by Janeal Falor
“Excellent. Now, make sure you calm your tone.”
I reach inside myself, pulling out the calmest tone I can think of. “Like this?”
She hesitates. “Um… that was a nice try, but think of something soft. Something soothing. Try to emulate that.”
Emulating is what I do; it shouldn't be hard. I think of a soft breeze kissing my skin. “Thank you for helping me.”
“That was perfectly done, Your Majesty.” Inkga claps her hands, eyes gleaming, smile wide.
“I’m glad because I want the people to feel like they can approach me so I can help them.”
“The effort to improve will make you the best queen ever.”
The words stir me. Can I be a good queen? Am I capable of it?
I don't know.
Chapter 37
In the haze, I make out the first queen. She's dimmer than usual, the colors not as bright.
“It's because you've got a lot on your mind,” she says. Her voice sounds far away. “And you aren't in a deep sleep. We haven't much time tonight.”
I get right to asking what I want to know. “Why aren't you among the pictures of all the queens?”
“I never had my likeness painted. Even if I did, it’d be destroyed or lost. They didn't take good care of my things.”
“But you're in that history book.”
“Yes. Perhaps a few more items have been passed down about me, but my image was not drawn in that book while I was alive. At least, not with my knowledge.”
It doesn't make a difference, yet I wish there were more signs of her. Some way to connect me to her, other than through just dreams. I should be grateful I found her picture at all.
“I see preparations for the ball are coming along nicely,” she says. “Are you ready for it? Ready to be coronated and become the queen in more than name?”
“I don't know. But I'm trying.”
“That's all that matters. You need to do your best, and that's good enough.”
“Is it truly?” Because it doesn't feel like it.
“You'll have to learn that for yourself, of course. What I say won't matter if you don't internalize it.”
“I'll keep at it.” Is this what a friend is like?
“I know you will.”
Chapter 38
I've just finished getting ready for the day when Inkga says, “The ladies in waiting have requested an audience.”
My initial thought is to turn them down, but I'm trying to be better. “I will see them. Is my sitting room big enough for all who wish to visit?”
“I believe it is, Your Majesty.”
“Then I will see them there. Thank you, Inkga.” I let her lead the way out of the room. As she goes to the door, I take a seat. Several minutes later, she admits my ladies in waiting.
“Please let me know if you need anything further,” Inkga says.
I nod, and she hurries off. There are a good thirteen of them, all elaborately dressed like I was before Inkga helped me acquire better clothing. The result is a rather humorous array of wide skirts, lace, and fluff that has me holding in a laugh.
As one, the ladies in waiting move to the center of the room and dip into deep curtsies.
“You may rise and be seated,” I say.
They take seats, barely having enough room for them all but they fit. Before I can say anything, they pull out one form of handwork or another. They're settling in. Lovely.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” I ask.
“We wanted to spend time with our queen,” Faya, the oldest lady in waiting, says. “We've been remiss in being with you. I hope we can remedy that now.”
Nothing I want to say would be well received, so I stay silent.
“Would you like some embroidery to work on, Your Majesty?” Jem asks with a hint of mockery in her voice.
“I'm fine.”
“But a queen must know how to do handwork.”
“No. In fact, I want you all to put whatever you're working on away. It's vastly annoying. If you want to continue it on your own time, fine. But you will not use it as an excuse to avoid looking at me.” I feel quite smug. I shouldn't have said anything, but it drives me mad.
The ladies hustle to put their things away—all except Jem.
“If Your Majesty will forgive me, this is something that's taken place for as long as anyone can remember.” She doesn’t sound sorry at all. “It's not a tradition we should break.”
“Useless traditions will not remain under my rule.” She better not say anything further, or I will need to find some consequence for it. From everything I've learned, no one is supposed to speak to a queen in such a manner. Disagree with me? All right, but do it respectfully.
She flutters her hands over her fabric and needle, as if she can't decide what to do with them. Finally, she puts them away somewhere inside her voluminous skirts.
It's a relief, until she says, “Perhaps, then, we should speak of your wardrobe.”
“My new clothes suit me well.” Beyond well. I love having pants to climb around in and not so many layers and fabric when I wear a dress. Most importantly, all of them have lots of places to hide daggers.
“But as queen, you should know that whatever style you choose will be picked up by the very elite. Borkus should have talked to you about designs worthy of your position.” Jem's eyes flash at me.
“I'm afraid he is not in on the consultation of my clothing. My maid and I have come up with everything that's needed for my wardrobe. We will speak of it no more.” She's crossing into so many topics I don't want to discuss. It's like she knows how to wheedle her way under my skin.
“How about use of dinnerware?” Jem asks, her tone almost gleeful. “We need to make certain you do not make a fool of yourself the first time you eat a meal in public.”
“Jem, I would prefer if you removed yourself from the room.” My words surprise me, but I'm grateful I said them. I'm used to being spoken down to, but it ends now. “If you wish to remain, you will stay silent.”
