But she could easily have been manipulating me. I couldn’t let myself be won over too easily. I needed to change the conversation, flip it back onto her. She was suspicious, a potential suspect in the murders, and I needed to take the opportunity to speak to her, not marvel at how elegant she was.
“It is strange to be back,” Madeleine continued, “after being away for so long. And to have everything changed—”
“You were away because you were unwell?” The words came out too fast, too blunt.
“Yes,” Madeleine said. If she noticed my rudeness, she was skilled enough to hide it. “For several months. The doctors thought the country air would do me good. And it did, I suppose. I had a lot of time to think, a lot of time to paint. It is a shame you do not enjoy it, Your Majesty. I find it so fulfilling. But it was lonely. Too much rest can be as damaging as not enough, don’t you agree? We have to have something to keep us busy.”
If she had been ill for months, she probably hadn’t left the palace to avoid the poison. And it was hard to believe she would have poisoned all her friends.
Her lips were very pink, like dewy rose petals. She looked like a queen. And that made her dangerous, even if she were innocent.
“Are you all right to be here?” I said. “If you weren’t well enough to attend the king’s birthday—”
“I was sorry to miss it. Perhaps I could have gone. But the doctor thought the stress of it would make me unwell again. Obviously he was mistaken—I feel perfectly all right. Perhaps it is the distraction of this grief. Or perhaps I really am getting better. Either way, I am glad to be back. I missed this city, and everyone here.” She paused, then shook her head, like she was shaking the words away.
“Were you alone, in the country?”
“My aunt was there. And the servants, of course. My aunt likes the peace of life in the country, but it did not suit me so well. I find I like to be around people, to see them, to get to know them. I must admit, I went against the doctor’s orders many times. When I felt well enough, I took many walks.”
“I thought doctors liked walks.”
“Not when they are to the villages to meet people. A country stroll, with the birds and the trees . . . that is ‘restoring,’ they say. But going to the village, or even a town, meeting with people, going to shops, going to chapels, talking to commoners, bringing them gifts and supplies . . . oh, that could never do. My aunt would not have liked it. But of course, my aunt did not know.” Her smile was decidedly mischievous now.
“Your aunt? Sten’s mother?”
“Oh, no,” she said. She glanced over at her cousin, who was now talking to Holt. “No, no my father’s youngest sister. She is only ten years older than Sten, you know. No, Sten’s parents both died, when he was quite young. He’s lived with my family ever since I was born. And then, when my mother and father passed away, my aunt took control of the estate, and he brought me to court, to keep me out of her hair. I suppose the estate is technically mine, but . . . my aunt loves running it, and she is welcome to it. I much prefer being here. And so does Sten, I think.”
“Does he? He never looks like he enjoys court that much.”
She laughed. “That’s just Sten. He’s not as serious when you get to know him, I promise.”
Of course not. King Jorgen would not have chosen a best friend who lacked a sense of humor.
She leaned closer. “Don’t look now, Your Majesty, but William Fitzroy is staring at you.”
I couldn’t stop myself from glancing over my shoulder. Fitzroy still stood alone in his corner, eyebrows pulled together.
“I said don’t look,” Madeleine said. “He’s been watching us talk. I think you might have an admirer.”
She wouldn’t say that if she’d seen how he looked at me a few days ago. He was probably wishing we were alone so he could tell me exactly what he thought of me again. I sneaked another glance at him. He’d walked away.
“How are you coping?” Madeleine added, in a lower voice. “With being queen. It must have been quite a shock.”
“I—I’m managing.”
Madeleine took my hand with both of her own. Her skin was creamy, smooth where mine was callused and scarred from experiments gone wrong. Even her nails were perfect little ovals, colored pink with tiny jewels on each tip. “I want to help you, Freya,” she said. “Please, think of me as a friend. If you need anything . . .”
“Your Majesty?” A servant floated toward us, holding a tray of pastries. “Would you care for a tart?”
I didn’t, really. My stomach was still roiling with nerves. But it would be too awkward to refuse. Unsociable, maybe. “Yes,” I said. “All right.” I picked a tiny pastry off the silver tray and smiled at the server. She bobbed into a curtsy, keeping the tray perfectly balanced. Madeleine smiled and reached for one as well.
I held the tart in front of my lips, steeling myself to eat it. The fruit smelled sickly sweet, and my stomach turned again. But there was something else there, too, a strange scent . . . slightly bitter, but almondy, too. I couldn’t see any almonds in the tart, unless they were baked into the pastry.
Almonds, I thought. I knew something about the smell of almonds, some long-forgotten fact . . .
Cyanide. Cyanide smelled of almonds.
“Don’t eat it!” I knocked the tart from Madeleine’s hands. “It might be poisoned!”
The servant dropped the tray. It clattered on the floor, sending tarts flying everywhere. Someone screamed. I stared at the crushed pastry, the smears of raspberry on stone. Poison.
Two guards ran forward and grabbed the server by the arms. Her legs flew out from under her, and she stumbled.
Madeleine clutched my sleeve. She was gasping for breath, eyes huge, skin white. “It’s all right,” I said. “You didn’t eat it. It’s all right.”
