Stranger to the Crown

by Melissa McShane

  “I hope they didn’t make you wait long,” she said in Veriboldan. “They’re protective of my time.”

  “I guess I’m not as well-known as I thought,” Mihn said. “They probably would have let my father through, no questions.”

  Elspeth shuddered. “I ought to leave word for them not to do that. I can’t imagine anything more distressing than dealing with Elizdo in my own office.”

  Mihn smiled and released her. “I came to see if you want to get away for a while. Go for a ride in the Park.”

  The Park. Who had suggested she take a look at it? Veronica, right. “I don’t know if my schedule’s free. But I’d love to. I haven’t been outside in two weeks.”

  “El, you have to take time for yourself. You’re going to go mad otherwise. That’s my considered opinion and not just me selfishly wanting to spend time with my best friend.” Mihn wandered over to the fireplace and winced. “Aren’t you roasting in here? It’s like a furnace.”

  “I’m always cold.” Elspeth joined him. They stood side by side, watching the flames.

  “What’s it like? Being Queen?” Mihn finally said.

  “There’s nothing to compare it to. Nobody ever says my name, did you know? It’s always ‘your Majesty.’ My aunt rarely calls me anything. And they respect me, but it’s like I’m wearing a mask, and the mask is really what they respect. I don’t know that anyone except you sees Elspeth North beneath the royal mask.”

  “I’m sorry. I know it’s not what you wanted. Daoine said she missed you at the final feast of the Festival.”

  “I missed her, too. Is she ever coming for a visit?”

  Mihn shrugged. “You know what her parents are like. They think Tremontane is full of uncouth upstarts who wouldn’t know real culture if it bit them in the ass.”

  “That must be hard.”

  “We’ll be married the month Father’s term is up, and then we’ll both be free. I can be patient.”

  The door opened. Simkins said, “Your Majesty, it’s time.”

  Elspeth looked up at her tall friend. “I’ll send word if I can get away this afternoon,” she said. “It’s so good to see you.”

  “Hang in there, El,” Mihn said. He squeezed her shoulder and let himself out, passing Simkins, who barely moved to let him by.

  “Your Majesty,” Simkins began.

  “Just a minute, Miss Simkins,” Elspeth said. Mihn’s gentle touch had struck her to the heart, and she blinked away tears. “That man is not only the son of the Proxy of Veribold, he is my oldest friend and someone I care very much about. If you can’t show him the respect due all of that, I will have to consider whether I’m well served by your continued presence in the palace. Do we have an understanding?”

  Simkins’ eyes widened. “Your Majesty,” she repeated, swallowed, and said, “I understand. I apologize—I didn’t realize—”

  “That’s all right, Miss Simkins, just so you realize now,” Elspeth said. “Did you send the soldiers to their position?”

  “Yes, your Majesty, but I think I will better be able to serve you if you would explain what you need them for.”

  “I hope not to need them,” Elspeth said, and left the office.

  Lady Quinn, General Beckett, and Lord Harrington were all in the Council chamber when she arrived. They bowed to her, but didn’t interrupt the low-voiced conversation they were having. Elspeth, relieved at not being required to make small talk, took her seat and played with the toan jade. It calmed her enough that when Julius Caxton entered, she could greet him without any of her inner turmoil showing. He grunted an acknowledgement as he took his seat beside her.

  Faraday was the last to arrive. He nodded politely, but his hard gaze told her everything she needed to know. Her heart sank. This was not a meeting she wanted to have.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming,” she said, stilling the remaining conversations. “This meeting is to address the taxation reports prepared by Mister Caxton. There was some confusion in our last meeting over the distribution of taxes by province. Mister Caxton, would you care to summarize?

  Caxton stood. “It’s as I said before,” he began. “Provincial taxes…”

  Elspeth let him speak for a while. This time, she could admire, in a despairing way, how he deftly managed to speak without saying anything of importance. “…which is why taxes are collected to the Royal Treasury and monies disbursed from the general fund instead of taxes staying within the provinces,” Caxton finally said, and sat.

