My temples throbbed.
The Farezi diplomat had visited me earlier, clammy and desperate. He’d presented reports detailing the daily routines of my mother, Xania, and Matthias, with additional notes on times and places where they were potentially vulnerable to accidents, poison, a slit throat.
I’d read in silence, as the ambassador wrung his hands.
‘These people are the dearest to me still living,’ I finally said.
‘Then you must stop him.’ The ambassador took a shuddering breath. ‘I will help you any way I can, but I also wish to apply for asylum.’
By helping me in defiance of his prince, it was a reasonable request. We’d also have to get his family out of Farezi.
Except I wouldn’t have any power if I did what was necessary to save my loved ones.
‘You would be better served by asking Othayria and Eshvon,’ I said gently. ‘I will assist you wherever necessary, should they prove reluctant.’
He’d nodded, crestfallen and afraid.
I clenched my jaw at Rassa. ‘You’re a fool to give up Farezi to your sister. Edar is smaller, poorer: a costume counterfeit to Farezi’s jewel.’
‘Edar has potential, and you’ll throw it away like your ancestors did,’ Rassa said. ‘You’ll never accomplish anything by reasoning with a Parliament. Change happens through threats and force. Your great-grandfather knew that, and he gained a crown and a throne. But his son failed, your uncle was useless, and your father died young.’ Rassa smirked. ‘And his daughter will throw it all away for a Third Step nobody.’
He knew about my feelings for Xania, but not that she was my Whispers. I couldn’t be certain her network was still secure. From certain phrases and excerpts in the ambassador’s reports, not all the sources were Farezi. Some of my own Court had committed treason for whatever Rassa had promised them.
I remembered the Government names Vigrante had hinted at. Was that why he’d reached out to me? Had he realised Rassa was stealing his own support, not so easily manipulated as he’d assumed?
Damn Vigrante. Even to the end, he’d played his cards too close.
I trusted Xania. But not my Court.
‘You’ve nothing to bargain with,’ Rassa said. ‘I won’t marry you, and I certainly won’t have a child with you.’
‘But you’re perfectly happy to rule my country!’ The pain spread from my temples across my forehead and down my cheekbones.
‘I can do much with it,’ he said.
‘Edar’s up to its eyeballs in debt. Probably up to the hairline now, after months of entertaining and feeding you all.’
Rassa narrowed his eyes. ‘That can be fixed.’
‘How? Tax everyone? The nobles will demand it from their tenants, who can’t pay more. The merchants will fight you every step of the way. The dissatisfaction I deal with now is nothing to what you’ll face.’
‘There are always ways to handle it,’ Rassa said.
He had no idea how to rule. He spent his days drinking and entertaining. His parents gave him minimum responsibility, and he responded with more irresponsibility. A never-ending circle that wouldn’t change until Rassa admitted he had to do better.
Instead, he’d gone behind their backs to take Edar.
I can’t do this to my people. I can’t leave them depending on Rassa. But Mother, Matthias, and Xania, all dead –
I couldn’t think through the pain. Needles scraped along my face, trailing fire in their wake.
Mother had warned me that one day I’d face a decision as Queen that would pit my personal wishes against duty. If I was particularly unlucky, I’d face it repeatedly.
I hadn’t expected it to be this.
‘Have you discovered who killed Lord Vigrante?’ Rassa smiled mockingly. ‘Such a pity. I liked him.’
I’m sure you did.
‘He knew so much about the palace and secrets.’
Secrets: Xania in the passages, bleeding and terrified. The assassin’s Farezi accent. Not a decoy, after all.
‘That’s the problem with old buildings,’ I said. ‘So many secrets and passages.’
Rassa’s smile faded. ‘They’ll be dead by sundown if you don’t act.’
He was using my own deadline against me.
He’d follow through. They’d all die.
I had my plan, had to hope Xania and Matthias would realise what to do.
Pain pain pain. Waves of fire pounded in my head.
‘I trust the paperwork is ready?’
