“You might ask the Royal Librarian,” Lord Harrington said. “The Library is housed in the old Scholia chambers.”
“Old Scholia chambers?”
“The Scholia has grown so much over the last century, it’s outgrown the rooms Kerish North chose for it. The Magister of the Scholia recently applied to the Crown for new quarters in a separate building. King Francis gave them Crown holdings in County Cullinan.”
Elspeth knew almost nothing about the Scholia except that it was the oldest educational institution in the country. “That sounds very reasonable, though I thought the Scholia was independent of the Crown.”
“No, it’s funded by the Crown in exchange for providing Scholia-trained Masters to serve throughout the government. And, of course, there’s the research into Devisery—the Scholia is still preeminent in that respect. But the Library remains in the palace. Nobody wanted to take on the enormous task of moving all those books.”
Devisery was another thing Elspeth knew little of. She resolved not to let her lack of knowledge overwhelm her. “The Library is in the old part of the palace, right? I think I remember where it is. Though maybe I need a guide—I’m constantly in fear of being lost in this place.”
“We could assign you someone with a map and a compass,” Lord Harrington said with a twinkle in his eye.
Elspeth laughed at the mental image of herself with a walking stick, traversing the halls of the palace as if walking through the hills outside Haizea. “I don’t think it’s quite that bad, but you’re not far off.”
They finished the meal with chocolate and a selection of tiny cakes, bite-sized, that Elspeth ate far too many of. Then she walked with her guests to the door of the east wing and bade them goodbye. Veronica waited in the drawing room, staring into the fire. “That wasn’t so bad,” Elspeth said, half to herself.
“Most people here want you to succeed,” Veronica said.
Startled, Elspeth said, “Why only most people? Who wants me to fail?”
Veronica shrugged. “I don’t know. I just know that there were those who encouraged Francis to depend on them so they could increase their personal power. You should watch out for that.”
Faraday’s sour expression, the disdain in his eyes, came to mind. “You’re right. I will. Thank you.”
Veronica shrugged again. “I think you have a chance at becoming a good Queen. Maybe even a great one. You’re sharper than poor Francis—I loved my son, but he had his failings. And you’re less self-centered a Queen than Landon, heaven keep his soul.”
That Veronica could be that frank about her own husband and child stunned Elspeth into silence. When she recovered, she said, “I’m sure they weren’t bad Kings.”
“Are you? I’m not,” Veronica said. “When you have time, go for a ride in the Park. See what you think.” She turned and left the room before Elspeth could ask her to explain. What was the Park? Where was the Park? One more thing she didn’t know.
She returned to her rooms and wearily undressed. It was too late to find Merete and ask her about getting a new wardrobe—that would have to wait for morning. She snuggled into her warmest nightgown and pulled on her dressing gown, shivering in her bare feet. Tremontane was just too damn cold, that was all.
When she returned to her bedroom, a strange woman was busy turning down the bedcovers. She was dressed in the same uniform Gloria had worn and bowed deeply to Elspeth. “Your Majesty, my name is Shirley,” she said. “If you need anything during the night, pull the bell rope and I’ll come immediately.”
Elspeth said, “But—” and then shut her mouth. This woman—she wasn’t even a young woman, more like middle-fifties—was going to stay up all night on the off chance Elspeth might want a drink or something at midnight? And yet it would probably offend her if Elspeth told her not to bother. All the servants she’d met had acted like it was a huge honor to serve their Queen. Maybe it was, and Elspeth just didn’t understand the magnitude of her role.
“Thank you,” she said instead. “Could you get me a glass of water? And then—” it was early, but Elspeth felt exhausted— “I think I’ll turn in.”
Shirley didn’t bat an eyelash at her mistress’s no doubt odd request. “Of course, your Majesty.”
