Silent Queen

by Carrie Summers

  I shook my head, violently, side to side. I pointed, first at the other herb pouch, then at the larger sack.

  “Wait, Lady. There’s more. With this other packet,” Iriinet said, “you’re less likely to know it by smell. After all, you had no problem with your monthly courses or with conceiving.”

  Lady Ulstat snatched the little pouch away, opened it, and peered inside. “What is it?”

  “Beetlespot root. Powdered. I tested a small pinch. When you mix it in water, it turns a violet color.”

  “Yes, fine. But what does it do?”

  “The truth is I don’t think it works. But women who have problems with their cycles, usually leading to difficulties in becoming pregnant, are often desperate to try anything.”

  The lady’s nostrils flared as she sighed. “So why does our murderer have these?”

  “Actually, I think you may find her innocent of that. Leesa can’t speak, you know. But she showed me these.” As Iriinet spoke, she pulled Vaneesi’s auburn hairs from the pouch.

  Lady Ulstat’s eyes narrowed. She whirled on me. “Where did you get this?”

  I began gesturing without much hope I’d be understood. But Iriinet and I had worked out a script. After a moment, she laid a hand on my shoulder before turning to Lady Ulstat.

  “I don’t mean to presume, Lady, but I have only seen that hair color on one person.”

  “Vaneesi Yiltak,” Lady Ulstat said. “But why would she have coppernettle? Surely not to harm Roakiev. We were assured by our spies that House Yiltak knows nothing about the Ulstat affliction.”

  Iriinet wisely held her tongue while Lady Ulstat began to pace.

  “But if she were aware, and still seemed receptive to Roakiev’s advances . . . Maybe she had her own secrets. Such as this inability to conceive.”

  Even in the dim light in the chamber, I could see spots of anger high on Lady Ulstat’s cheeks.

  “Every other trader House has refused to consider a betrothal due to Roakiev’s harsh reputation. Before Vaneesi showed interest, we were prepared to force a commoner into an arrangement.” As she spoke, the lady grimaced. “My husband should have disinherited him when he had the chance. But with Ashiril gone, we have only Roakiev to further the line.”

  I hadn’t heard about these problems finding a match for Roakiev, but I wasn’t all that surprised. As Lady Ulstat paced, I wondered whether she even cared about her daughter’s murder beyond her concern for continuing the family name.

  Abruptly, she whirled on me. “Did you steal this from the Yiltak girl?”

  I shook my head then pointed at her and gestured in front of my belly, indicating the round stomach of a pregnant woman. Next, I pretended to hold a baby, rocking her in my arms.

  Lady Ulstat blinked, confused. “My baby? But I don’t… Are you talking about Ashiril?”

  I nodded vigorously.

  “Ashiril found this?”

  Again, I nodded.

  “Ashiril must have confronted Vaneesi,” Iriinet said. “Clearly, Vaneesi went to great lengths to protect her secret. And poor Roakiev was misled into helping the true murderer accuse Leesa.”

  At once, Lady Ulstat’s face went white. “I must speak to my husband immediately. House Yiltak will suffer for this.”

  As she climbed through the hatch, she motioned for the guard. “Get this girl out of here. She needs a bath before she is allowed in the main house again.”

  The guard grunted as he descended the ladder, stomped over, and snatched me under the armpit. I didn’t protest as he half-dragged me out of the cellar. I was too busy thinking about Lady Ulstat’s words. Finally, I understood how I’d free Eron.

  Part Three

  Five years later

  1.

  Words have power—everyone knows that. What few recognize is the power that lies in silence.

  That line begins my book, a collection of thoughts and memories I’ve written down for Eron. It’s been half a decade since I last saw him. There’s so much to tell, and I don’t want to forget a single thing.

  For now, I stand at the bedside of my husband, Roakiev. In his delirium, Roakiev raves and swats at phantoms. After the fit, he collapses, too weak to fight as I spoon more coppernettle tea into his mouth. With this dose, I’ve added star aster. Though the coppernettle gradually steals his wits, the star aster brings temporary clarity. After the death of Roakiev’s parents, lost when their trading vessel sank in a storm, the House healer began using it a few times a week so that Roakiev could make decisions as prime trader. But in the last few weeks, not even the star aster has been able to drag him back to sanity.

  Today, though, the dosage is strong enough that he’ll be able to understand. At least a little.

