Queen of Coin and Whispers

by Helen Corcoran

  This was more than refusing to let her steal grain. ‘Please, tell me what I’ll refuse to believe.’ I picked up the coffeepot again, determined to play out this scene as I’d intended, and poured.

  Diana dropped sugar lumps into her cup – plink plink plink – until it was barely drinkable. ‘We had to wait,’ she said, ‘for the King to die. We were convinced you’d bring change. You often pressed him for new legislation, persistent but polite so he wouldn’t consider you a threat.’

  ‘He didn’t take any notice.’

  ‘We noticed.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘Those of us trying to do better than our predecessors. We don’t mourn your uncle’s reign. We don’t treat the lower classes as things to manipulate for our benefit. You have similar goals. You emptied your stores to keep your estate fed, when your uncle didn’t care that people would starve. You curbed your aunt’s greed. You fought Vigrante’s entitlement.’ She smiled bitterly. ‘The Master of Coin adores you – he’d marry you if he didn’t love his husband.’

  ‘Good to know,’ I said, trying for humour and braced for the but.

  ‘Now. Well.’ Diana’s expression hardened. ‘We’re no longer fooled. You settled into royal comfort as easily as your uncle did, more concerned about the marriage dance than Vigrante. When I offered a solution to this year’s harvests, you preferred keeping up appearances–’

  ‘I refused because I’d already negotiated through legal avenues,’ I said sharply.

  Diana continued as if I hadn’t spoken. ‘When bringing change grew too difficult, you stopped. Faced with Vigrante’s death, you reacted like him, despite claiming to hate his methods. It’s worse because you wanted to be better. You wanted to do more.’

  She didn’t know the harvests had failed worse than last year’s, or she’d have already insisted on doing things her way, whether I approved or not. With this self-righteous lecture, I could hardly broach the subject. If the Eshvon caravans didn’t arrive soon, the price of bread would soar by winter.

  I’d been ready to admit I was wrong. But now I trusted her almost as little as Vigrante.

  I wanted to throw the coffeepot in Diana’s face. She’d refused to participate in politics for so long, while I’d spent months fighting Vigrante with the little Opposition support offered me. I’d forced him to pay a death price to the Riavaan family, even if I hadn’t publicly punished him.

  After rising through the ranks, Diana had commanded the navy for almost a decade. Her predecessor had improved the competent, yet largely apathetic force, but Diana had turned it into a significant threat.

  I shouldn’t have ignored her because now I couldn’t.

  But, like I had before I took the throne, she thought politicians could be easily convinced to usher in reform. But they wouldn’t be hammered or threatened into embracing change. It was a slow, painful process. The Government wasn’t trained to obey like the Navy. When things turned uncertain or strained, there was no loyalty or trust.

  ‘Patience,’ I said, ‘is a virtue.’

  Diana returned my smile. ‘So is my sword.’

  ‘You assume I’ll give up my family’s legacy so easily?’

  ‘You value your life. Keep on this path, and your line will end with you.’

  I hadn’t become Vigrante’s puppet. I wouldn’t be Diana’s, either.

  Surely the Government had one politician who didn’t expect the best or worst from me? One – just one – willing to work with me to help Edar?

  ‘Unless memory fails me,’ I said, ‘you didn’t attempt to overthrow my uncle.’

  ‘We considered it, but you were too young to inherit the throne.’

  ‘And my father was dead.’

  ‘Your father, who loved Edar so much, he only returned when there was no doubt your uncle wouldn’t have his own heir.’

  She could belittle Uncle all she wanted, but mocking Father was too much. ‘My mother would have been my regent until I came of age.’

  ‘A lady more concerned with your clothes and marriage prospects than ruling.’

  Yes, my mother, who’d taught me clothing was a different kind of armour, marriage another kind of weapon. My mother who, at this moment, was quietly learning everything she could about Diana. She wouldn’t have been the Queen I wanted to be, but it didn’t make her useless. I knew better now.

