“Not in so many words. She was raving. In between her pointless protestations of innocence, she talked about the corruption of the court. She said it needed to be purged. To me, that suggests a strong connection with Gustavites. They were responsible for the attack at the banquet.”
“It doesn’t prove it, though,” I said. “It doesn’t even prove she’s one of them.”
“The most obvious answer is usually the right one.”
“But do you have evidence?”
“The information suggests—”
“But that information failed to notice someone was going to try and poison the court, twice. We don’t need rumors. We need proof. I’m just saying we shouldn’t jump to conclusions. It isn’t safe. The first poisoner used arsenic, didn’t they? But this one used cyanide. Why would they change that, when cyanide is so much easier to detect?”
“We will not jump to any conclusions, Your Majesty,” Holt said. “But it is possible they were attempting to obscure the connection, or they felt a more direct approach was necessary. Either way, we must prevent this from happening again.”
He began to lay out additional security measures, and everyone around the table nodded, and agreed, and planned. Mostly this seemed to involve extra security at the Fort’s entrance, a thorough check of all current staff, and the use of additional tasters, from the raw ingredients to the moment before I took a bite.
They didn’t spare a word for why a group might want to poison us all. And the why was everything, wasn’t it? No matter how many checks we had, someone could always figure out how to slip through. We needed to understand them.
“Do we have a copy of their book?” I said, in a pause in the discussion.
Holt frowned at me. “Which book, Your Majesty?”
“Their book. Gustav’s book. It would be useful to study it, to understand them better.”
“Freya,” my father said sharply. “You cannot be seen with that book. And what would it tell you, that you don’t already know? They want to kill you.”
“But why? If we can figure out why they hate us so much—”
“They hate us, Your Majesty, because we have more than they do,” Thorn said. “Nothing more or less than that. The court has money, and it has power, and they want that for themselves. Jealousy can be a powerful motivator.”
If they hated how extravagant and wasteful the court was, I could sympathize.
“Your sensitivity does you credit, Your Majesty,” Holt said. “But we cannot take a soft approach, not with all that has happened now.”
“Is it really sensitivity to care about the feelings of mass murderers?” Sten spoke quietly, his expression fierce. It would have been easy to forget he was here, near silent but always listening, if it weren’t for the intensity of his gaze on me. “I would ask why Her Majesty sympathizes with them, when they killed almost everyone any of us knew. Is that how we should conduct our diplomacy now?”
“No,” I said quickly. He continued to stare at me, and I couldn’t fit my thoughts into words. “I only thought—”
“Your Majesty may have a tender heart,” he said, “but you should remember why we are all here. It would be dangerous to appear too sympathetic. Do you not agree?”
A shiver of fear ran down my spine. He was still suspicious of me. If I seemed too sympathetic, I’d look like I was involved. And I wasn’t sympathetic, not to the idea of killing hundreds of people, not to any of it. But this was a puzzle, and you had to look at it the right way, without letting emotion muddle your thoughts.
But I couldn’t do that here.
I sat in silence, picking at the splinters underneath the table, as they returned to their discussion of guards and patrols. How could I get that book without any of them knowing? I couldn’t exactly buy it from a bookshop, even if I could leave the Fort. Someone like Thorn might have a copy, one she’d confiscated if not one she’d read, but she didn’t seem likely to share.
“We still need to find more tasters,” Norling said, “after the loss at the banquet. But to find people we can trust—”
“We should find a way to avoid using tasters at all,” I said. “They clearly don’t work—”
“They work far better than the alternative,” my father said.
“Then we need to find another alternative. Some other way of detecting it, some test. If we get scientists to study—”
“Freya!” My father’s shout almost made me jump. He was glaring at me, his face red. “All our resources must go to finding and punishing these murderers, and on protecting you. I suggest you focus on keeping yourself safe, as well.”
“I don’t want other people at risk because of me.”
“But they are. That’s what it means to be queen.”
I swallowed. A lump wedged itself in my throat. “How many tasters died at the banquet, for nothing?”
“None of them, Your Majesty,” Norling said, her voice a little softer than I’d heard it before. “Three tasters died, but not the one who was actually assigned the dish. It seems the tasters were eating anything returned to the kitchens, as well as performing their duties. By the time we realized there was an issue with the cake, several of them had eaten it, and two of them died. But not the one doing his job. So you see. Two poison attempts, two tasters who have survived. Put the worry out of your mind.”
“Although of course, the first taster has been arrested,” Thorn said. Norling glared at her.
“Arrested?” I said. “Because he didn’t die?”
“If hundreds of people die and the taster is not among them, then the taster must be considered suspicious. Perhaps he added the poison, perhaps he was warned and knew not to eat too much of it. Either way, we have to investigate.”
“He was warned, but he didn’t tell his friends not to eat any? You think he’d let the other tasters die for no reason?”
“It’s possible. If he warned them, they might have warned us.”
“Is he here? In the Fort?” I needed to speak with him. Whether he was guilty or innocent, he must know something. He must have seen something.
“He is in the dungeons, Your Majesty. In the dark cells. Until we have answers.”
I stood. “I wish to speak with him.”
