Emily smiled to herself. The princess moved gracefully, like a dancer, yet there was a hint of strength in her movements that suggested she rode and hunted with the other aristocrats. Emily felt a stab of pity, even though the princess lived in luxury. Elena would be of marriageable age soon. She might be bundled off to marry a man she’d never met... who knew? The Protector might want to get her out of their hair as quickly as possible.
She sat on a chair that was too elegant to be properly comfortable. “So,” she said, resting her hands in her lap. “What do you want to talk about?”
Elena flushed. “What... how?”
Emily smiled, as reassuringly as she could. “A royal princess comes to escort me to my rooms? It’s clear she wants to have a private chat.”
“Yes, I...” Elena swallowed, hard. “Can we be overheard?”
“Give me a moment.” Emily cast a pair of privacy wards, carefully locking them in place. “Right now, no one can hear us.”
Elena nodded. “I think my stepmother murdered my father.”
Emily’s eyes narrowed. “Do you have any proof?”
“Her father keeps trying to claim more and more power for himself.” Elena’s hands twisted in her lap. “It has to be her. And him behind her. She was never my father’s true love.”
“I see,” Emily said. She understood the feeling, all too well. “But we need proof.”
“You have to find that proof,” Elena insisted. “Who else could have done it?”
Emily nodded, carefully weaving a pair of spells into the air. One to encourage the princess to talk, one to make it hard — if not impossible — for the princess to lie. The spells were subtle enough, she hoped, to remain undetected, at least by a girl who hadn’t come into her magic. She just hoped it wouldn’t occur to Elena to wonder why she was being so talkative. But then, she wouldn’t have arranged the conversation if she hadn’t wanted to talk.
“I need some background,” she said. “Tell me about your family?”
Elena looked irked, then nodded. “I was my father’s first child. Some courtiers insisted he was unhappy to have a girl, but he never showed it to me. He certainly never rejected my mother. Four years later, she had a boy. And then...”
The pain on her face made Emily’s heart twist. “She died giving birth to my brother.”
“I’m sorry,” Emily said, sincerely.
“Father had to remarry. There were a hundred possible choices, but he fell in love with... with her. Aquiline. A woman of lowly family, a woman with hundreds of relatives all wanting honors and titles and lands... a woman who rapidly gave birth to two more children. She bewitched my father. She must have. Why else would he want her?”
“I’m sure your father thought to check for magic,” Emily said. She felt another twinge of pity. Elena wouldn’t have been allowed a real childhood. She would have been watching the courtiers — and their power games — ever since she could walk. “Maybe they just fell in love.”
“He shouldn’t have,” Elena said. “That woman is a grasping...”
She let out a long breath, controlling herself. “Willis is the Dragon-in-Waiting. There’s no doubt about that. But four years is a very long time. That... hag... could kill Willis too, leaving her son in place to inherit the throne. And then she’ll be Protector and Regent until Robert grows up. And then... I don’t know. Maybe she’ll kill her own son too.”
Emily frowned. “And your uncle?”
“He knew he’d never be king,” Elena said. “He pledged himself to Willis. But he doesn’t like the queen. They’ve never got on. He was smart enough to see her as a threat.”
“I see,” Emily said. It was starting to sound like a snake pit. Or worse. “What about yourself? Do you want the crown?”
“Father promised me I could study magic,” Elena said. “Willis would need a sorcerer at his back, protecting him. That was going to be me. But if the queen and her father take power, they’ll send me away as quickly as possible. Willis needs me.”
“I understand,” Emily said. She wondered, idly, if Rogan could suggest Elena as the Protector. But Elena was still too young. “And you’re sure the queen murdered your father?”
“Yes!” Elena’s eyes were bright with tears. “Who else could have done it?”
She stood and started to pace. “She has access to the royal bedchamber. The wards would have let her come and go as she pleased. She could have enchanted him or poisoned him or... or done anything to him. No one else could have gotten inside. The wards would have stopped them.”