Elspeth took the time while Shirley was gone to use the water closet and find the bed stool. It turned out to have been tucked away in a corner of the dressing room, where it folded flat against the wall. Elspeth unfolded it and positioned it where she could reach it easily. She’d never seen the point of these beds raised so high off the ground. Maybe she could request a normal one. They certainly wouldn’t be on board with her sleeping on a Veriboldan pallet, however comfortable that might be.
She accepted her glass of water from Shirley, drank half of it, and set the half-full glass on the bedside table. “Good night,” she said, receiving another bow from Shirley, and turned out the light. She had to admit light Devices were useful, no oil to spill, no flickering to strain the eyes. Reading in bed would be so pleasant. Maybe the Royal Librarian could provide her with something to read for pleasure as well.
She settled in on her many soft pillows and stared into the darkness. Her first day as Queen, at least her first official day. It had gone on forever. Hopefully the days would get easier as time passed and she grew more confident. She suppressed the thought that it was going to be many days before that happened.
Tiredness caught up to her, and she drifted off to sleep. Her last thought before her eyes closed was that not a single person that day had called her by her first name.
7
Thanks to her early night, Elspeth rose early the following morning. Instead of getting up immediately, she lay staring at the ceiling and going over plans for the day. Talk to Merete. Find the recommendations Hardison had made for the new head of Transportation. All that on top of whatever Simkins had arranged. The idea of an hour for dinner made sense now, if that was the only way to get private time. On the other hand, it was a terrible idea if it ate into what little time she had to do her duties. Something to consider as she became used to her new role.
She climbed down from the bed and hurriedly dressed in her favorite clothes. If she was going to be busy all day, she intended to be comfortable. Then she yanked the bell rope and used the water closet while she waited for Gloria to arrive. It took Gloria only one minute, by the lovely silver watch, to respond to Elspeth’s summons, and Elspeth was still in the water closet. She finished her business and emerged, saying, “Is it too early for breakfast?”
“No, your Majesty, whatever you want,” Gloria said with a bow.
“The same as yesterday, and please have them serve it in my sitting room. And would you ask Mistress Alderly to join me? I mean, not to eat with me, she’s probably already eaten, but I have some questions for her.”
Gloria bobbed another bow and vanished out the door. Elspeth started making her bed, something she always did at home, then realized it was probably one of Gloria’s duties and it would embarrass the young woman if the Queen did it for her. She might even take it as a criticism. Elspeth messed up the blankets, just in case. It had never occurred to her that the Queen might need to worry about not giving offense to her underlings. Maybe most rulers didn’t, and she was just odd for not having been raised to this rank.
She sat patiently in the sitting room until the food arrived, more poached eggs on toast, more chocolate, and to her pleased surprise, a glass of orange juice. Someone had strained the pulpy bits out, which was a disappointment as they were Elspeth’s favorite thing about the juice, but it was still orange juice, and Elspeth sipped it slowly, making it last in case there was only one glass forthcoming.
She examined her sitting room while she ate. It had been assigned to her when she was five, on her first visit to Aurilien, and she hadn’t liked it much at the time. For one thing, it was rather somber, not at all a child’s room, done in grays and browns with a heavy, bulky wallpaper whose abstract print made Elspeth think of headless
tigers. Now, the disturbing image didn’t bother her, but she couldn’t imagine wanting to spend much time here. Which, if her schedule persisted as busy as yesterday, wouldn’t be an issue.
She chewed thoughtfully as she stared into the fireplace, which had not been turned into a Device. Dark wooden pillars coordinating with the wallpaper propped up a heavy mantel that looked like it was about to topple off the wall and take a chunk of the masonry with it. Maybe she should change rooms, after all. They couldn’t all be this bleak. And it would be less difficult than remodeling.
Someone knocked on the door, and whoever it was opened it without waiting for a response. “Good morning, your Majesty,” Merete Alderly said with her usual cheery smile. Merete had been the palace housekeeper—such a tame word to describe the woman who effectively ran the palace—since Elspeth had been small. Elspeth and her siblings adored her, and she had treated them like her own children, firmly but lovingly explaining what they were and weren’t allowed to do, encouraging them to play games in the parts of the east wing not in general use, sneaking them treats and then pretending she didn’t know where the treats had come from. Elspeth had hoped that Merete, at least, would call her Elspeth, but it seemed that was too informal even for their long relationship.
