The golden vines may be tempting to look at, but I’ve learned that everything in this castle is insidious. Every tangled trail and curling bloom is nothing but a baited trap.
Lady Helayna digs into her pocket and pulls out a handkerchief, wiping at her watery eyes as we head for the door. “Yes, I miss my Ike. He was a good man.”
He was a cheater like all the rest, though I keep that thought to myself.
My head dips. “I was very sorry to have missed his burial.”
“Oh, I didn’t presume to expect your attendance, Your Majesty. You’re so busy managing the kingdom,” she assures me, tucking her handkerchief away.
She pauses before we can make our escape to the door, noting the cage built on the other end of the room, the bars stretching all the way to the hidden hallway at the back.
“Strange,” she murmurs, gaze pausing on the pile of silken pillows still lying on the ground, as if Tyndall’s pet is still around to laze on them day and night.
When my husband told me he’d be expanding Auren’s cages to allow her entry to the atrium, I was livid. This room, even though I detest it now for what he’s turned it into, it’s still mine.
My mother cared for these plants that were so carelessly killed, choked inside metallic coffins. This was the room where she died, her bed brought up so she could be amongst all the green, thriving growth, breathing in the perfumed blossoms on her dying breath.
Tyndall threw it all in my face by bringing her in here. By letting her look up at the windows my mother lived and died beneath.
Perhaps that was when I truly started to hate him.
“Your Majesty?”
I blink over at Lady Helayna in surprise. I hadn’t even realized I was still stopped, staring at the cage.
Shaking my head, I give her another practiced smile. “Pardon. I was just watching the storm begin to break,” I lie, purposely flicking my gaze past the cage to the windows instead.
She nods knowingly, her gaze moving up to watch the thickening snow as it begins to pile over the dome, casting us in hues of gray—a somber sky. “I should go before the storm gets worse.”
“Let me walk you down.”
We pass by four of my guards on either side of the atrium’s doorway, their sure footsteps following behind us as we begin the long journey down the stairs.
“Thank you for inviting me to tea and for the tour of your atrium, Your Majesty.”
“Of course. I do hope you’ll come again,” I reply.
I wait, hoping for her to bring up the one topic we’ve both been dancing around all afternoon, but she says nothing. My teeth start clenching together again.
By the time we reach the first floor, Lady Helayna’s handmaidens are already there, waiting with her coat and hat. She draws her mourning veil back up, hooking it to the hat that her lady places on her head, features going muddled behind the sheer black fabric that drapes over her face.
Once she’s helped into her coat, she turns to me. I keep the pleasant smile on my face, though beneath it, I’m fuming, going over everything I could have done or said differently, wondering if another tactic would’ve worked. Calculating which of the nobles might still be swayed even without her.
Lady Helayna curtsies, her dress sweeping across the worn golden floors. “My queen.”
I give her my hand, though my smile is tight. An entire day. I wasted an entire day on her and—
Her grip tightens on mine in a friendly squeeze, face slightly obscured as she leans in conspiratorially. “You have my full support of ruling Sixth in your husband’s stead.”
I pause, the cool, smooth victory spreading through me like fresh ice. The cold is a balm to my spirit, a win that brings me that much closer to keeping control.
I may not have been born with magic, but I’m going to prove to Tyndall, to my court, to my entire kingdom, that I hold my own kind of power. With it, Sixth Kingdom will become stronger than ever. I will become stronger than ever.
“The fact that any of the other noble houses are hesitant is beyond me,” she says, and I can almost feel the roll of her eyes. “A Colier has ruled Sixth for generations and will continue to do so. You can rule here, while the king continues to aid Fifth Kingdom and secure our borders.”
This time, the smile that curls my lips is genuine. Having a female head of house is a rare thing, and I knew it was the perfect opportunity to gain a foothold inside the noble circles. A simple afternoon of pandering, and I’ve got her.
Having the countess in my corner will make it easier to gain the trust of the other noblewomen. I know for a fact that they all speak to one another, and Lady Helayna is the one they look to as a leader amongst them. If I can get all of the women on my side, it’ll be a major victory.
The women might not all be the heads of their houses, but they speak into the ears of the men who are. If done right, those whispered encouragements can become the subconscious thoughts of ignorant men.
“You have my thanks, Lady Helayna. The crown is ever grateful for your support.”
“We women have to stick together,” she says, a coy smile barely visible behind her veil. “Have a pleasant day, Your Majesty.”
“And you,” I reply with a conspiratorial tilt of my head.
The moment Lady Helayna is gone, my advisors come in, like birds of prey dropping in a swoop. “Your Majesty.”
“I’ve got Lady Helayna’s backing,” I say smugly, looking at the three of them. Barthal, Wilcox, and Uwen—advisors to my husband who were left behind to run Highbell. Now, they answer to me.
“You do?” Wilcox asks, clear disbelief on his aged face.
I nod. “As I told you before, gentleman, there is nothing wrong with me ruling in my husband’s absence.”
“Of course, my queen,” Uwen says, hand holding the belt at his hip to keep his stomach from overflowing over the top of it. “Our concern was simply that King Midas gave us very clear instructions. We were to continue business as usual and send a hawk for any concerns as well as regular updates. He was to make the decisions, and—”
“I will be making the decisions.”