A lawyer smacked down a stack of paper. I flicked through it. For someone who’d planned this for a while, Rassa had rushed the details. There were several small points of Edaran law his lawyers were likely familiar with, but he’d probably dismissed their requests to clarify and check, preferring speed over quality. It was his loss and my gain.
There was no mention of the law my plan hinged on.
Good. His carelessness would help me.
I picked up my pen. Casually pushed aside the note I’d been writing to Xania.
My ancestors had been a usurper, a warmonger, and a diplomat. My uncle had been a fool and a disappointment.
In a few pen strokes, I destroyed everything they’d done. Dripped the wax and sealed it.
I was the abdicator.
I’d faced the difficult decision and crumbled.
My vision blurred. I frowned at my shaking hand. The trembling wouldn’t stop even when I concentrated.
It took three tries before I focused on Rassa. Despite the pain, his smile turned my spine to ice.
‘The brandy,’ I slurred. ‘You drugged it.’
He leaned in and stroked my cheek. I jerked back. ‘I know you too well, Cousin. Of course you’d drink before giving up your birthright for someone you could replace in a moment.’
I wouldn’t give it up just for Xania. I’d do it for Mother, who’d raised me after Father’s death. For Matthias, who’d devoted himself to me after I saved him from the river.
‘The ones you’re sacrificing yourself for wouldn’t let you give up the throne,’ Rassa said. ‘They’d fight me, whether you wanted them to or not. So for my own sake – and their lives – you must be contained.’
The waves of pain crested, then crashed around me.
Chapter Forty-Four
Xania
Long before dawn, I finally gave up on sleep and worked on Papa’s last journal.
Mama had probably hoped this would make me feel closer to him. Instead, I felt like everything I remembered was a carefully maintained facade. I wasn’t sure if Mama had known he was Whispers. I didn’t know if I could ever ask, too afraid of truths I no longer wanted to know.
I’d struggled with the final cypher for days. Nothing I’d previously used in this notebook worked. The latest frustration in a long line.
I paused at I will die old and beloved. Something small and painful dropped into my stomach.
I had the code on my second attempt. The truth flowed from my pen indecently fast:
Vigrante suspects me, somehow. He is too close to the King. The Duchess wishes me to have more sway, but the King will hear nothing against him.
Vigrante will probably try to kill me. If he succeeds, he’ll undoubtedly convince the King to make him the new Whispers. He’ll be unstoppable. Hopefully, I’ve trained Matthias enough to help the Princess survive until she inherits. My lady will protect our daughters.
Xania, my dearest, I’m sorry for choosing this. Do not seek to avenge me. There is nothing glorious in this path. If I die, it is because of my desire to prove myself. Let me stay dead.
My tears splotched the paper. I finally had the proof I needed. And despite Vigrante’s death, I’d pursued a path Papa hadn’t wanted for me. Lia had worried about becoming like her uncle, never living up to expectations. Consumed by revenge, I’d done the same.
Almost immediately, anger swallowed my guilt. How dare Papa lecture me about glory or vengeance? This had all happened because he’d died. And even if he had
n’t wanted me to do anything, he’d clearly changed his mind during his slow death: he’d told Mama to give me his journals when I came of age. He’d hoped I would translate them. And for what else but vengeance? I scrubbed my eyes, blew my nose furiously with a handkerchief.
No wonder Lia hadn’t discovered anything about her uncle’s Whispers. Papa and his predecessor were both dead, and Vigrante would never have admitted his involvement.
I had to tell her right now.
I almost fell out of bed at the hammering on my door.
‘Xania!’
I’d barely unlocked the door when Matthias stormed in. ‘She’s gone!’
‘Who?’
‘Lia!’
‘What?’
Someone thumped on my connecting door. I rushed to unlock it.
Mama stomped in, eyeing Matthias with a promise of justified violence.
‘Mama, stay where you are, please.’ I caught hold of his arms. ‘What’s happened, Matthias? Where has she gone?’
‘She abdicated.’ The catch in his voice felt like a knife between my ribs.
‘She can’t,’ I whispered. ‘She wouldn’t.’
‘She did.’ He dragged his fingers through his hair.
