Innocent Queen: A Court Intrigue Fantasy (The Forbidden Queen Series Book 2)

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Innocent Queen: A Court Intrigue Fantasy (The Forbidden Queen Series Book 2) Page 16

by R. J. Vickers


  Eventually Mellicante said, “You realize this won’t help, Your Majesty.”

  I frowned at her. “What do you mean?”

  “Covering up this murder and dealing with the Extractor. The Truthbringers and their followers are after blood, and if this doesn’t spell the end of your reign, they’ll try something else.”

  “I wonder who Wistin is working for,” I said. “It would be the worst sort of irony if the Truthbringers themselves hired one of the forbidden races to carry out their dirty work, but I wouldn’t put it past them.” I sighed. “The problem is, I don’t know enough about the Truthbringers in the first place. Where are they from? What are they trying to accomplish? To me, it seems they want to turn Baylore against all magic races, but what would that achieve?”

  “If I had known you would press me into your service, I would have spent more time gathering intelligence beforehand,” Mellicante said with a humorless smile. “As it is, I found the Truthbringers offensive and avoided listening to their rhetoric.”

  We lapsed into silence again. Before long, Mellicante began yawning, so I moved to the opposite side of the room where my power would not harm her. Over at the washbasin, Misha’s body had lost its rigidity and slid into the water, her hair floating on the surface. The water had turned to brown sludge—when I let my gaze linger on the foul substance, my stomach churned.

  The sun set eventually, and I wondered if anyone had noticed my absence. Though the air from outside grew colder still, we did not close the window. Nor did we turn on any of the enchanted lamps. The only illumination came from the fire-twists glowing red in the hearth.

  The darkness was a relief. I knew the foul brown sludge still bubbled away in the washbasin, but at least I no longer had to look at it. I felt nauseous just thinking about it.

  Late at night, I sat bolt upright at the soft clump of footsteps on the stairs. The sound quieted, and the doorknob rattled.

  “Your Majesty?” a male voice called out. He rapped several times on the door while I sat frozen, hardly daring to breathe.

  At last the footsteps receded. I let out my breath, though I remained motionless. If he had smelled anything strange seeping beneath the door, or if he was about to return with another key…

  “Lucky we didn’t light the lamps,” Mellicante murmured.

  I nodded fervently.

  * * *

  We sat still and silent all through the night. My mind twisted in circles, the darkness and the sickening image of Misha’s disintegrating body nearly suffocating me. I was convinced someone would immediately guess what we had done. I worried it had left a visible mark on me. Mellicante was right. This had changed me. Though I had not killed Misha myself, I was no longer innocent. I would lose my throne somehow; maybe I should have let someone else stumble across this body and face the accusations when they came. The deeper I got into covering this up, the more I had to lose. First I had allowed an Extractor into my home, and now I had taken it upon myself to hide his crime. But it would not end here. I had to do something about Wistin as well.

  Rain started partway through the night, light at first, then heavy. The steady drum nearly lulled me into a restless sleep.

  At last faint light illuminated the dark clouds. My hands were numb and clumsy, and I could not feel my feet at all.

  “I hope this has worked,” Mellicane said softly. She unfolded from her chair and stalked over to the fireplace, while I rose stiffly and lit one of the Weavers’ lamps. Blinking in the sudden glare, I could see at once that the lye had done its job.

  Nothing remained of Misha’s body but a foul-looking brown stew with partially disintegrated bones drifting at the top.

  My stomach heaved, and I doubled over. But I had not eaten in nearly a day, so I had nothing in my stomach to lose.

  “Now we need to drain the liquid and burn anything that hasn’t dissolved.”

  I was struck once again by the dispassionate manner in which Mellicante was able to approach something so horrifying. Either she was a callous monster—a sociopath, perhaps—or she had learned to compartmentalize those things she could not stand to dwell on. I struggled to draw breath, afraid to approach the fireplace and look more closely at the remains.

  While I fought back panic, Mellicante used the fire poker to drag the bones out of the washbasin and dump them on the fire. The flames faltered at the dampness but did not go out.

  “We need to dump this out.”

  “Where?”

  Mellicante glanced at the window. “It’s early enough no one should see if we pour it straight down to the cobblestones. The rain will wash it right away.”

  “The—the whole thing?”

  Mellicante grabbed the bucket of water she had set aside and crossed to the window, glancing down before emptying the bucket. We were six stories above the cobblestones, so I heard nothing when it hit the ground below.

  Then she returned to the washbasin and used a towel to drag it away from the flames. She scooped out a bucketful of the sludge and dumped it out the window into the darkness.

  Again and again, she crossed from fireplace to window, her expression closed and mouth drawn tight.

  “It should be light enough for us to lift now,” she said at last, setting aside the bucket.

  I had been standing motionless through this whole thing, but at Mellicante’s cold look, I forced myself to walk stiffly toward the fireplace. When I stood over the washbasin, I retched again, legs weak.

