide to ruling and the court, or as close to it as I could find. If I could just find the rules, written plainly and clearly, I’d at least have somewhere to start.
But half the books here proved unreadable, or so delicate that they crumbled when I tried to open them. The rest . . . well, the rest had been stored here for a reason. Records of the court’s income and outgoings a hundred years ago. Studies on obscure subjects, so dull that their dedication to the king felt like more of an insult than an honor.
I did find one etiquette guide, intended to help naive young girls when they first arrived at the court, when it had been centered in the Fort. They needed to arm themselves against the “monstrous tricks” of male courtiers, or so the author claimed, and I had to wonder how many of these tricks he had performed himself, to be an expert on the subject. The book seemed unlikely to provide much insight, but it was the best I was going to find.
I tried to drag myself through the pages, but I couldn’t concentrate. Etiquette rules were important, I knew that, but it still all seemed so . . . pointless. What did it matter how shallow someone curtsied, when so many people were dead? I needed to know—who had killed everyone, how had they done it, why?
Why was the strongest question, nagging at me every time I tried to turn my thoughts away. The killer had been willing to kill hundreds of people, indiscriminately. The only thing that could explain it was fervent, blinding belief—in the justice of their cause, in their need for power, in something.
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