Renegade Queen : A Court Intrigue Fantasy (The Forbidden Queen Series Book 3)

by R. J. Vickers

  Soon we approached a room that hummed with women’s voices, punctuated by the clanking of cutlery on ceramic and the scrape of chairs. When we followed Rona through the doors, silence fell abruptly. All eight of the servants turned to stare at us, blank-faced with shock.

  “Who have you got there?” demanded a formidable-looking middle-aged woman wearing an apron—I guessed she was the manor’s chef. “And how did they get in? They don’t look Whitish.”

  Rona shook her head. “This girl claims she can somehow free Lord Jofran. These four sneaked in through the garden last night and startled me while I was pruning the rose bushes this morning.”

  “How’d you get past the guards?”

  “We waited until they’d gone inside for breakfast.”

  The chef blew out a disgruntled breath. “They look like beggars. Are you sure they’re not just looking for a handout?”

  “I would love a bite to eat,” Baridya said, eyeing a plate of fried eggs with longing.

  “We will gladly pay you for your hospitality,” I said swiftly. “We are not after charity. I am a political refugee who fled the Truthbringers in Baylore, and I hope to raise an army to free Itrea from the Whitish scourge. The governor’s estate seemed a strategic base for gathering troops, if he is willing to work with us.”

  The chef gaped at me. “You know what, you resemble a painting I’ve seen, of…”

  “No. I’m sure you’re mistaken.” I did not want her guessing at my identity.

  She closed her mouth. “Of course. Well, I suppose there is no harm in introducing you to Lord Jofran. He can decide if he wishes to work with you.”

  I wondered if she had recognized me for who I was. Her sudden change of attitude indicated as much. “Thank you,” I said carefully.

  “Well, in that case, we’d better get you fed and cleaned up. The Whitish bastards don’t pay much attention to us, so they won’t notice you if you’re wearing servants’ uniforms. Except you, of course. You’ll need to stay hidden.” She nodded to Quendon.

  “Of course, Milady. I’ll gladly stay out of sight.”

  The chef’s cheeks reddened at the formal way he addressed her.

  One of the servants fetched plates for us, and we ate a hurried breakfast of eggs with flatbread and cheese, claiming several of the chairs that stood vacant. The simple wooden table held sixteen chairs, yet only nine staff members sat to breakfast, many of them girls younger than I.

  Rona retreated to the garden while we ate, and once we finished, the chef bustled us along to a closet with uniforms and a mirror. I flushed when I saw my reflection—my night of sleeping beneath the bush had left a smear of mud along the left side of my face, which I now wiped hurriedly away. Mud still caked my hair, but I could do nothing about that just yet.

  “We’ll get you cleaned up later,” the chef said. “My name is Magreeda, and I’ll look after you while you’re here. The girls mean well, but they’re so young. We kept getting requests for work as trade slowed down last autumn—lots of families down in Larkhaven are hurting, mark my word—and Lord Jofran was too kind-hearted to turn them away. Normally the staff would just be myself, the gardener, a kitchen hand, a cleaning girl, and the men, but we’ve picked up four others I don’t know what to do with. I’m not sure how trustworthy they are.”

  She handed us each a uniform, including Quendon.

  “You can’t go out in this, but I figured you might appreciate something dry,” Magreeda said.

  “Very much so, Milady. Thank you.”

  Magreeda flushed again—I wondered if Quendon was disarming her on purpose or if his formality came without thinking after years of service in the palace.

  “Anyway, I’ll leave you to change, and then I can introduce you to Lord Jofran.”

  Once Magreeda closed the door to the closet, we changed in the light of a dim oil lamp, turned toward the corners to give each other privacy. Baridya and Mellicante were both quieter than usual; I wondered if they were still upset at one another, or if they were simply nervous to meet Lord Jofran. Baridya and I took turns borrowing a comb lying on the dressing table to untangle our hair, and finally pinned it up beneath mop caps like the other servants had worn.

  “How do we look?” Baridya asked at last, turning to Quendon and Mellicante and striking a pose.