  Beyond the immediate fury of Diana dismissing both my parents, what she’d said before was more troubling. This shadowy group of insurgents, of whom she was my only proof, had considered toppling my uncle. I’d no doubt she was lying about my father: he’d have given Edar a solid foundation for me to continue with. His death was their biggest blow, they simply refused to admit it.

  I would not be intimidated by her. It didn’t matter that we wanted the same things for Edar, and Diana had no intention of keeping the nobles’ privileges secure – they’d believe what they wanted. A careful word here and there, and she could turn them against me, so convinced of her righteousness that she’d alienate her true ally: me.

  And the Navy would obey her over me, of course.

  I almost laughed at the irony. For all her disdain for Vigrante, she used similar tactics. How foolish of me to think I could win Parliament to my side.

  I stood. ‘We will consider what you’ve said–’

  Her eyes flashed, but she stood. ‘You dare–’

  ‘We both have Edar’s best interests at heart,’ I said, ‘even if we disagree on methods. We need to work together. But I didn’t back down against Vigrante. I won’t for you, either.’

  Diana clenched and unclenched her hands. ‘Very well, Your Majesty. But if I were you, I’d think hard about how you’ve come to this point.’

  ‘I couldn’t have done worse if I’d run her through with a sword.’

  Xania sighed. ‘You know, if you want me to read these’ – she waved the Aella novel in the air – ‘going over what we already discussed isn’t helpful.’

  I pressed my cheek against her shoulder. ‘I could tell you the plots and we could act them out.’ I smiled, despite the fluttering worry in my stomach that hadn’t left since meeting Diana. ‘It’d be much quicker.’

  ‘I’m not sure about quicker… This is what you really think about when you’re elbow-deep in paperwork, isn’t it?’

  ‘You don’t think about me?’ I tried for mock-outrage, but Xania dug her fingers in my hair, laughing, and guided my mouth to hers. The kiss started slow, teasing, until I had to brace myself above her with trembling arms, our breathing harsh. We finally pulled away, gasping, and I slumped beside her.

  ‘She’s worse than Vigrante.’ I pulled Xania closer, wrapping the blanket around us. ‘He thought he could eventually persuade me into working with him. She doesn’t.’

  ‘Diana underestimates you.’

  ‘Does she? She’s been right so far. It’s late autumn. I took the throne last spring, and what have I accomplished? I’m still at odds with Parliament, and I’m nowhere near marrying.’

  Xania propped herself up on an elbow. ‘If change was so easy, every monarch would live to see their grandchildren, and we wouldn’t use diplomacy to outsmart each other. Wait until your first year is over, then start panicking.’

  ‘Wise words.’

  ‘One of us has to be sensible.’

  We settled into silence as I traced lazy circles on her hip.

  ‘I think there’s a link between Hazell and Rassa,’ she said.

  ‘Of course. Wonderful.’

  ‘It complicates things.’

  ‘That’s an understatement.’

  ‘Patrinne’s looking into it. I’ll try and bribe Hazell’s other servant. We need to know about all his visitors.’

  Xania hadn’t said anything about my disastrous attempt to court the Parliament and Step nobles, though I could practically see the I told you so lodged in Matthias’s throat whenever he clapped eyes on me. Nothing could ease the shame coating the back of my throat.

  ‘Are you m
eeting your mother tomorrow?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes. Let’s hope the Court has interesting opinions on the Admiral of Casa High.’

  ‘I’m meeting Lariux tomorrow. We should compare notes.’

  I kissed her forehead, her lips, her neck. ‘Matthias will bring the brandy.’

  She attempted a laugh, trailing a hand down my cheek.

  I kissed her palm, and intertwined our fingers. ‘We either convince Diana to reconsider and work with me, or we destroy her.’

  I’d always assumed, when I became Queen, that I’d have more options than manipulate or kill. But it always came back to them, no matter how I tried to change the path.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Xania

  ‘What sort of man clears his debts?’

  Lauriux was all bright eyes, powerful gestures, and rhetorical questions. Never mind a merchant, he should have been an academic.

  I drained my third cup of tea. ‘An innocent man who fears his creditors?’

  ‘A man with no debts either knows he’s about to die, or he’s preparing to flee the country.’