  “Thank you, Mister Caxton.” Elspeth sat up straighter in her chair. “Is that all?”

  Caxton nodded. “I think I’ve been clear.”

  “So you’re willing to stand by what you’ve said? You take responsibility for the system you’ve laid out?”

  Caxton’s eyes went shifty. “I…yes, your Majesty.”

  Elspeth stared him down. “Mister Caxton, what you’ve laid out for us is extremely complex, and no one would fault you for getting a few details wrong. Is there anything you’d like to add?”

  The room was as still as if the air had frozen. Caxton swallowed. Elspeth could tell the moment he decided to brazen it out because his eyes hardened, and he licked his lips. “No, your Majesty.”

  Elspeth turned to Faraday. “Mister Faraday?”

  Faraday stood. His eyes were even harder and colder than Caxton’s, and Elspeth reflected on how glad she was they weren’t enemies anymore. “I took Mister Caxton’s financial report to independent auditors,” he said. “They reviewed the material and determined that funds were being diverted from the Treasury to certain projects. Some of these were projects the Crown had chosen not to support. A few of them appear to have been created solely as receiving entities to conceal the origin of the money passed along to other recipients. The auditors concluded that this was deliberate and that it had been going on for at least two years.” He sat, interlacing his fingers and resting his hands on the table.

  “Mister Caxton,” Elspeth said, “you have taken responsibility for this malfeasance before your fellow councilors and before your Queen. Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

  Caxton licked his lips again. “Everything I did was in service to the Crown,” he said. “I never took a single brass drab for my own use. Those were projects—you don’t understand what it was like under King Francis. He didn’t understand anything about government, or about how you need to spend money to make money. I was correcting injustice, helping people who didn’t deserve to have their livelihood yanked out from under them just because Francis wanted to build another folly in his garden.” He was breathing heavily, and beads of sweat stood out on his brow.

  Elspeth stood. “You meant well,” she said, “but that’s not how the law works. You can’t make things right by doing something wrong, because that wrong will always spread until you’re putting out fires you didn’t start.”

  She walked to the door in the far wall, the large one no one ever used, and opened it, revealing four soldiers in brown and green. “Take Mister Caxton into custody pending trial,” she said.

  Caxton didn’t resist when the guards hauled him out of his chair. “I did what was right for the country,” he said. “I stand by that.”

  “And you’ll be given the opportunity to say so at your trial,” Elspeth said. “I’m sorry, Mister Caxton.”

  The guards escorted him out through the main door, which swung shut behind them. The instant it closed, the room erupted into shouts and demands for an explanation. Elspeth sank into her seat and looked Faraday’s way. His expression was hard and closed-off, but Elspeth understood now that he looked that way when he was controlling a strong emotion. She was sure she looked the same.

  “Enough,” she said when she judged the outrage had gone on long enough. The noise died down. “Even if Mister Caxton doesn’t serve a prison term for what he’s done, he can’t be allowed to serve in his position any longer. Mister Faraday, is it possible one of your Scholia Masters is capable o
f taking his place?”

  “I can make a recommendation for your Majesty to review,” Faraday said.

  “Thank you. I’ll expect that recommendation in two days, if possible. I’d like to be able to present the new head of Finance at our next regular meeting.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  Elspeth stood, prompting the others to rise. “I think that’s more than enough for one meeting. Thank you for your service, and I’ll see you in three days, unless something else comes up.” She hoped nothing else would come up.

  She walked back to her office alone, feeling as if she was dragging a thousand-pound weight behind her. The problem was, she sympathized with Caxton. The more she learned about her role, the more convinced she was that Francis had been a terrible king. No wonder Caxton had broken the law. No wonder Faraday had wanted to usurp some of the King’s responsibilities. But there was no end to that line of thinking. Good intentions weren’t enough to excuse taking the law into your own hands.