  “Much better,” Mellicante said.

  “Though I must say, you’re too pretty to pass as servants,” Quendon said with an indulgent smile.

  Baridya laughed.

  We emerged from the closet to find the chef waiting for us.

  “I’ve sent Tessie to make sure the guards aren’t underfoot. Sometimes they linger after breakfast, but they usually keep to their own wing of the manor.”

  Magreeda led us up a narrow flight of stairs to a door, where we paused. Several minutes later, the door opened and a girl slipped in.

  “They’ve all gone,” she whispered. “No one is inside.”

  “Good,” Magreeda said. “Be very careful, won’t you? The guards can still see you from outside.”

  “I know.”

  The servant girl, Tessie, led us through the door, leaving Quendon behind with Magreeda. Beyond lay the manor’s grand entry hall, three stories tall and gleaming with polished marble. We stood on a landing on the second floor, with towering double doors and latticed windows to our right, overlooking the platform we had seen from the garden, and a staircase leading down to the manor entrance on our left. Though the space was largely unadorned, the size created an imposing sense of grandeur, almost more so than Baylore Palace.

  “Look purposeful,” Tessie whispered.

  I straightened my shoulders and strode after her, trying not to let my eyes flicker to the place where I knew the guards stood just outside.

  Across the landing, Tessie knocked on a door.

  “Enter,” a man’s voice called from within.

  She pushed open the door and stood back while we stepped inside. A man was standing before us as though to answer the door, but it was not the governor.

  It was my father.

  10

  The Captain’s Crew

  M y breath caught in my throat. I had given up completely on finding my father—I had assumed him dead or captured.

  Before I could rearrange my thoughts, my father swept me up in an embrace. I clung to him, tears stinging my eyes. Even though we had not shared the closest relationship, he was familiar and safe. After many quarters on the road, fleeing vigilantes and Whitish soldiers and Drifters, I felt I had come home.

  “Who is she?” Tessie asked in a small voice.

  My father released me. “This is my daughter. I can’t believe she’s here. I had no idea—”

  “Gods,” Tessie breathed. “Are you the queen of Itrea?”

  “Not so loud!” I hissed. “Everyone thinks I’m dead, and I need to keep it that way.”

  “Of course.” Tessie dropped to one knee. “You Majesty, it’s an honor to serve you, truly it is.”

  I grabbed the girl’s hand and hauled her to her feet. “I appreciate the sentiment, but you aren’t allowed to act differently around me. Do you understand? No titles, no bowing, nothing. If those Whitish soldiers learn who I am, they’ll burn me alive.”

  “Yes, yes,” the girl said, flushing.

  “And lock the door,” my father said.

  She scrambled to obey.

  My father turned back to me. “Kalleah,” he said roughly. “What are you doing here?”

  “Have you heard no word from Baylore?”

  “No.”

  “The Truthbringers turned the whole city against me. The palace was under attack, and I couldn’t see any way to placate my people. So I handed my crown over to Leoth, who sentenced me to death. Only instead of killing me, he helped me escape.”

  “You gave the throne to Leoth?” my father demanded.

  “It was the only way I could see to keep the peace,” I said in a small voice. “If I hadn’t done it, the mob would ha
ve attacked the palace and overthrown the government. This was a better option. If only slightly.”

  Just then, I noticed a man who had to be the governor sitting at the desk behind my father. He had stern features and greying hair, and he sat with his hands folded on his lap.

  “Your Majesty,” he said quietly when he met my gaze. “Your father has told me so much about you. It is an honor to have you here, and especially under the circumstances. It seems your escape was remarkable.” He sighed. “However, I suggest you leave this place as soon as possible. The Whitish soldiers have placed us under house arrest and dismissed all of my male staff, and they see everything that happens around here. They will find you before long, and they will not treat you kindly. My remaining staff are still loyal to me, but they are trapped as much as I am. I do not wish for them to endanger themselves on my behalf.”