I’ve been working nonstop to tighten my tentative hold on the kingdom, and the three of them are my most vocal doubters. Which is why I’ve been doing everything in my power to prove them wrong, to put them in their place.
“As I told you before, we have no need for hawks. Any updates and concerns will come to me,” I tell them.
I turn and begin to walk up the stairs, though I get immense pleasure from the fact that they start hurrying after me, like trained dogs come to heel.
“But the nobles...” Barthal begins.
“The nobles, as I have shown you all week, are loyal to the Colier family,” I say firmly, my steps silent on the golden carpet.
“You have met with many nobles this week, that is true,” Barthal admits.
“Yes, and not one of them has any doubt that Sixth Kingdom is in good hands,” I point out.
“Yet, I fear that the shift in power you are enacting in the kingdom will worry some of these noble families, and we can’t afford any dissent,” Uwen puts in.
I stop, whirling on the three of them at the second floor landing, my guards halting a pace behind. “Look around you. Highbell can afford anything.” My tone is harsh, my eyes cold. “If there is any dissent in the future, I will handle it, but for now, continue setting up meetings. I want to see a member of every single strong-standing noble family in Highbell.”
They look amongst themselves, burning with the question that they don’t dare ask. They know better than to directly inquire about what my intentions are with gaining personal support from the nobles.
But they know. They at least suspect that I plan to make these changes permanent. To make the people answer to me instead of him.
My husband might have the golden touch and the silver tongue, but I have the blood and the history. It was my ancestors who rule
d this kingdom.
As a Colier, I know everything there is to know about this land and the families of Highbell, and I know how to manipulate their loyalty.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Uwen replies with a bow.
I look down at them coolly. “Now, unless you plan on following me to my personal chambers, I think we’re finished today. I’m tired, and you still have to answer those inquiries I drew up. I’m waiting for those findings.”
Wilcox scratches the whiskers on his chin. “About that, Your Majesty. The questions about our forces...”
“I want them all answered, Wilcox.”
“Yes, but...” He hesitates, sharing another look with the other two, but they leave him high and dry. Uwen suddenly finds the floor fascinating, while Barthal is busy fixing his lapel.
Wilcox sighs and looks back at me. “Forgive me if I’m speaking out of turn, but those inquiries...it sounds as if you plan to prepare for war.”
I flash him a benign smile and take a decisive step down. One stair, then two, until I’m directly in front of him. He freezes, blue eyes wide as I reach up to straighten the Sixth Kingdom insignia on his tunic, the metal brooch pinned through the middle of his collar. I close my fingers around it tight enough that he flinches.
I suppress a smile while I move to tighten his collar, fix the position of the gleaming gold bell at his throat. “Do you recall what King Colier, my late father, said?”
Wilcox swallows audibly, his throat moving with a nervous bob as he shakes his head.
“He said, ‘Foolish is the king who does not prepare for attack. From outsiders, as well as those within.’” I drop my hand, eyes lifting up to his face that’s gone pale. “Don’t you agree that’s good advice, Wilcox?”
A shaky, nervous breath comes from between thin lips, but he manages a nod. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
Casting a casual glance at the other two, I note their shock—the sweat on Uwen’s bushy brows, the paled face of Barthal.
One carefully worded statement, and I’ve issued my warnings. I consider every ally as a potential threat, and I won’t hesitate to end anyone who goes against me.
“I expect an answer to my inquiries soon. That will be all, gentlemen,” I say in clear dismissal, enjoying every part of their discomfort as my guards follow me, moving past my dumbstruck advisors.
I turn at the second floor railing, hand curving over the banister as I look down on them. “Oh, and all hawks have been suspended from use as of today. No messages will be allowed in or out without my direct approval.”
The sight of their slack-jawed faces nearly makes me smile. I turn, satisfaction brewing through me as I stride for my chambers, knowing that every day I spend, every maneuver I make, I’m that much closer to tightening my grasp over Highbell.
By the time Tyndall tries to return to Sixth Kingdom, it will be far too late.
Chapter 19
AUREN
I’m sick.
I don’t know if I caught something from the horde of soldiers or if it’s the stress or if it’s simply that my body just can’t take being out in the endless cold anymore. Whatever it is, my brain feels like it’s ready to thump out of my skull.
I haven’t felt sick like this in a long time, but it brings back bad memories of Zakir. I was sick a lot back then—all the children were.
His business of buying us to run his beggar scheme was good for his bottom line, but apparently, not good enough to want to take proper care of us. We just had to suffer through it, because he certainly didn’t give us a day off. He said people were more likely to feel sorry for sick children, anyway.
There were a lot of us, tightly packed together in the cold and sometimes even wet sleeping arrangements, never with enough food, hygiene less than stellar.
I don’t even like to think about the times I had to dig for tossed out leftovers. Garbage. I ate garbage sometimes.
Even then, kids would steal it from you if you tried to stash it away; it didn’t matter how much gunk was gathered on it. No wonder sickness ran rampant.