‘Sit,’ Mama ordered. ‘All of you.’
Zola, who’d slunk in after her, sat beside me. Matthias flung himself into a chair and ground his teeth.
He hadn’t known. Matthias was closer to Lia than her own mother, and he hadn’t known.
Mama disappeared and returned with a wild-eyed Lord Martain.
‘Has Rassa called the Court together?’ he asked Matthias.
‘Servants have been dispatched. I ran here, but one will arrive shortly.’
‘Then we must act surprised,’ Lord Martain said. ‘It pains me to say this, but is your friendship a liability now?’
I shot to my feet. ‘This is ridiculous!’
‘He’s right, Xania,’ Matthias said wearily. ‘He has to protect you.’
‘I can protect myself!’
‘Xania!’ Mama snapped, right before the polite knock.
Lord Martain hurried Matthias into their bedroom. Zola and I arranged ourselves with books and pamphlets, as if we did this in our nightclothes all the time. Mama answered the door.
Matthias slipped into the hall after the servant’s departure. We scrambled to dress and joined the stream of people in the halls. There were no pointed whispers or speculative glances. We were only another Step family. My secrets were still safe.
In the throne room, Lord Martain kept Matthias in our line of sight. There was a noticeable gap around him. No matter how many nobles desired his competency and discretion, he had always been Lia’s. Now the unfavourable light of her abdication reflected upon him.
The antechamber doors opened, and Rassa strode in. The Court exploded into surprised, uneasy noise.
Rassa wore a freshly pressed shirt and trousers, his boots buffed and oiled.
The Farezi royal colour was dark green.
His coat was Edaran blue, embroidered in silver and gold, similar to Lia’s coronation dress.
Where is she?
I knew within moments that Lia hadn’t written her ‘statement’. None of it rang true, and this was reflected on other faces. Anyone who’d spoken to Lia, or heard her addressing Parliament or the Court, knew Rassa read out nothing but lies and twisted truths.
With each sentence, my heart sank further. Panic clawed inside me. Rassa would soothe everyone’s doubts with smiles and laughter and promises. He’d be the opposite to Lia’s frugality and common sense. He’d turn her into a distant memory, a troublesome monarch now gone, though eventually he wouldn’t be able to ignore Edar’s financial realities.
Why isn’t Lia announcing her own abdication?
Is she dead?
Lia’s ‘statement’ was difficult to stomach, but Rassa’s speech was intolerable. Zola gripped my hand to the point of pain.
He finished and sat on the throne.
I wanted to scratch his eyes out.
An Arch-Bishop came out with the crown, followed by a bishop with the bell, the blade, and the fiery bowl. There was no pomp, no ceremony, no travelling amongst the people. A hurried coronation to avoid awkward questions or interruptions.
He’d planned this.
Zola glanced at me when he said the vows Lia had sworn almost a year ago, as if she feared I would cry. There were no tears when the Arch-Bishop crowned him. Only hatred.
Vigrante didn’t matter anymore. Neither did Hazell.
We had to find Lia.
We had to get Rassa off the throne.
The Court clapped and cheered when he rose, bloodied and crowned. What else could they do?
I jumped at the touch on my elbow. Matthias had sidled towards us, using the noise and shock as cover.
‘We need to go to Lia’s mother immediately.’ He barely moved his lips. ‘Aubrey and Isra are with her.’
I’d imagined finally coming face-to-face with the Duchess so many times, now knowing her link with Papa, but always with Lia for support. Now Lia was gone. ‘We can’t be seen leaving together.’
He nodded, and disappeared back into the crowd.
Zola tightened her grip on my hand. ‘You can’t go. Rassa is King now. You don’t have standing anymore.’
‘I have to know where she’s gone.’ I kept my voice low, but glared until Zola let me go.
‘Be careful,’ she said. ‘Rassa will have little favour for Lia’s allies.’
‘That’s my problem, not yours.’ I smiled to take the sting out of my words, and plunged into the crowd.
I scribbled a short note and dispatched it with a harassed-looking servant, then went looking for Matthias.