  “He’s right,” my father said. “I am trapped here just as Lord Jofran is. I was here when the soldiers arrived—Lord Jofran passed me off as his cousin, but they would not release me. Even the servants are unable to leave. The Whitish have a strong presence in Larkhaven, but their numbers are small. They rely on doubt and fear to keep the citizens in line. I doubt anyone realizes what has befallen their governor, or they would have sent forces to rescue him.”

  “Well, it’s working,” Mellicante said flatly.

  I turned with a start—I had nearly forgotten she was there.

  “People whisper that their governor has abandoned them. No one trusts anyone, and the economy is slowly crumbling. They need you, Lord Jofran. Without any other authority to turn to, they feel helpless against the Whitish.”

  “And how am I meant to overthrow my captors?” Lord Jofran asked. “I have only nine staff in my household—most of them little older than children—against twenty armed soldiers. Besides that, I have no way of sending for help.”

  “We made it in here,” I said. “Your gardener helped us sneak past the guards. You could escape the same way.”

  “And where would I go? I no longer know which lords are still loyal to me, or which manors have been taken over by the Whitish. The soldiers check on me twice a day. If I vanish, they will hunt me down in no time.”

  I sighed. I could understand his reluctance given the danger he was in, but it seemed he was seeking excuses for his lack of action rather than searching for a better way.

  “What brings you here, Kalleah?” my father asked. “There are far safer places you could have gone. This is perhaps the worst—”

  “I’m not here to hide,” I said in a low voice. “I’m here to muster as much support as I can and march on Baylore. No one in the city realizes they are under attack from Whitland, and if we wait much longer, Baylore will tear itself apart and leave the throne wide open for the Whitish High King to seize.”

  “How will you gather support, with Larkhaven in such a state?” Jofran’s tone was politely skeptical.

  “We hoped to use your home as a base—if you are willing, of course. We will need to deal with the soldiers here, and then we can use our contacts in town to quietly begin recruiting.”

  “You say that as though it will be easy,” Lord Jofran said. “As I said before, my staff is incapable of standing up against trained soldiers.”

  “I have a friend in town who captains a ship,” Mellicante said. “She might be able to smuggle her crew into your home. They’re not fighters, but they are strong enough. We can poison the Whitish men’s meal and fight any who don’t succumb to the poison.”

  The governor grimaced. “So crude. You plan to kill them all?”

  “How else will we ensure their silence?” Mellicante snapped.

  My father sighed. “If you will agree to it, Lord Jofran, I suspect it is the best plan we have. Of course, I doubt it will be as easy as you hope to gather support in Larkhaven. People are too scared.”

  “I know it won’t be easy,” I said. “But it’s the only plan I have.”

  * * *

  Lord Jofran handed me into the care of Magreeda, who seemed to control every aspect of his household, not just the kitchen. We were given private rooms—quarters that had once belonged to the staff manager, groom, and gardener’s assistant—and told to keep out of sight in the servants’ quarters as much as possible.

  Mellicante left the very next morning for Larkhaven, promising she would return with Dellik and as many supporters as she could rustle up. Meanwhile, Baridya and I busied ourselves as best we could in the servants’ quarters, peeling potatoes for Magreeda and scrubbing her kitchen until it shone. I did not want to draw attention to my power, so I left Baridya in the kitchen whenever I had to retreat to give her a chance to recover. Once a day, I visited the governor’s office under the guise of a servant dusting the wing, and each time I did, I spent as long as I dared making plans with my father and Lord Jofran.

  “We must think about the long-term trajectory of this conflict,” my father said on the first day we sat down together. “We are at a great disadvantage right now, and unless we can change that, a Whitish victory is inevitable.”

  “What do you know of their plans?” I asked.

  “Not much. When I arrived in Larkhaven, I went first to our palace, but it had been ransacked and all its staff had fled. I did not feel safe there, which is why I turned to Lord Jofran for help. He knew only that Whitish men had arrived in Larkhaven in the past spans and were terrorizing the residents.”