Emily raised her eyebrows. “Even you?”
“We’re never allowed in the royal bedchambers or my father’s private chambers,” Elena said. “The wards kept us out.”
“I see,” Emily said, carefully. The queen did seem a possible suspect. She certainly would have been close to the king when he was at his most vulnerable. And yet, if she murdered her husband, there was no guarantee she’d wind up with the protectorship. She hadn’t moved to take power in the wake of her husband’s death. If she was the murderer, she was either stupid or insanely confident. “And your uncle?”
“He’s hardly ever at court,” Elena said. “Too busy knocking heads in the north. The family has to keep someone up there or else they’ll rebel. They hate the south and everyone who lives in it.”
Emily frowned. “How so?”
“The Dragonschild lineage comes from the north,” Elena said. “They’ve never really forgiven us for moving south. Or so I’ve been told. I’ve never been up north myself.”
“I see,” I think. “Did your father get on with your uncle?”
“I think they had some minor disagreements,” Elena said, carefully. “Land was always a sore spot between them. They had a tearing row when my father married the hag. But otherwise... they’re brothers.”
Which proves nothing, Emily thought. History was littered with brothers who fought against brothers, sons who rose up against their fathers... pretenders who became monarchs only to be overthrown in turn. Her uncle could easily have carried out the murder himself and blamed it on the queen.
She stared down at her hands. “You mentioned the queen’s father,” she said. “What’s he like?”
“Greedy,” Elena said. Her face twisted with hatred. “Whatever he has, he wants more. I’d bet he was the person who threw the woman at my father. He’s used his kinship to the queen to make himself rich and powerful and, no matter what he has, it’s never enough.”
“I know the type,” Emily said. She doubted the queen had enchanted the king. A love spell or potion would have set off alarms. But she could easily believe her father had encouraged her to seduce the king. Anne Boleyn had certainly seduced Henry VIII, taking advantage of his desperation to beget a male heir. “And... do you think your uncle would make a good protector?”
Elena frowned. “I don’t know,” she said. “But he’d be better than the queen or her father.”
Emily watched the princess as she sat back down, smoothing out her dress. Elena believed everything she was saying, but... it didn’t mean she was telling the objective truth. Emily had hated and feared her stepfather for years, with far less than an entire kingdom resting on the match. She understood Elena might well hate her stepmother, even if she didn’t have an objective reason to hate. Her conviction the queen was a murderer wasn’t proof of anything, Emily reminded herself. It was easy to sympathize with the princess. But Emily couldn’t let herself be swayed.
A handful of possible suspects, none of whom moved to take advantage of the king’s death, she thought. Her mind kept returning to that, again and again. Could it be the king’s death truly was an accident?
She considered it quickly. Accidents happened. She knew that as well as anyone. Accidents happened and, sometimes, they changed the course of history. A king fell off a horse and cracked his skull, a prince sailed into a storm and drowned, a queen died in childbirth... no one could have predicted the deaths, yet they changed the worlds a
round them. One moment, everyone knew their place; the next, everything was in flux.
And yet, Rogan said they found traces of dark magic on the king, she mused. That couldn’t have been an accident.
Her mind raced. Rogan was right. Putting a murderer in power would be disastrous. And yet... if they couldn’t identify the murderer, they might have no choice. And then... she considered the options, as she knew them. The queen had a strong motive to push her son’s claim to the throne, even if it meant displacing her stepson; the duke had a strong motive to put his nephew aside and take power for himself. Who knew what would happen when the king assumed power in his own right? She doubted anyone would want to take a chance on him ruling wisely, or even leaving the status quo in place.
“Lady Emily?” Elena sounded doubtful. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m considering ways to get proof,” Emily said. “We need to prove the murderer’s guilt beyond all doubt.”
“Search her chambers,” Elena said. “She never lets anyone into her private room.”
“Neither do I,” Emily pointed out. “Does that make me the murderer?”