Still, I hate feeling weaker than I already am. All I can do is sleep it off and hope no one notices that I’m even more vulnerable than before.
I nearly snort. If there’s one thing the commander is aware of, it’s my vulnerabilities. The saddles too, for that matter.
It’s been three days since Rissa set the price for her silence. But in those three days, I haven’t seen Commander Rip once, except for his sleeping silhouette when I sneak out of the tent every morning before dawn.
I’ve tried to go visit the saddles again every night once we stop traveling. Twice I was turned away. Last night, the guards who saw me with Lu were on duty, so they allowed me a short visit, but that was almost worse.
The girls wouldn’t even look at me except to spew their frustrations about my freedom to walk around versus their inability to leave their crowded tent.
At least I was able to confirm that no soldier has tried to use them yet.
I want to keep trying, to break through to them and let them see that I’m not their enemy, but the effort is always so disheartening because it never gets me anywhere.
If anything, they’ve just started hating me more.
Yet they’re not the only reason why I’ve been making it a point to visit. It’s also so that I can continue my search for the messenger hawks.
I make sure to go a different way every time, to continue to map the camp. They set it up nearly the same every single night. It would be easy if this army weren’t so damn big.
But the thought of trekking around in the snow right now and then dealing with the saddles makes me groan in exhaustion.
I’ll give myself the night off and pick back up tomorrow, when it doesn’t feel like the commander’s spikes are stabbing through my head.
Speak of the devil...
The carriage door opens, and I squint over at Rip, his silhouette dusted with the light of dusk.
No armor today, leather coat frosted at the edges, his black hair windswept and his spikes nowhere to be seen.
“Does it hurt when you keep those in?” I blurt.
Rip glances down at the arm I’m looking at, like he’s surprised his spikes aren’t out—or maybe that I asked about them. “No.”
“Hmm.” I lick my dry lips and swallow with a twinge of pain but then remember what I really wanted to talk to him about. I pick my head up straighter when I realize I’ve slumped a bit. “I want to know where Midas’s guards are.”
“Do you?” he asks in a gravelly voice, shoulder leaning against the doorframe. “Well, I’d like to know who your closest friends were in Sixth Kingdom.”
I blink at him through stinging eyes, my mind a little slower than normal at processing his words. Even when I do, I’m still confused. “Why do you always ask the strangest questions about me? Why do you want to know that?” My tone is both bewildered and defensive.
“Is it the saddles you’ve been visiting?”
So he knows I’ve visited them. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised at that, though I am that he’s allowed it to go on.
A chuff escapes me as I tilt my head down, fingers coming up to rub my burning eyes. “Oh, yeah. They adore me. We braid each other’s hair while trading stories about Midas in bed.”
Great Divine, did I just say that? I must be sicker than I thought.
I hear a rasp of a chuckle. “Interesting.”
My hand drops away, the scraping talons against my skull making my eyes sensitive even in the dim light. “What’s interesting?”
“Interesting that you should attempt to visit them every night when you wouldn’t consider them your friends. Makes one wonder why.”
I bristle, suddenly wishing that we could’ve made it to day four without interacting. I’m just not that lucky, I guess.
“Are you going to block me in this carriage all night, or can I get out? I’m tired.”
Rip’s he
ad tilts to the side, the short spikes along his brow line more pronounced. “Tired? You’re usually chomping at the bit to go eat and visit the saddles.”
“Yeah, well, as you pointed out, they’re not my friends, so I’ll just save myself the trip,” I snap.
This male makes my headache so much worse.
Black eyes narrow as he studies me closely, gaze smoothing over my body from head to toe. “Are you ill?”
“I’m fine. Now, if you don’t mind...” I look pointedly where he’s still blocking the doorway.
I’m surprised when he actually steps aside to let me out. Dusk is still the victor against night, the last of the graying light quickly fading. I take in a deep breath, the fresh air making me feel so much better after being stuck in the stagnant carriage all day.
My teeth begin to chatter, and I band my arms around myself like a shield, trying to hold in a shiver, trying to create a layer of armor against this male. He has a way of making me feel like he’s peeling away my layers, seeing what I want to hide. And right now, I don’t feel well enough to fend him off, to keep up with his battle-minded tactics.
Thankfully, the tent is already set up, erected right beside the carriage. I want to collapse on the pallet under a pile of furs and not come out until my head stops pounding.
I take one step toward it, but my vision suddenly swims, pain lancing through my forehead. I squeeze my eyes shut and stumble, my legs like jelly.
Rip’s hand lashes out lightning-quick, fingers curling around my arm. His catch steadies me, freezes me in place. The disorienting feeling is swept away from my head, like his touch is a chain to an anchor I thought had broken away. I teeter, a boat in the water, reeling as that anchoring grip holds steady, keeping me upright.
A split second later, I realize my mistake—dependent on his hold as I am. Eyes springing open, I whirl, yanking my arm from his grasp.
“Don’t touch me!” I hiss, looking around wildly, my heart nearly beating right out of my chest as I glance at the sky.
A dizzying feeling comes over me again, but I lift my hands in front of me to ward him off.
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