  She sat at her desk, toying with a pen, drawing circles all over the handwritten daily schedule she’d insisted Simkins produce. She had nothing to do but sit for her stupid portrait in two hours…

  Frustration filled her, turned into impatience. She pulled the bell rope and waited. When Simkins arrived, she said, “Cancel all my afternoon appointments. I’m going out.”

  “Going out? Where? Your Majesty—”

  “I’m going for a ride in the Park with Mihn—Bakarne of the Arhainen. The portrait sitting can wait.” Despite her acquisition of Tremontanan clothes, Elspeth still didn’t have the artist’s approval, and today the thought of facing the woman and her criticisms wearied her.

  “Very well, your Majesty.”

  Simkins’ acquiescence surprised Elspeth into giving the woman a long, hard look. She didn’t look disapproving or angry, just respectful. Maybe all Elspeth had ever had to do to control Simkins was stand up to her. Some people were like that.

  She sent a runner to the Veriboldan embassy to tell Mihn the new plan and hurried off to her chambers to change. When she got there, however, she looked at herself in the mirror and decided she looked just fine for an afternoon outing with a friend. Her heart already felt lighter than it had in days.

  The messenger came for her just as she was dithering over where she should go—have someone take her to the Veriboldan embassy? Wait on the steps of the palace like an eloping maiden?—and brought her through back ways to the stables. The furtive way they went excited Elspeth, as if she were doing something forbidden that someone like Faraday would be furious about. But the stables hummed along busily, and the stable hands bowed to her as if she were expected, and she buried her disappointment and walked to where Mihn waited atop a high-sprung carriage, his hands on the reins of a beautifully matched pair of black horses.

  “Let me take you away from all this, my lady,” Mihn declaimed, bowing as gracefully as anyone could from a seated position. Elspeth laughed and, with some assistance, climbed onto the seat beside him.

  “We’re just waiting on your escort,” he went on. “You’ve outpaced them.”

  Elspeth grimaced. “Let’s just go. It’s not like you don’t know where the Park is.”

  “Queens don’t travel unescorted, El. Get used to it.”

  A couple of guards in North blue trotted up to the carriage, followed by another pair. “Your Majesty,” the lieutenant on the white horse said, “where do you intend to go today?”

  “We’re going to the Park. And could you please…I don’t know. Not be obtrusive? I’d like to pretend for an hour or so that I’m not the Queen.”

  The woman smiled sympathetically. “We’ll be discreet, your Majesty.”

  Elspeth had never spent much time in Aurilien and had never wanted to. Now, the knowledge that it was in a sense her city, her possession, gave it a sense of wonder she hadn’t felt before. It reminded her a little of the east side of Haizea, where the common folk lived; that was also a place she hadn’t gone often, but that feeling of closeness, of a place lived in for centuries, made her feel at home.

  Aurilien’s buildings were taller than Haizea’s and blander, without the bright colors of ceramic and tile that made Haizea look like a pile of jewels snugged up against the Kepa’s banks. But they were beautiful in their own way, with the older buildings’ exposed beams stained dark brown or black and making a stark contrast to the plaster and limewash of the walls between them, white or pale blue or even pink. She knew these were older buildings because Francis had said something once about parts of the city looking just as they did when Willow hadn’t yet become Queen. That fact had stuck with Elspeth, making her feel a connection to her ancestor and the city she’d loved.

  Newer buildings stood cheek-by-jowl with the old ones, not something she’d ever seen in Haizea, where changes in architecture were subtle so the city would retain its uniform beauty. Brick façades, red or yellow or gray, were splashes of color that gave Aurilien a patchy look—and yet it was a look that suited it, made it seem young and vibrant. It was a city that didn’t give a damn what anyone thought of it, and it charmed Elspeth.

  The day was surprisingly warm for late winter, and Elspeth tossed her unnecessary cloak into the back of the carriage. She turned her face to the sun and closed her eyes until a change in the bumping of the carriage brought her back to now. When she opened her eyes, she gasped in astonishment. The city had disappeared, and lawns and trees and low, rolling hills surrounded her. “This is the Park?” she exclaimed.

  “Remarkable, isn’t it? I heard your Uncle Landon is the one who built it.”