Elena colored. “My Lady, you’re a sorceress. The hag is pretending to be a queen. She should have ladies attending on her at all times. She should have demanded that I wait on her. I’m the senior lady of the court. Why doesn’t she have me helping her to dress?”
Because you clearly hate her, Emily thought, and you’d be holding something sharp far too close to her neck.
She kept her face impassive. The queen might have the right to demand service from her stepdaughter, but a wise queen — one who’d picked up on her stepdaughter’s hatred — might have decided to quietly let it pass. It wasn’t as if she needed to push too hard to establish the pecking order. She was already above every other woman at court, save — perhaps — for the king’s daughter.
“I’ll have to ask her,” she said, neutrally. “But that doesn’t prove anything.”
“It’s suspicious,” Elena insisted.
Emily shook her head. Alassa had complained, time and time again, of the sheer lack of privacy at court. There were eyes everywhere, from courtiers to maids and manservants who could be bribed or coerced into spilling the beans. They monitored everything, from her needlework to her periods. Alassa had put a stop to that when she’d become queen. Emily didn’t blame her. She wouldn’t have willingly spent her entire life in a goldfish bowl.
And I don’t blame the queen for wanting a little privacy from time to time, Emily thought. She would have known she couldn’t trust her servants.
“Tell me about the rest of your family,” she said. “How many others are there?”
Elena gave her a sharp look, as if she’d expected Emily to know the answer already. “Willis and I are my father’s legitimate heirs,” she said. “The hag gave birth to Eve and Robert, the bastards. Eve’s eight. Robert is four. He’s technically second in line to the throne.”
“They’re not legal bastards,” Emily pointed out.
“Ha.” Elena glared at the wall. “The line of succession runs Willis-Robert-Uncle Hardcastle. It should run Willis-Hardcastle. Uncle’s got a couple of boys of his own. Either one could carry on the family line if something happens to Willis.”
And that’s a motive for your uncle to take the throne himself, Emily mused. He might tell himself it’s for his children, rather than himself.
“There’s no one else, no one who has a direct claim,” Elena said. “A number of families up north can claim a kinship to the royal line, but... their claims are vague. There’s no one who has enough of a claim to put himself ahead of the pack. It would be a nightmare.”
“I can imagine,” Emily said. “And what about Parliament?”
Elena snorted. “Parliament just wants to paper over the cracks until Willis is old enough to rule,” she said. “Sir Mowbray is an old man. He’s not going to provide strong leadership if we go to war. He’s not going to be able to keep the northerners under control. He needs to be put out to pasture, not put into power. Parliament... is weak and useless.”
Perhaps, Emily thought. We’ll see.
She leaned back in her chair. “You have my word that I will do everything in my power to find your father’s murderer,” she said. “Whoever they happen to be.”
“Start by searching the hag’s chambers,” Elena said, again. “She works her spells there.”
“She’s had quite long enough to hide or destroy anything incriminating,” Emily said. “Is she a magician?”
“She has power,” Elena said. “I don’t know how much.”
Which makes her a prospective suspect, Emily thought. But she was already a suspect, wasn’t she?
There was a sharp knock at the door. Elena started. “I... you can’t tell them what I said.”
“I won’t,” Emily promised. She quietly banished her spells, then raised her voice. “Come in!”
A stern-faced woman in a long dark dress opened the door and stepped into the room. She looked hard and cold, her black hair in a tight bun and her face so angular that she seemed to look down on everyone. The curtsy she dropped to Emily was so precise Emily thought she could hear the woman’s dress creasing. A governess, she guessed. Elena’s minder, at least until she went to school or married. She felt another pang of sympathy for the princess. The woman seemed the type to believe that sparing the rod spoiled the child.
“Lady Ash,” Elena said. “I...”
“You are late for your recitation, Your Highness,” Lady Ash said. Her voice seemed to grow colder. “I do trust you have not been bothering Lady Emily?”
“It’s quite all right.” Emily stood. “I enjoyed her company.”