I wiped my hands on my skirts, scraping any remnants away.
Sten crashed across the room and grabbed his cousin by her shoulders. He spoke to her in a low murmur, and she nodded, as another guard grabbed me and started hurrying me out of the room.
My father ran up, too, as the guards practically pushed me into the corridor, so fast I stumbled. The shouts faded behind us, but I could still feel it in the air, the panic radiating through the walls.
My bedroom was eerily quiet. The guards searched the room, pulling back curtains and tugging open wardrobes like an assassin might be curled up in a corner. Naomi peered out of the side room—her new bedroom, once they had finished preparing it. Her eyes were red, and her hair was braided for sleep. “What’s going on?”
“Poison,” I said. “I think someone tried to poison us.” The words hit me then, what they really meant. Someone had tried to kill me. Me, personally, directly. My legs shook. I sank into a chair.
“What?” Naomi ran over. “Are you all right? Is anybody hurt?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I mean, I’m all right. I don’t think anyone is hurt.”
“All clear in here, Your Majesty,” the guard said. “Is it all right for this girl to remain with you?”
“Yes. Yes, of course. She lives here now.”
“Then I’ll lock the door, if it please Your Majesty. Until we are certain things are safe.”
I nodded. I didn’t know what else to do. My father strode over and squeezed my shoulder. “Things will be all right, Freya,” he said. “I have to go and help deal with this. I’ll return when we know more.”
I nodded again. There was little else I could do. And then my father was gone, and the door was locked, leaving me and Naomi alone.
Naomi grabbed my arm. “What happened, Freya?”
I stood, nervous energy filling me again. I needed to move. I told her about the strange smell, about my suspicions, and I paced, my feet thudding against the floor.
“But everyone will be fine,” Naomi said, a little too loud, a little too fast, once I was finished. “Nobody ate any of it, did they? Everyone will be fine.”
“Madelei
ne couldn’t breathe.”
“But she didn’t eat it. She was just scared, Freya. She must have been scared.”
I nodded. It made sense. But what if she was hurt? One bite of cyanide was enough to kill. What if someone had eaten some before they were brought to me? What if Madeleine had taken a bite, and I hadn’t noticed? What if more of the court was dying, right now, from poison meant for me?
“The servants brought them straight to me. It was aimed at me.”
I’d expected this to happen, but that didn’t make it any less terrifying. Someone wanted me dead. Me, specifically me. And I had no idea who it might be.
The killer would have let Madeleine die, too, if I hadn’t stopped her from eating the tart. That had to mean Madeleine was innocent, didn’t it? That the killer at the banquet did not want her to be queen. Unless the servant was an innocent bystander, unaware of the poison, not knowing that she was only meant to give the tarts to me.
Over an hour passed before my father appeared again, looking pale. “You were right,” he said, once the door closed behind him. “The tarts were poisoned.”
The words weren’t as frightening as I’d expected. The possibility of being poisoned, the question of it, had made my legs shake, but now it was fact, it was concrete, with details and truths to unlock. I could deal with facts. I hurried toward him. “How do you know?”
“The taster. She tried some and was ill immediately.”
“The taster?” He couldn’t mean what I thought he meant. “You gave it to a taster? After I told you it was poisoned?”
“We needed to know, Freya. And that was the only way.”
My hands clenched, and my heart pounded, faster than when I had discovered the poison. They had forced a woman to eat cyanide, for my benefit, to protect me. “The only way was to make someone eat it, and watch to see if she died?”
“She is not dead, Freya. She may well recover.”
“But she might have died.” She might still die. Cyanide usually acted in seconds, but surely if a dose wasn’t immediately fatal, it could still kill more gradually, breaking down the body piece by piece.
Even if the taster didn’t die, she was suffering. Suffering for me. I raked my hands through my hair, ripping it loose from the pins. Was this what it meant to be queen? To have my life in danger, and throw others in the way instead? Surely a queen was meant to protect her subjects, not hide away and let them die for her sake. I closed my eyes and took a steadying breath. “What about Madeleine? Is she all right?”
“She is unsettled. But she seems well enough.” My father sighed. “You were smart there. I am proud of you. If you hadn’t noticed that smell . . . any food should have gone through the tasters, but it seems that servant did not bring them from the kitchens. And our guards, it seems, are a disgrace. You saved lives today, Freya. You saved your own life.”
But I might have killed a taster instead.
“Was the server—was she from outside the castle?”
“We don’t know yet. But we will find out. It would be best if you remain here for the rest of the night. We must check the castle for any more threats.”
“What will happen to the server? The one who brought the tarts. She might not have known what they were.” She deserved a chance.
“That is unlikely, Freya. But we will investigate all possibilities. In the meantime, don’t eat anything anyone brings you unless I’m here to tell you it is safe. Perhaps we can find a taster to try every dish immediately before you eat it. I am not sure.”
“I don’t want that.” To have someone stand beside me, to watch them to see if they died in my place? I couldn’t do that.
“Either way,” my father said. “We must do something.”
He left the room, and I began to pace again, while Naomi stood at the far side of the room, watching me.