“That would be unwise, Your Majesty.” Holt’s voice slid over the many words that simply meant no. “Especially after what happened. You would be unsafe.”
“I’ll be safer once we know exactly who has been murdering the court.”
“And we will know, Your Majesty. But you need not concern yourself with the question.”
But I did. Obviously I did. It was my life, my rule. And even then . . . I wanted to know. The mystery nagged at me. I wanted to be doing something, using what skills I had. But I wasn’t supposed to speak to the suspects, I wasn’t supposed to read their texts . . . my advisers were keeping me as far away from the investigation as they could, and the question of why thrummed through me. Why were they hiding things from me, why didn’t they want me to know?
The tiny beginnings of an answer twisted in my stomach. I couldn’t jump to conclusions here. I would gather the facts, and then I would see.
“What have you learned so far?” I said instead. “If you’re keeping him in the dungeons, then you must have some intelligence against him?”
“Nothing useful, as of yet,” Thorn said. “He claims he saw nothing.”
“Then maybe he saw nothing. You don’t know he’s lying.”
“We don’t,” Thorn said. “The problem is, murderers tend to say they saw nothing, too.”
I hurried away as soon as the meeting was over, my guards walking behind me. Every step away from the council room fed my anger, making my hands shake. I’d spoken. Loudly and clearly, over and over, as queen, and they still hadn’t heard. They’d dismissed me or ignored me every time, even when I knew I was right. I’d managed to speak to all of them, interrupted them, argued with them, and it hadn’t meant anything. My stomach still shook slightly from
the effort, and yet . . . nothing.
They weren’t helping me. Not really.
Or they were helping me to become their image of a queen. To rule the way they wanted me to rule.
And my father had said to listen to them. I stopped suddenly, pressing my hand against the wall. My guards stopped behind me without comment. I needed to be completely unexceptional, my father had told me. To fit their expectations so snugly that they couldn’t possibly think to complain. Perhaps that was right. But I couldn’t continue like this. I needed answers, and I needed to act, to just . . . to be myself, and to fight for my own solutions.
My gut told me to march straight to my laboratory and start work there. But my lab was a couple of miles away, far out of reach.
Or that lab was out of reach.
I turned to my guards. The gray-bearded man wasn’t on duty, but I recognized the younger, dark-haired man, and a blond girl not much older than myself. Both of them wore the dark-blue coat of the guard, still bearing the old king’s insignia. I needed one of my own. “I want to set up a laboratory,” I said. “Do you know anywhere in the castle I could use?”
The black-haired guard frowned. “I am sure there will be somewhere, Your Majesty.”
“It needs a fireplace. And sturdy tables and cupboards. Some sort of ventilation. And it would need to be in a place I wouldn’t be disturbed.”
“Your Majesty, if I may—” The blond guard hesitated. “I know of a room, but—”
“What? Where is it?”
“Well,” the guard said, as though her words might offend me. “This castle used to house the kingdom’s most dangerous enemies, when such things were a threat.”
“I know.”
“Well, Your Majesty, there is a room—it hasn’t been used for a hundred years now, and no one will go near it—but the room was used to interrogate prisoners, and it has—well, it has all the things you require.”
“You mean a torture chamber?”
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, I know it is a bold idea. But it has all the things you need, and I thought—”
“Yes,” I said. “Yes, it’s a good idea.” A gory past couldn’t hurt, as long as it definitely was past. The kingdom had considered torture barbaric for a century at least. And if other people were disturbed by the memory, they’d be less likely to visit and disturb me. “Could you take me?”
The guard led me deep underneath the castle, where the stone dripped, and the only light came from iron braziers that stuck out every few feet. The walls pressed even closer here, and the air felt heavy and old.
“It’s here, Your Majesty,” the guard said, gesturing toward a wooden door. “But I’m not certain—”
“Is it locked?”
“No, Your Majesty. No need.” Her expression suggested that no one in their right mind would ever sneak in. Which made it perfect for me.
“Thank you.” I grabbed the handle, and then paused. “I’m sorry. I don’t know your name.” It hurt to ask it—even that question made me feel like I’d reached out too far. But we’d be spending time together now, and she’d helped me. I had to try.
“I’m Mila Erikkson, Your Majesty,” she said, with a bow. “I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself earlier—”
“No, no, I should have asked.” I turned to the black-haired guard. “And—and you?”
“Reynold Milson, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you. It’s—it’s good to meet you. Even though we’ve already met. It’s good to—thank you.” I bit my lip, as though I could shove the babble back into my mouth. Then I turned and pushed the door. It stuck slightly in the frame, and when it finally shifted, it let loose a cloud of dust. I coughed and waved it away.
The room beyond was large and square. Its uneven floor was spattered with suspicious-looking stains. But it was spacious enough, with a fireplace, a large table in the middle of the room, and many cupboards around the sides. Strange devices hung from some of the walls, and jars cluttered the cupboard tops. I’d need to wear a good pair of gloves when I investigated those, and possibly a mask. Who knew what poisons they might contain?