Her face grows pale, but she says nothing more. Next to her, Inyi pouts, but Faya has a twinkle in her eyes. Perhaps Jem has needed to be set down for some time.
“What did you talk about with the last queen?” I ask.
“None of us were ladies in waiting for the last queen,” a woman who looks to be in her thirties says. She has dark hair, dark eyes, and golden skin.
“What is your name?” I ask her.
“Lipla, Your Majesty.”
“Very well, Lipla, what happened to the last ladies in waiting?” I ask.
“They were the first to take the Mortum Tura when the last Queen died.”
I pinch my lips together. So much death. Can I never get away from it? “And you all will try for the throne when I am dead?”
No one answers.
“The answer must obviously be yes if no one is brave enough to say it.”
Jem's face is contorted, like she's trying to hold an answer in. Perhaps if I didn’t forbid her from speaking, she would be brave enough. It's not something I'll know at this rate, though.
“It is true, Your Majesty,” Faya says. “We were all deemed finished with our training so we could try the Mortum Tura.”
“And that is what you all want? To become queen?” I ask.
They stare at the floor. No telling if they would have passed the test. Likely not, if it was something they were trying for. None of them would have become queen then.
This begs a further question. “Are you trying to have me killed?”
The room becomes a clamor of No, Your Majesty.
I wait for them to simmer down. “It seems you protest too much. Still, I know you've been helping with the ball, and I'm grateful for your help. I hope you will decide I'm fitting as your queen and will stop trying to take my life.” I look each of them in the eye as I speak. Faya and Jem are the only ones who meet my gaze.
Faya has a soft expression, which doesn't mean much. She cou
ld be hiding anything, but for some reason, my heart wants to trust her.
Jem is much different, looking at me with open defiance. I wouldn't be surprised to find she's the one behind the threats on my life. I just have to find a way to prove it.
Chapter 39
It's late at night, and I'm hanging out on the roof. There are two moons out tonight—one tinted gray, the other blue. They shine down on the country. My country.
It doesn't seem like nearly enough, being out here all alone. I wish Inkga was with me. Or Nash. The two of them are good company, though I do get irritated with them on occasion.
They feel kind of like how Inkga described friends. Maybe, they could be my friends. What would they think of that? Would they turn me away? Am I only a job to them? I hope not, but I don't know how to be more.
It's growing chilly, the night air cool against my clothes. I'm grateful Inkga took me seriously about pants being something I want. They make traveling to the roof much easier. I sigh and stand to walk to the edge of the roof. I don't care if someone sees me tonight. The worst they can do is make me get back down. They won’t be able to stop me from wandering.
As I roam, I hear talking, but I'm too far to understand what they're saying. I lean closer over the edge, but I still can't hear them. I'm about to let it go, but then a man raises his voice. Ranen.
I crawl my way down, like I would if I was going to my room, but instead, I hang on the wall right outside the window. The voices are loud enough for me to not only hear, but also identify here.
A voice says, “Why didn't you have Jem go before this stupid urchin?”
I knew I was right about Jem.
“She pushed her way forward,” Ranen says. “How was I supposed to know she wouldn't die? Everyone else did.”
“It doesn't matter now. We have to figure a way around this.”
“There is no way around it,” Ranen practically shouts. Does he not worry about being overheard? “Jem would have bent under my will, but this queen will have nothing to do with me. I've tried to please her—doing what she asked, to get back in her good graces—but it’s done no good. Neither have any of the assassins I've sent after her.”
I whisk in a breath. At least now I know who was behind some of them. How many did he send?
I peek around the edge. Ranen has his back to me. His partner is Borkus, the Head of Design. He's facing me, but doesn't seem to see me.
I slide in the window, move up behind Ranen, and put a knife to his throat before he knows I'm here. “You dare dishonor me?”
His partner’s mouth falls open, and he takes a step back.
“Forgive me, Your Highness. I didn't—” Ranen starts.
“No excuses.” My phrase, all too familiar—though from a master’s lips—jolts me back to the circumstances.
I yank my knife away from Ranen and snick it back into its case in my boot. Too many eyes for me to finish the job, even if it's just my own and another man's. He isn't a job anyway.
Besides, I promised not to kill. If I keep my knife out, he won't survive.
I'm about to call out, when cool metal presses against my neck. Borkus's eyes are wide. Ranen is still in front of me. Who—?
“Your Majesty will forgive me for meeting under these circumstances.” Faya's voice is soft and grandmotherly as ever, despite the fact she's holding a blade against me.
“What are you doing?” I ask, hoping to distract her so I get the upper hand. She can't be nearly as well trained as I am, but she is the one with the leverage.
She laughs. “You are a fool who's easily misled. I knew you would suspect Ranen from the start. He makes no secret of those he dislikes.”
Ranen hisses but doesn't deny her words.
“But why you, Faya? Why are you attacking me? You were always the kind one.” My words come out clear and strong.
“Kind?” She laughs, and for the first time since I met her, she sounds mad. “My only kindness is that I'm about to put you out of your misery.”