“Good morning, Merete. Please sit. Do you want some chocolate? They’ve given me more than I can drink.”
“Thank you anyway, no. Is there something I can help you with?”
“I hope so.” Elspeth finished her chocolate and pushed the pot away. “I need clothes. And probably someone to take care of them, and help me dress in formal wear…I feel so at a loss.”
“Do you mean you don’t have any Tremontanan clothes?” Merete sounded startled.
“Why would I? I never needed them before.” Elspeth hoped that hadn’t come out too defensive.
“I suppose that makes sense.” Merete nodded. “If you’ll allow me, your Majesty, I will send you a seamstress who can assemble a wardrobe for you. She’s reliable and I know she will be thrilled to help you. And I can arrange for you to interview a number of ladies for your personal maid, or maids, if you like.”
“Just one for now, I think. Thank you so much. And—oh. I think I need a gown for my coronation, and that might be very soon.”
Merete smiled again. “Not to worry. The woman I have in mind is used to working to deadline. Though if you can provide her with that deadline, that would be best.”
Some of the weight Elspeth had been carrying fell away. “You don’t know how relieved that makes me.”
“You must be struggling. It’s unfortunate your family can’t be here to support you.”
“I miss them so much.” Elspeth blinked away tears. “But it’s not so bad. There are so many people ready to help me, I feel I shouldn’t complain.”
“Well, please call on me if you need anything.” Merete raised her hand as if she wanted to pat Elspeth’s shoulder but then thought better of it. Elspeth’s light, floating feeling subsided a little at the reminder of how much distance there now was between her and her friend.
She arranged for the seamstress and the candidates for lady’s maid to come to the east wing at twelve-thirty. Elspeth was sure she didn’t need a full hour for dinner, and she was just as sure Simkins wouldn’t have thought to leave room for any non-governmental activities on the dreaded schedule.
By the time Merete left, it was almost eight-thirty, and Elspeth felt energized and ready to tackle the new day. She again found her way to the north wing without help, which cheered her further, nodded politely to Branton and pretended not to notice his embarrassment at encountering her, and let herself into Francis’s—her office without meeting anyone who might have a demand of her. No Council meeting for a week…this day might actually be pleasant.
She seated herself behind the desk just as the door swung open. “I beg your pardon, your Majesty, I didn’t realize you were here,” Simkins said. Her expression was more forbidding than usual, and it dampened some of Elspeth’s cheer. “I have the day’s schedule.”
“All right, I’m ready to hear it,” Elspeth said with a smile.
Simkins eyed her suspiciously, as if cheerfulness might be contagious and it was an illness she’d rather not contract. “Nine o’clock, meeting with the architects building the pavilion in the royal gardens. Nine-thirty, initial consultation with the artist commissioned to paint your portrait for the Long Gallery. Ten o’clock, high court—that is at the Justiciary, and you will require an honor guard to escort you there. Twelve o’clock, dinner in—”
“Wait,” Elspeth said. “What is high court?”
Simkins’ lips pursed in annoyance at being interrupted. “You will sit in judgment over the cases sent up from the provinces. There is an agenda waiting for you at the Justiciary.”
“I can’t do that! I know nothing about the law—how am I supposed to judge fairly?” Sick dread rose up inside her, turning the poached eggs to acid soup.
“Your Majesty,” Simkins said, her voice heavy with rebuke, “it is your duty to provide justice to the citizens under your care. If you wish, a law-speaker or criminal questioner may assist you.”
“Yes. Please. Someone who knows the law.” A law-speaker would know the details of the law, and a questioner would have experience arguing the law in front of a court. Either would suffice. She didn’t care if she was passing off the duty on someone else. The thought of holding someone’s life in her hands, of judging wrongly, terrified her.