“This is good.” It needed cleaning up, of course, and I’d need to move in my own supplies, but I could work with this. I turned back to Mila. “Find someone to come clean this place tonight, but don’t let them touch any of the cupboards or the jars. Just sweep the floor, clear out the cobwebs. I’ll need some wood for the fireplace, too. And I need someone to go to my house and fetch my things for me. The books, the vials, the bottles, the flasks. I’ll make up a list—or I can go.” I glanced at Mila. “No, I can’t go. But you can go. Now. Please.”
“I’m not supposed to leave you unguarded, Your Majesty.”
She could leave, in theory. The guards had always followed the king and queen’s commands, including making themselves scarce if need be. But Mila clearly thought any such order would be unwise right now, and she was probably right, after all that had happened. “Then someone else can go,” I said. I looked around the room again, already imagining it transformed. It would be perfect. Larger than my old laboratory, and safer for storing my more dangerous ingredients. I could definitely work with this. “Please,” I said. “Find out for me?”
“Of course, Your Majesty.” Mila bowed and stepped out of the room.
“Would you prefer me to wait inside the room, or outside it, Your Majesty?” Reynold said.
“Outside.” The idea of being watched while I explored made me feel far too self-conscious. “Please.”
Once he had closed the door, I walked over to the nearest set of jars. They were coated with dust. Anything potent in there might have lost its power years ago. But maybe . . . I wiped a finger along the counter, leaving a line in the dust. Perhaps it would be better if I cleaned this place myself, so no one could disturb anything.
I picked up one of the jars and held it up to the light. Someone had written something on it, once, but it had faded half away. Whatever it contained, it was almost certainly unpleasant. Something that poisoned, something that burned, something that would convince a victim to reveal all their secrets.
I explored the rest of the room carefully, looking through drawers—mostly empty, but a few pairs of tongs remained—and mentally cataloging whatever I could.
I couldn’t wait for the messengers to return with my things. I definitely couldn’t wait for someone else to clean up the space. I needed it now, needed to research, to create something that was mine once again.
I grabbed a cloth and began to dust.
TEN
I SPENT HOURS IN MY NEW LABORATORY, SORTING through its secrets. My silk dress was quickly covered in dust and years of untouched grime, and I didn’t think I’d ever get the bloodstain off the table, but the space was good, and I’d begun to catalog the strange jars around the room. Many of them contained the remnants of herbs with healing properties—not what I had been expecting. I suppose you couldn’t have your prisoner dying of blood poisoning before you had all the information you needed, or at least before you got the chance to kill them yourself. Other jars contained far more expected chemicals—a few poisons, liquids that burned, a powder that, when mixed with water, was good for getting blood off the skin.
Someone knocked on the door. “Your Majesty?” It was Reynold Milson, the black-haired guard. “I am sorry to interrupt, but you intended to see Rasmus Holt at three.”
I wiped my hands on my skirt. Holt was supposed to be teaching me more about being queen, or at least more about how he thought I should be queen. Traditions, and presentation, how to speak, and how to think.
He might have a chance with the first two, but no amount of speaking lessons were going to help the rest. Even if he gave me a script for every encounter, it would all fall apart the moment someone else spoke.
“What time is it now?” I said.
“Three, Your Majesty.”
I looked down at my dust-covered dress. I’d wanted to make an impression on my council, but this w
asn’t exactly what I’d had in mind. I hurried to the door, where Reynold and Mila waited, one on either side. At least they didn’t comment on my appearance.
“I’ve sent the order for your things, Your Majesty,” Mila said. “But it may take a couple of days. For reasons of security.”
“Thank you,” I said.
They led me out of the dungeons and up to the third floor of the Fort. But someone stepped out of a doorway as we turned the corner, missing collision by inches.
“Oh!” It was Madeleine Wolff. She took a tiny step back, but even when startled, her mask of courtesy did not slip. She glanced at my grimy gown as she swept into a curtsy. “Your Majesty. Are you all right?”
Of course Madeleine Wolff would be the one to collide with me when I looked like this. I forced myself to smile back at her. “Yes,” I said. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m sorry, I—I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“No, Your Majesty, it was my fault.”
What was I even supposed to say? I was already late, and the awkwardness was a physical presence between us. “I’m sorry, I have to—”
“Wait, wait.” Madeleine grabbed my hand. “I wanted to speak to you. To thank you. For saving me yesterday. I would be dead if it wasn’t for you.”
I didn’t deserve her thanks. She had only been in danger because of me. If she hadn’t spoken to me, she would never have picked up one of the tarts in the first place. I shook my head, scrambling for words, and she squeezed my hand.
“I’m grateful,” she said. “Truly.”
“I—I’m just glad you’re all right.”
Madeleine beamed. “There was one other thing, Your Majesty. I know now might not be the best time, but it’s not really a matter I wish to bring up in front of the court.”
“What is it?”
“There’s an orphanage in the city. I’ve been supporting it for years, but—well, it’s struggling, Your Majesty. I hoped you might be willing to visit it with me. They would love to see you.”
“That would be—I’m not sure it’s safe.”
“Of course, Your Majesty. Things are so uncertain now. But please consider it. Perhaps when things are more settled? I—it would mean a lot to me, to know you might be thinking of them.”
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