“You helped send killers after me?” I have to keep her talking. Keep her from pressing that blade any farther into me.
“Helped? No, nameless girl, Ranen and I were the ones that sent them.”
I can't help my gasp. “But why?”
“Because I want control of the country.”
“Except they just said Jem would have been the one, not you.”
“Of course Jem. I wouldn’t take the Mortum Tura and risk my life, but I had to be in a position close to the Queen. If Jem had beat you to the Mortum Tura, she would have been crowned, and together, Ranen, Borkus, and I could have controlled her.”
“I think you're mistaken. Jem would never be controlled by anyone.”
She jams the blade harder against my neck. “That's where you're wrong. She only appears strong to you to hide her own weaknesses. She relied heavily on Ranen and me. Always. Thought I was like her grandmother, who passed away years ago. I could have control of the entire country without assassins coming for my own life? But no. You had to come along and push your way forward. Had to make yourself queen. Well, no more.”
“How did you get to the assassins?” I ask, slowly going for my pocket where I have another dagger sheathed.
“It's easy. The hard part was your unexpected handling of them. If anything, I thought the poison would do you in, but we had to catch on to that as well.”
“You were the one behind the poor boy that killed himself?”
She cackles. “I took care of him. Made him write his own note and everything. You never even suspected the person who brought the trays to your rooms was the one who put the poison in your cups, but it was easy for me to do. And now, here we are, with your life in my hands.”
“Do her in, Faya,” Ranen says with a sneer. “We can't drag this out much longer. If her guard suspects she's gone missing, they’ll start a search for her.”
“Couldn't have played into our hands any better.” Borkus folds his arms and smirks at me.
I wanted to know who put the attack out on my life. I've found all three of them.
Before Faya can react, I grab my dagger out of my pocket and jam it backwards into her stomach. She drops the blade from my throat with a hiss of pain. I pull out the dagger, ready to defend myself.
“Guards,” I call out, hoping they are somewhere nearby. We're not far from my room, but there could be trouble if they don't come. Not that I can't handle a bit of trouble. Still, I back all the way up toward my entrance. Best to be prepared.
Ranen turns on me. “Grab her,” he hisses to Borkus. “Stab her in the heart.”
“I'd like to see you try,” I say as I kick back at Faya, pushing her farther from me.
Ranen comes barreling at me, clumsy and unrefined. I twist away at the last moment. Borkus grabs me from behind. I elbow him in the gut and push off him, using the momentum to punch Ranen in the chest.
Ranen grunts and falls to the ground.
“Wimp.” I want to kick him while he's down, but I do have manners. Some.
Borkus tries to escape out the hall, but the guards come at that moment and grab him before he can go anywhere. I recognize Afet and Wilric, but none of the others.
“Partnering with Ranen was a mistake,” I tell Borkus and Faya.
Faya pays me no mind. She's clutching her stomach and groaning, her fingers turning crimson where she's holding her wound.
“What happened?” Wilric asks, even as he moves toward my attackers.
“These are the three responsible for the attacks on my life.”
He looks at Faya and then turns for me. “We have to call for a healer. Unless you want her to bleed out?”
“Heal her. She can live in misery the rest of her life, knowing what she almost had.”
The guards get moving, but I turn my attention to Ranen, who's under my boot. “Do you have more attacks coming my way?”
He grunts. “Like I'd tell you.”
I push my boot down harder.
“And who is the attacker?”
He says nothing more, and I press down my boot again.
“A man by the name of Vergul. You'll find him at the Hermit's Bar.”
I release him.
“I'll get right on it.” Afet leaves the room.
“Stand up,” I say.
Ranen groans and curls up.
“Stand up now.” I want to kick him more than ever. I restrain myself. Somehow.
He struggles to his feet. Did I injure him more than I thought, or is he playing it up?
“Who else are you working with?” I ask.
“No one of consequence.” He huffs.
“Not good enough. You will give Wilric every single name if you plan on seeing daylight again after today.”
Wilric takes the hint and grabs Ranen by the upper arm. “I'll get everything out of him, Your Majesty. What do you want to happen to them?”
“I decide?” That’s not something I want responsibility over if I can help it.
“For a crime like this, yes, it is your decision.”
I nod. “Take care to get them all. I don't want more surprises. Ranen is stripped from all titles and holdings. Take him to the dungeon for ten years, then bring him to me. We'll see if he still wants to take my life then. Borkus will share the same fate. And Faya, as soon as she's healed.”
Of course, I may not be alive in ten years. I found out who was sending the assassins. That's all I wanted, right?
No. I don't want only that.
I want much more.
Chapter 40
Nash rushes to me, in my sitting room.
“I heard what happened,” he says. “Are you all right? Do I need to call for a physician?”
“I'm fine.” Though I won't stop him from showing concern. It's nice to have someone who cares about your wellness. If only I had such a person in my life sooner.
He stands back. “I'm so happy to hear it. I don't know what I would do if anything happened to you.”