  I poured fresh tea and dumped sugar into it, desperate to avoid an unintentional nap. Lia’s bedroom suffered from winter like the rest of the palace. She was used to harsher weather, but more than happy to take advantage of my hatred of cold. It made for nights with less sleep, but I could hardly complain. ‘Yes, well, Vigrante didn’t so much clear his debts as manipulate them.’

  ‘Perhaps Vigrante was preparing to flee,’ Lariux said, ‘but died before he could.’

  ‘Why flee? He could handle his creditors.’

  Lariux stuffed a cake into his mouth. Now that he was a soon-to-be baron, our working partnership had relaxed. He swallowed. ‘Even his mistakes could come back to kill him.’

  I ripped a cake to shreds with my fork. ‘Your way with words is beautiful.’

  ‘I was a poet in a former life.’ He smiled, but didn’t lose his serious expression.

  I sighed. ‘You’re wearing your I have bad news face. Get it over with.’

  This week had been all about I have bad news:

  Matthias: ‘I have bad news, Vigrante’s financial discrepancies are worse than we thought.’

  Lia: ‘I have bad news, I must dance with Aubrey for Midwinter.’

  My relatively new foreign spies: ‘We have bad news, we appear to be dead.’

  Lariux handed me a leather folder. I unknotted the straps, trying to ignore the foreboding creeping up my back.

  The folder was stuffed with receipts for clothing, furniture, and entertaining: the staples of a wealthy noble. I carefully sorted through them for the link that had to be there.

  I finally found it in a third of the receipts: a different bank account.

  ‘Many of the high Step families have several bank accounts,’ I said. ‘It’s not illegal.’ In this, I was Mama’s daughter.

  ‘Of course. Until I discovered that bank account’ – Lariux pointed to the receipts I’d separated out – ‘previously belonged to the old King.’

  I went still.

  ‘Before his death, the King agreed that deserving nobles – Vigrante’s allies, of course – should get financial incentives.’

  ‘The Queen revoked it because of lack of Treasury funds.’ I’d had to endure Lia’s rants when Vigrante tried to weasel it by her again a few weeks ago.

  ‘It appears Vigrante was... less than forthcoming about minor details,’ Lariux said. ‘Ownership of the account was transferred to him a month before the King died.’

  That explained where Lia’s redecorating and wardrobe budgets had gone.

  ‘So the King didn’t inform the Master of Coin of the account transfer?’

  ‘No. The royal family have their own bank accounts, which are not part of the Treasury budgets, though the Master of Coin is aware of them. The Queen should have inherited it.’

  I rested my chin on my fist. ‘Lying through omission to Her Majesty isn’t justifiable treason, or she’d have to condemn half the Court.’

  ‘Of course.’ But Lariux’s eyes gleamed with smugness. ‘Except all those businesses he purchased from don’t actually exist.’

  Shadow accounts. Vigrante had been sending royal money to Farezi under the pretence of purchasing items abroad. ‘So no one would think twice at foreign account numbers.’

  ‘Ah, your father would be pleased with you. I’ve gone as far as I can, but if the Master of Whispers were to investigate further, I’d bet the accounts are all Farezi.’

  The receipts practically glowed with a new light: physical proof of the discrepancies Coin had uncovered, funnelled into an account he’d thought still belonged to the King. I’d bet my dowry when he compared the amounts, they’d match the ‘mistakes’. And it was more proof of a link between Vigrante and Farezi.

  ‘Thank you, Lariux,’ I said. ‘I’ll give these to the Master of Whispers immediately.’

  ‘Glad to be of service, Miss Bayonn.’

  I smiled. ‘Xania. I think we’re beyond formality now, don’t you?’

  ‘If so…’ He hesitated, and I paused from retying the leather folder. ‘I’m grateful you suggested to the Master of Whispers that I help with investigating Vigrante’s murder. And for Her Majesty raising me to the Steps, of course.’

  ‘You’re a good agent, Lariux. One of my best.’

  ‘There’s… a great deal of faith in you from powerful people.’ Lariux’s confidence had turned into cautious determination. ‘And I also have the utmost faith in you.’