  Iriinet’s niece is a herbalist. She’s helped me with many preparations since my wedding, beginning with a concoction to steal his desire—I had no intent of being a true wife or mother to an Ulstat. It wasn’t easy to be chosen as the next Lady Ulstat—not compared to becoming Ashiril’s sentinel. But between the parents’ belief that I’d exposed Vaneesi and Roakiev’s fascination with my silent obedience, I managed the betrothal. Since the marriage, I’ve been building a loyal base among the servants and guards. And of course, the Ilaraok commoners love me.

  “I wanted you to know the other trader Houses have recognized your request to make me regent,” I say when Roakiev’s eyes begin to clear. “Oh, do you not remember signing the document? Maybe your dosage of star aster that day was less potent than I thought. . . At any rate, I’ve heard objections from some of your cousins. But they can’t take it from me. Especially while there’s still a chance I’ll produce an heir. So I’ll be making choices in your name until you die. And my herbalist has many ideas on how to prolong that process.”

  His tongue works inside his mouth as if he wants to say something. But only a garbled moan escapes.

  “Shocking, isn’t it? I can talk. Aside from Vaneesi Yiltak and dear Iriinet, you’re the only person who knows. Tell no one.” I say with mock severity.

  “How does it feel to be trapped inside your mind? Unable to make yourself understood…”

  Roakiev manages to close his lips over his traitorous tongue. His eyes narrow, hateful. The star aster is working better than I expected.

  “I assure you I’ll use my authority wisely. And you’ll be as comfortable as I can make you. I like to imagine that you weren’t always cruel. You were a child once, after all, beloved by his mother in whatever manner she could manage. Maybe that little boy is still buried somewhere inside the man you became.”

  He mumbles something, drool running across his cheek.

  “Well, I see you’re fading already,” I say. “I’ll have one of the healers bring a tonic to ease your hallucinations. Good night, husband.”

  He holds onto sanity just long enough to glare. I smile sweetly. By the time I leave the room, he is raving again.

  2.

  THE DAY IS hot when I lead my group of guardsmen along the faint trail winding into the hills. In my satchel, as always, I carry a book and quill to use for giving orders. It means that I have to think carefully before making a demand because writing is slow, and then I have to wait for one of my literate clerks to convey my words. But I like that. It makes me careful.

  “Regent Ulstat?” a guard asks.

  I look up, still unused to the title. On the streets of Ilaraok, most people call me the silent queen, a reference to our distant past, before the Islands splintered into rule by individual trader Houses. In those days, the rulers were kind. Or at least that’s what nostalgia tells us. In any case, I’m flattered.

  The main entrance to the decommissioned mine is overgrown. Roakiev’s father insisted it would help hide the prison. Meanwhile, he had a separate entrance dug. Only workers from other islands were used; as far as I know, no Ilaraok commoner knows about the tunnel that leaves from one of the gardens within the Ulstat compound.

  I won’t be using that tunnel today. Instead, I’ve deman
ded the mine be reopened—as far as anybody knows, I’m ignorant to the real use of the tunnels. I only want more ore for our smelters. Although everyone here is hand-picked for their loyalty to me, I want everything believable. Otherwise, if the cousins and aunts and uncles were to hear about this, they might try to unseat me again. But until they can be certain I’ll produce no heir, I doubt they’ll have the strength.

  I give my nod to go ahead, and a small scouting group advances into the mine. I sit on a stool to wait, watching the sun track across the sky. No one can know how hard my heart is pounding. I can’t let them see how difficult it is to breathe. After perhaps half an hour, a runner returns, red-faced and breathless. I pretend to be shocked, widening my eyes in question.

  “Regent, we’ve discovered something…”

  By midafternoon, the prisoners have been brought into the bright, Araokan sunlight. I have no difficulty recognizing Eron. When he runs for me, it’s all I can do to keep from embracing him. He falls on his knees before me.

  “You! You want to go back in there?” one of my guardsmen yells as he grabs Eron. “Lady Ulstat will not be approached by the likes of you.”

  Hearing those words, Eron’s hands drop to his sides. “Leesa? You’re married?”

  I wave my guard off then motion for Eron to approach. I’ve prepared an order ahead of time, a request for my clerks to find a new doorman for House Ulstat. I flip my book open to the page and hold it up to be read.

  I need your help, beloved, I say to Eron. House Ulstat has weaknesses. Secrets that can be used against them. Will you join me?

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you enjoyed the tale. Real quick: if you’d like to jump into the main series, here are the links.

  Visit Nightforged to grab a copy of the first book.

  And head to www.CarrieSummers.com to get in touch with me or sign up for release news, discounts and bonus chapters.

  Thanks again!

  Carrie