  “But it’s more than that,” Lord Jofran said gravely. “Some of the men we caught in the beginning had lived in Larkhaven for years. Some have families here. Yet they are willing to turn against their neighbors and even their wives.”

  “As far as I can tell, the Whitish High King aims to overtake Itrea eventually,” my father said. “His army is many thousands strong, and I suspect we will see their full force in the end. For now, though, he has relied on a slow, subtle campaign of infiltration, persuasion, and fear.”

  “And it’s working,” I said. “Baylore has gladly accepted the Truthbringers’ influence. I almost wonder if they would welcome a Whitish takeover if it meant ridding the country of the Makhori they now fear.”

  “I hope it has not come to that,” my father said.

  “But why didn’t they try the same in Larkhaven?” I asked Lord Jofran. “Why skip straight to intimidation? Here I still have a chance at victory, because I know the people here will support me once they know who to fight. I didn’t have that in Baylore. The Truthbringers steadily took everything from me.”

  “They did try it here,” Lord Jofran said. “Fifteen years ago, maybe more, a group of priests in white robes landed on our shores. They were not calling themselves Truthbringers at the time, but they shared the same rhetoric I’ve heard coming out of Baylore. Yet the people here did not listen.”

  His shoulders straightened. “We are accustomed to all sorts of people here, including forbidden races and foreigners from around the world, and our livelihoods are based on the trade of magical goods. Why would we turn against our own? And at the word of Whitish priests, no less. No, we ignored them, and one day they vanished. It wasn’t until years later that we heard stories coming out of Baylore and made the connection.”

  “This is why I came to Larkhaven,” I said. “I hoped I might find more acceptance here. Only it appears I am too late.”

  Lord Jofran nodded gravely.

  “As for your plan…” my father prompted.

  “We must assume the Whitish army will reach our shores eventually,” I said. “When they do, I can see no way of keeping Larkhaven safe. Your town is defenseless. Baylore must serve as our stronghold, and for that, we must take the capital back.”

  “Our harbor is well guarded,” the governor said. “No captain can sail through the maze of underwater rocks and fierce currents without the guidance of the harbor guardian, and even if they manage it, we have cannons stationed on certain islands to shoot down any attacking ships.”

  “Then how did the Truthbringers a
nd these other Whitish soldiers reach Larkhaven in the first place?”

  “They must have stowed away on another ship.”

  “And you don’t think there’s any way one of them might have returned to Whitland with reports of how to navigate the harbor safely? You’re happy to base the future of our kingdom on that hope?”

  “Damn,” Lord Jofran muttered. “I suppose you’re right. But the thought of leaving Larkhaven in the hands of our greatest enemy…”

  “It’s not just Larkhaven we will lose before the end,” I said solemnly. “Baylore could fall as well. But we don’t need to worry about that yet. For now, we need to expel the Whitish soldiers from Larkhaven. I can’t raise an army while everyone is afraid of everyone else. We need to root out our enemies and reclaim Larkhaven as an Itrean stronghold.”

  “And how do you intend to do that?” Lord Jofran asked. “You have brought no troops from Baylore, and you are unlikely to find support here. Not without alerting the Whitish soldiers to our movements.”

  “My friends have contacts in Larkhaven. They’ll recruit as many potential supporters as they can and send them to us.”

  Lord Jofran shook his head. “It won’t be enough.”

  “What about the coastal towns?” my father asked. “Have you considered turning to them? As far as I know, the Whitish influence has not spread north or south from Larkhaven. If you can spread word along the coast, you might be able to put together the beginnings of an army. Enough to secure Larkhaven, in any case.”

  “Yes,” I said in surprise. “You’re right. Once we have secured this manor, that will be our next step.”

  “And after that?” Lord Jofran said.

  “After that, we fight for Larkhaven. Then we turn our sights on Baylore.”

  “How long before we abandon Larkhaven?”

  I shook my head. “I have no idea. But I hope to return to Baylore before winter sets in. I don’t want to march an army across the plains through snow.”