He waited in an alcove not far from the throne room. We hurried through the halls, ignoring the frantic servants trying to make sense of their new pecking order.
The guard at the Duchess’s doors ushered us inside.
The Duchess sat with Isra and Aubrey, a breakfast service scattered between them; a polite shield against the horror of her daughter’s abdication and flight.
Of course, Lia could already be dead. But if I lingered too long on that, I’d sink to the floor and not get up again.
‘A wonderful coronation,’ Isra said, lifting her teacup in a mocking salute, ‘wouldn’t you agree?’
The fear and hurt and rage burst inside me, building since Rassa had walked out in Lia’s colours. ‘Rassa has everything now! He’ll get Lia’s estate, and he’ll destroy everything she’s done–’
‘No, he won’t,’ the Duchess said. ‘My brother-in-law drafted a clause into Lia’s inheritance. If she dies – or abdicates – without marrying, the estate reverts to me, and my bloodline.’
We stared.
She smiled bitterly. ‘He knew Lia would likely marry outside Edar. My brother-in-law hated our neighbours.’ She glanced at Aubrey and Isra. ‘No offence, naturally. He hated knowing the royal bloodline would be… sullied.’ The Duchess rolled and spat the word.
Matthias paced. ‘So no one knew Lia planned this?’
We all shook our heads.
The Duchess turned to me. ‘Even you?’
I shook my head as my cheeks burned.
She flicked her fingers. ‘Oh, don’t be coy. You shared her bed. Of course she’d confide in you.’
Aubrey looked relieved to know the truth, once and for all, while Isra seemed grimly thoughtful, as if her suspicions were finally proven right.
‘No,’ I said, ‘she didn’t tell me. We hadn’t spoken privately since before the executions.’ When she broke my heart, and I stomped on hers. I suddenly remembered the stacks of red and green volumes. ‘But she was planning something. She was researching history and law.’
Matthias dug his heels into the carpet. ‘Law books? Did you notice anything in particular?’
‘No. We weren’t – it wasn’t a pleasant conversation.’
Matthias frowned. ‘She must have b
een researching current legislation.’ He bounced in place, thinking.
‘Abdication laws!’ he and Isra shouted together.
A quick glance confirmed I was the only one willing to entertain them. ‘Pardon?’
‘Lia technically relinquished her rule the moment she signed the paperwork, and Rassa is legally King once crowned. But other countries don’t honour abdications until three days later.’
‘That makes no sense,’ Aubrey said.
‘It’s to stop usurpers from invading other countries,’ Isra said. ‘For three days, they can’t do anything in the previous ruler’s name. If they do, they can be answered with full force – even war, if it escalates.’
‘Lia willingly abdicated,’ Aubrey said. ‘So what if our families don’t recognise Rassa for three days?’
‘It means,’ Matthias said gleefully, ‘to Othayria and Eshvon, she’s still legally the Queen! She still has power.’
‘But she abdicated!’ Isra said. ‘She can’t win back a throne she gave up. And even if she unwillingly abdicated, we don’t have proof. It’s her word against Rassa’s, and the law is on his side.’
Matthias gnawed a knuckle in thought.
My brief euphoria deflated back into disappointment.
‘Actually,’ Matthias said, ‘we do. The Farezi ambassador sought asylum in Edar. Lia rejected the request, since she clearly intended to abdicate, but wrote him an application to use for Othayria and Eshvon.’
Isra raised her eyebrows. ‘Written evidence you happened to procure?’
Matthias beamed. ‘I’m a talented secretary, Your Highness.’
Or he was still close to the tall Farezi diplomat from Midwinter
The Duchess cleared her throat. ‘You may dismiss this as a mother’s fretting’ – we stilled at the fear in her voice – ‘but none of us knows where Lia is, nor do her personal household –’
My stomach suddenly cramped. How many, exactly, had Rassa bribed or threatened into his service? If there was a list, would the names match those Vigrante had wanted to ruin? Had he realised Rassa was stealing his own supporters? Would he have admitted his suspicions to Lia if he hadn’t been murdered?
Queen of Coin and Whispers Page 26