  Elspeth looked around. The guards kept pace with the carriage, two behind and two to the sides. The grass was winter-pale and yellow, but she could imagine how it would look in full summer, how all these flowerbeds would bloom with color. There were winter plants growing already, crocuses and snow drops and holly bushes, vibrant with color that no amount of snow could completely hide. Even the bare trees had a stark majesty to them, stretching their limbs to the sky as if praying to ungoverned heaven.

  Men and women, mostly pedestrians, but a few on horseback and one brightly-painted carriage well ahead of them, thronged the paths that led through the flowerbeds and disappeared into the distant trees. They gaped in awe at the carriage, which wasn’t obviously royal, but the guards in North colors made it clear who drove past that afternoon. The horse riders made way for them, bowing and doffing hats, and then they were past and headed away from the gates.

  The path took them out of the lawns and into a more densely forested area, this one with pine trees intermingled with bare oaks and maples. Elspeth knew nothing about the flora of Tremontane, but this seemed so unusual she half-stood to get a better look and had to be pulled back into her seat by Mihn. As they came out of the forest, Elspeth said, “Do I hear running water?”

  “Look that way,” Mihn said, pointing.

  They came around a low hill, and Elspeth gasped again. A low waterfall, no more than seven or eight feet tall, cascaded over a rocky hill that had to be manmade and into a lake that glimmered in the afternoon sunlight. A pair of swans glided past, apparently unaware of how cliché an image they made. Elspeth didn’t care. She’d never seen anything so perfect.

  “This is all outstanding. And anyone can come here?” she asked.

  “Anyone. It’s free to the public and open until sunset every day.” Mihn steered them around a few more low rises until they once again approached the flowerbeds and the Park entrance.

  “That’s—” Elspeth’s eyes narrowed. “Uncle Landon did this?”

  “So I hear. It was built about fifteen years ago, so that’s all I know.”

  Elspeth glanced back at the guards. They didn’t look bored. Well, this was their job, keeping an eye on their Queen. “Take us round the circuit again,” she told Mihn.

  This time, she counted paces until the number got too high. She kept an eye out for the boundary fence, which came and went in glimpses as
they drove. The path had clearly been laid out so as to keep Aurilien from intruding on anyone traveling it. She eyed the swans, which now struck her as twee—just two swans? No ducks?

  When they reached the entrance again, Elspeth said, “I’ve seen enough. Thank you, Mihn. I feel so much more relaxed.”

  Mihn gave her a skeptical look. “You sound like you’ve got something on your mind.”

  “I do, but it’s nothing you need to worry about.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m lucky—”

  Something went pop in the distance, and a bee whined past Elspeth’s ear. She turned to watch it go and saw the guards all lash their horses into a canter, surrounding the carriage. Another pop, and pain creased Elspeth’s right arm just below the shoulder. She clutched her arm, and then a guard tackled her, dragging her not at all gently off the carriage seat and to the ground, covering her with his body. She struggled, cried out for help, but he didn’t move.

  “Somebody send to the palace,” she heard the guard lieutenant say. “The Queen has been shot.”

  12

  Elspeth wormed her left arm free and looked at her hand. Blood stained her palm, not much of it, but enough to make her mind a white blank. Someone had shot at her. Actually hit her. She thought of the bee whizzing past her ear, and then she was shaking and couldn’t stop.

  “It’s all right, your Majesty, they can’t get at you,” the guard atop her said. Elspeth nodded. Her teeth were chattering as if she were freezing cold, which she almost was; the hard ground felt like ice seeping through her thick wool trousers and the heavy coat.

  “Please let me sit,” she whispered.

  “Get her into the carriage,” the leader said. The guard’s heavy body shifted, and someone gave her a hand up. She wobbled up the steps of the carriage and inside it, where she slumped so no one could see her.

  The door opened again, and Mihn climbed in. He put his arms around Elspeth and held her tight. “It is all right,” he said in his stilted Tremontanese. “You are not hurt. It is all right.”