“As I was saying. Twelve o’clock, dinner in the east wing. From one o’clock to three o’clock you are scheduled to meet with the candidates for the new head of the Transportation department.”
“I don’t even know who they are. I couldn’t find the list.”
“That is because King Francis gave it to me. I arranged to have them attend on you so you might make a decision to present the Council. At 3:15 you are to meet with the Magister of the Scholia on a matter to do with its removal from the palace. And from five o’clock to six you will meet again with the master of ceremonies in regards to your coronation. It has been scheduled for noon, three days from today.”
“That seems fast.”
“I am sure if your Majesty wishes, the date can be changed.”
“Oh, no, that wasn’t a criticism! I’d like it to happen as quickly as possible.”
Simkins’ cross expression relaxed slightly. “If you will follow me, I will escort you to the small audience chamber.”
“Why—oh, for meeting the architects. They can’t come here?”
“It would be inappropriate to allow workmen into the north wing.” Simkins said “workmen” the way someone else might have said “termites.” “And I believe you will come to appreciate the privacy of your office.”
“That…makes sense.” To her surprise, it did. Maybe Simkins wasn’t addicted to formality at the cost of good sense, after all.
She endured the meeting with the architects, who had been commissioned by Francis to build some monstrosity in the royal gardens. Elspeth hadn’t ever seen the gardens, as her parents had always seen them as Landon’s private space, but she couldn’t imagine they needed a pavilion of the size Francis had proposed. At first, she thought about just approving everything Francis had requested. Then her good sense took over. She didn’t want to invalidate all the work the architects had done, but she would be the one who had to live with it. She asked the architects to return in a week so she could evaluate their plans and compare them to the garden site Francis had chosen. They were surprisingly calm about it, and Elspeth left that meeting feeling she had done something right.
The meeting with the portrait painter went less smoothly, though by the end Elspeth felt strangely comforted that someone in the palace didn’t give a damn about her title. The painter was the sort of artist who cared more for her art than anything else, and she flatly refused to paint Elspeth until she “clothed herself in proper attire the way heaven demanded Tremontane’s ruler do.”
Simkins was ruddy with suppressed indignation, Elspeth was quietly amused, and in the end they all agreed the artist would return in five days.
Elspeth was amused enough to forget how much she dreaded the approach of ten o’clock, but when a trio of soldiers fully kitted out in Tremontanan walnut brown and forest green appeared at her office door, dread returned full force. She let them surround her as they took her through the palace down a long hall she’d never used before, down and down until she was sure they were underground. She’d never realized the Justiciary connected to the palace; she’d expected they would go outside and around to the tall doors in its flat façade adorned with bas relief carvings of the lost gods. But their path led through a few more narrow corridors until they reached a metal door that squealed painfully when one of the guards opened it.
Beyond was a high-ceilinged room with a rectangular dais at one end and dozens of wooden chairs, not comfortable-looking, filling the opposite side. A balcony with more chairs overhung the room on three sides. A white marble desk big enough to seat three took up most of the space on the dais, and there were, in fact, three chairs behind it, chairs that looked more comfortable than the others in the room. To Elspeth’s horror, every seat at ground level was occupied, and the balcony was full, with two people leaning on the balcony rail.
The guard at the head of her procession stopped so abruptly Elspeth almost ran into him. “All rise for her Majesty, Queen Elspeth North,” he said in a voice that boomed through the chamber. Everyone stood, though the two at the balcony rail did so without haste. All of them stared at Elspeth. She stared back, once more at a loss.
“The judge’s desk, your Majesty,” one of the guards prompted. Elspeth jumped as if goosed and hurried to take a seat at the marble desk. She could see no difference between the three seats and decided it didn’t matter which one she took. She sat in the center seat, which was quite comfortable, and folded her hands in her lap.
Stranger to the Crown Page 8