“No one died,” she said softly. “Even the taster is still alive. That’s—that’s really lucky. It’s good.”
It was. I knew it was. But the thought wasn’t comforting. Someone had tried to kill me. I had been seconds away. If I’d been hungrier, if I’d been distracted . . . I probably wouldn’t have survived. Madeleine wouldn’t have survived.
The fact was too terrifying to consider. I scrambled for something else, a problem I could fight. “Why would anyone be a taster?” I said. “After what happened at the banquet? Why would you eat things to see if they’re poisoned?”
“People need money,” Naomi said. “It must pay a lot, to risk your life for the court.”
“We should have another way to test the food. Using people—it’s ridiculous, Naomi.” I’d always known that the king had tasters, always, but I’d never given it more than a second of thought. No one was actually going to try and poison the king. But now—now people were risking their lives to protect me, and my skin crawled at the thought of it.
“I don’t think there’s another way,” Naomi said. “They’d use it if there was.”
It had to be possible. Anything was possible, if you thought about it in the right way. Had people tried before, or had no one been concerned enough to research it?
I continued to pace. At least it gave me something to do.
“I don’t want other people to get poisoned for me. It doesn’t even work. It didn’t stop whoever killed the king at the ball. And it won’t stop anyone now. What if they use a slow poison? We won’t find out until that night, or the next day. If we use a taster then, that’s just one extra person who dies.”
And I would die, too. I shoved the thought away. I had to be practical. Focus on solutions.
“There has to be another way. There has to be. Poison is a foreign element introduced into food, isn’t it? So there must be some way it can be detected, a more reliable way than using a person, something that would reveal it straight away. Some powder it would react with, something . . .” I turned. “It has to be possible. No one’s done it before, but perhaps they didn’t care to. Why would they? Only royalty have testers, and they don’t care about anyone.”
“That’s not true,” Naomi said. “You’re royalty, and you care.”
“There must be a way. There has to be. People just haven’t found it yet.”
“And you think you can find it?”
“Why not? Someone has to. And I have the motivation.” I had to get started. Right now. I looked around for my bookshelf, but of course it wasn’t here. It was at home, with my lab, with everything of use.
“Freya,” Naomi said softly. “Are you all right?”
I paused. “No,” I said softly. “I’m not all right. But I’d rather not think about that.”
Naomi nodded and sank onto the arm of a chair. “Do you think these were the same people who attacked the banquet?”
“I don’t know. My advisers said the attackers used arsenic then. But this was cyanide. And if the attackers wanted to kill everybody, cyanide would be a stupid way to do it. It acts too quickly. A bite, a breath, and you’re dead.” I started pacing again. “Cyanide is an idiot’s poison, really, if you think about it. Everyone knows it’s deadly, and it smells of almonds. Not everyone can smell it, but some people can. And if people had access to all that arsenic, and could put it in a cake at the banquet without anyone knowing, why would they be so unsubtle now?”
“You think someone else is attacking you?”
“I don’t know.” How many people could want me dead? How many reasons could there be? “It makes sense.”
“But why?” Naomi said. “Why would they want to kill you? Because they want the crown for themselves?”
“Perhaps.” But then I shook my head. “That servant—if she was involved, why would she sacrifice herself like that to put some other noble on the throne? Unless she’s innocent, she had to have known she’d get caught. She had to have known. Why would any servant do that to have one person on the throne instead of another?”
“Blackmail, maybe,” Naomi said. “Money. You know how court works.”
But the pieces didn’t fit. It had to be something more, something that carried more weight than gold and threats. The servant had to believe I needed to die, believe so deeply that she was willing to die herself to ensure that it happened. Which suggested the Gustavites, as Thorn had said.
And yet the attacks were so different . . . how could they be from the same group, with the same motivation?
I had to learn more. I had to know what they believed, what they wanted, what motivated them. I had to understand them, if I had any hope of surviving.
I raked my fingers through my hair again, and turned back to Naomi. “But I don’t know how court works,” I said softly. “That’s the problem.”
NINE
“HOW CAN YOU NOT HAVE KNOWN ABOUT THE POISON attempt last night? You should have eyes everywhere.” My father banged his fist against the council table, making it shake. I flinched, but Thorn, master of intelligence, stared him down.
“We do have eyes everywhere,” she said. “But mistakes were made.”
“Mistakes where the queen is almost killed.”
“Yes,” Thorn said. “I can only apologize for that, and apologies mean little. But the taster is alive, and no one else was harmed.”
“That is not an excuse. Your queen could have died.”
“Perhaps you should not be serving on this council, Sofia,” Norling said, “if you cannot perform your job correctly.”
“I am doing my job,” Thorn snapped. “And now we have more evidence to work with. The servant last night had connections with the Gustavites. She told us so.”
I leaned forward. “What do you mean, connections?”
“Your Majesty?”
“Is she one of the leaders? A new recruit? What did she say?” The need to understand burned inside me. I had to know why. But Thorn only shook her head.
“She was not specific, Your Majesty.”
“But she told you she had connections with the Gustavites?”
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