  He knew I was more than a link in the spy chain. He probably suspected I was Whispers.

  ‘I appreciate your faith. As, no doubt, does the Master of Whispers, and Her Majesty. Faith helps most in our line of work.’ A lie: caution helped us most.

  Lariux smiled at my delicate sidestep. We stood, said our goodbyes, and I rushed to Matthias.

  Winter deepened, its freezing winds and frost-tipped fingers changing to layers of snow trodden into sleek treachery.

  The investigation into Vigrante’s death dragged and crumbled. We followed leads and hunches, but a line of enemies had trailed after Vigrante. Had the opportunity presented itself, too many in Court would have gladly killed him.

  Lia sometimes treated his death as a personal insult. Both of us were steeped in bitterness that he had avoided justice, no matter his violent end.

  News of the failed harvests finally leaked. The initial panic had simmered with reports that the Eshvon caravans were near our border with Farezi. We’d have just enough grain to avoid obscene price hikes.

  Midwinter arrived too soon.

  Aubrey would be Lia’s first Midwinter dance, her second, and her third. He’d have the majority of them, hinting that he was her favoured choice before the official announcement at the end of Midwinter. Despite Diana’s criticism, Lia needed to show the Court she was still focused on the future benefits of a strong marriage. I’d be in the crowd, watching, nowhere close to her.

  But while I wasn’t Lia’s favoured choice in public, our families knew I was in private, so certain expectations had to be met. Lord Martain ignored my protests and crunched figures with Mama to see how much they could spend on new gowns for Zola and me.

  The dark blue silk was too expensive. But the bodice embroidery sparkled like stars across an evening sky, the full skirt shading towards night. I stood before my family, who assessed me from head to toe.

  ‘We may have gone too far,’ Mama said. ‘You could catch a suitor by the end of tonight.’ Her unspoken As you should lingered in the air.

  ‘You look beautiful,’ Zola said, who flowed where I glittered, dressed in dawn blue.

  ‘So do you.’ I grasped her hands, hoping my smile wasn’t too shaky. We all turned at the sound of knocking.

  A servant entered with a small clasped box, and bowed. ‘Compliments of Her Majesty. She begs Miss Bayonn to accept this gift in apology for an unavoidable wrong.’ He opened the box with a flourish.

 
; My knees wobbled.

  The sapphires were almost an exact match for my dress. They were stunning rather than ostentatious, reasonable cuts set in silver. I could wear them in complement to my clothing, not as a setting to show them off.

  I knew by their simplicity we could never afford them.

  Mama’s face was torn between astonishment and irritation. It was a coup, of course, for me to wear jewellery like this. But it also looked like Lia throwing pretty things at a problem.

  ‘Please pass on our grateful thanks to Her Majesty for this gift.’ Mama’s words were slow, measured. ‘Such an apology is unnecessary. The supposed wrong was of no one’s making.’

  The servant bowed. ‘Her Majesty also requests Miss Bayonn join her beforehand to see the full effects of her gift.’

  Mama and Zola leaped into action, helping me with the jewellery and leading me to Mama’s looking glass.

  The reflection in the mirror – me – looked like someone who could stand at Lia’s side.

  I touched the glass, trying to slow my breathing.

  Mama’s expression in the mirror was one I’d seen her throw at Lia before: You don’t even realise how lucky you are that my daughter adores you. She squeezed my arms and we shared a smile.

  ‘Make her regret she won’t be near you all night,’ she whispered in my ear.

  When I entered the antechamber, Lia had her back to me as servants settled the folds of her dress, so she didn’t notice everyone focusing on me. Their expressions made me tense.

  No one in Court, until Lia, had looked at me with admiration or desire. I wanted to extinguish it. I only wanted her. No one else.

  Matthias’s gaze was assessing, clinical, but he leaned in to whisper, ‘Congratulations, Miss Bayonn. You’re wearing her great-grandmother’s jewels.’ He winked.

  Royal jewels. Worth fortune upon fortune after all these years. Now I’d be afraid all night of ruining them.

  ‘Relax,’ he said. ‘They’ve been through far worse than a Midwinter Ball.’