Lady Ash looked as if she wanted to say something, but didn’t dare. Emily could sense hints of magic around her, nowhere near strong enough to be a serious threat. She could turn a mundane into a toad, but a first-year student should be able to make mincemeat out of her. Things would change, when — if — Elena went to school. Emily wondered if the governess was bright enough to realize it.
“This way, Your Highness,” Lady Ash said. “Now.”
She dropped another curtsy to Emily, then marched her charge out of the room. Her hand twitched, as if she wanted to grab Elena by the ear. Emily frowned as the door banged closed, wondering who’d appointed the governess. The king? The queen? It could be either of them. The king might want to make sure his daughter’s governess didn’t go easy on her.
Or the queen wanted to keep her eldest stepchild under tight supervision, Emily reflected, grimly. Elena would have had to plan carefully just to get away long enough to meet me.
There was another — lighter — knock. “Come in!”
Silent stepped into the room, her eyes lowered. “My Lady,” she said. She sounded tired, even though it hadn’t been that long since she’d arrived. “You have a dinner invitation. The queen requests the pleasure of your company in the regal dining room, one hour from now.”
Which could be anything from a private chamber to a massive dining hall, Emily reflected, crossly. She isn’t wasting any time, is she?
“Very good,” she said. She rubbed her forehead. Teleport lag was starting to get to her. She’d have to force herself to sleep when night fell or she’d be really out of sorts in the morning. “I’ll freshen up, then go.”
“Yes, My Lady,” Silent said.
“And while I’m gone, I want you to request books about the kingdom,” Emily said, after a moment. She knew she was flying blind. She needed to know what she was dealing with before it was too late. “Histories. Biographies. Lines of succession. Anything that might give me — give us — some background information.”
“Yes, My Lady,” Silent said, again. “Do you want me to unpack your trunk?”
“Not yet,” Emily said. She wasn’t the only one suffering from teleport lag. “Get something to eat. You can deal with it later.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
EMILY KEPT H
ER EYES OPEN, LOOKING around with interest as the queen’s maid led her through a maze of corridors. The dragon imagery was truly everywhere, from the guardsmens’ armor to the flags hanging on the walls. Emily wasn’t sure what to make of it. No one she’d met, not even King Randor or Vesperian, had put their heraldry everywhere. It suggested a certain insecurity. And the castle was meant to be their stronghold...
She frowned as they walked past a pair of guards who bowed their heads in salute. There were guards everywhere, as if the queen — or whoever was calling the shots — expected to be attacked at any moment. Who was in charge of the Royal Guard? The king was dead. His heir was a minor child. The queen? The duke? Someone Elena hadn’t thought to mention? Emily hoped it wasn’t the latter. A person in command of a small army could do one hell of a lot of mischief, if no one thought he might be a threat until it was too late.
The maid opened a door into a small dining room. “Lady Emily, Baroness Cockatrice, Necromancer’s Bane, Child of Destiny,” she said loudly, in much the same manner Void had. “Lady Emily, Her Majesty Queen Aquiline the Queen Dowager.”
Emily scanned the room. A middle-aged woman — the queen, she assumed — stood to greet her. Elena sat at the table, looking thoroughly displeased. A pair of young boys — one little more than a toddler — sat beside their older sister; a smaller girl looked down at the table, unwilling to even look at Emily. Willis, Robert and Eve, Emily guessed. The queen had gone to some lengths to make it look like a simple family dinner.
“Lady Emily,” Queen Aquiline said. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Thank you,” Emily said, awkwardly.
She studied the queen thoughtfully as she indicated a chair. Queen Aquiline was short, blonde and absolutely stunning. She wore mourning blacks, as was fitting for a woman who’d lost her husband, but they were cut tightly to show off her breasts and hips. Emily suspected the look was more alluring than a woman who showed off bare skin. She had to admit the queen had a presence. It was easy to believe the king had fallen in love with her.
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