  “Get ahold of yourself, Your Majesty,” Mellicante said sharply. “You can’t walk out of this tower looking like that. People will immediately guess something is wrong.”

  I nodded shakily.

  The washbasin was still hot, so we used towels and pillowcases to lift it and carry it over to the window. I kept my eyes slitted, trying not to look at the sludge, though my stomach still heaved. I thought I could smell the decay, sweet and putrid.

  At the window, we balanced the basin on the casement and tipped it forward, letting the lye sludge pour out in a thick stream. Once it was empty, we set it back down, and I put a shaking hand over my eyes.

  “That—was the worst thing I’ve ever done,” I whispered.

  “I hope it remains that way, Your Majesty.”

  While the fire smoldered away, filling the chamber with foul-smelling smoke, I hauled the washbasin downstairs and scrubbed it until it shone. My hands grew raw from the lingering lye, but I didn’t care. I would happily strip off a layer of skin if it took my guilt with it.

  Back upstairs, the bones had disintegrated to ash, though the heavy smoke clogged the air. Coughing, I hurried around and opened the other two windows, while Mellicante lit the remaining lamps. The sky still looked as dark as twilight beneath the low rainclouds.

  “Is there anything we’ve forgotten?” I asked. My hands were still shaking. I wanted to run away from what we had done, to fling myself from the tower and let someone else deal with the repercussions.

  Mellicante examined me carefully. “Only a cover story. Where have you spent the night? And what happened to that poor woman?”

  “I was meeting my secret paramour,” I muttered. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “Really?” Mellicante raised her eyebrows. “Or was that a convenient excuse the first time around as well?”

  I refused to answer. I did not owe her the truth about my ill-considered dalliance with Leoth, nor the way he lingered in my thoughts even now. “And Misha has fled the palace,” I said slowly. “Maybe we should leave the door to this tower locked and let someone else break it open—they’ll find a letter from her in here.”

  Digging in the drawers of my old desk, I found a scrap of parchment and a pen. Left-handed, hoping my handwriting would not be recognized, I wrote,

  My darling,

  After our conversation last night, I have decided it was safest to flee the city before things became any more dangerous. If anyone finds out what I am, my poor babe will never be safe. Please remember me
, and keep yourself safe.

  With affection,

  Misha

  I set the letter on the bed, hoping this would confuse things enough to deflect suspicion from me. With any luck, Wistin might worry his murder had not succeeded, and would keep a lower profile until he was sure Misha was long gone.

  “No, don’t leave it here,” Mellicante said. “That’s too suspicious. I’ll arrange a messenger to deliver it to her husband, if she has one.”

  I stiffened. Could I trust Mellicante with that?

  She seemed to read my thoughts. “As much as I resent you for pressing me into your service and putting me through this ordeal, I have every aim of keeping you on the throne, Your Majesty. I won’t betray your trust.”

  As the rain thundered louder than ever on the tower roof, I went around closing the windows. Mellicante had put out the fire, leaving the fire-twists in a pile at the center of the hearth, yet smoke still hung heavy in the air. I felt disgusting, as though our work had left a mark on my skin that I would never be able to scrub clean. The foul smoke clung to my hair, and my sleeve was still damp from where I had sloshed water onto it.

  Mellicante followed me through the door and into the dark spiral staircase, where I locked the door behind us. Every nerve was taut as I descended the stairs, exhaustion warring with wide-eyed fear. When I stepped from the base of the tower, I straightened my back, placing each foot carefully so I did not stumble. I could hardly remember how to walk normally. Mellicante fell back as I approached the common area, which was still dim, lit only by a single lamp near the Cheltish wing entrance. Everyone should still be abed.

  Then a familiar man’s voice cut through the silence. “Kalleah?”

  I jumped and gave a little shriek.

  Leoth had returned.

  19

  Seduction

  “K alleah?” Leoth’s expression was wary, and as the initial shock wore off, I realized he wore traveling clothes sodden from the rain. He had just arrived. Cloudy gods, he was even more handsome than I had remembered. And those eyes…

  “What are you doing up so early?” he asked.

  “What are you doing here at all?” I countered. “Are you not supposed to be negotiating with King’s Port?”

  With what looked like a great effort, he straightened, the strange, hunted look smoothing from his face. “I did. My job there is finished. The governor was eager to proceed, so work on the road has already begun. I rode back ahead of my escort to bring the good news.”

  “That’s—that’s wonderful,” I said stiffly. Plagues, I couldn’t remember how I was supposed to act around him. He was my enemy, but I still couldn’t tear my eyes from his sloppy, damp black curls, his piercing gaze. And more than that, I didn’t want to do anything that would raise suspicion.

  Casting around for a distraction, I waved Mellicante over. She had been lurking in the shadows near the foot of my tower; I waited for her to bow reluctantly to Leoth.

  “This is Mellicante, a merchant who proposed a better way to fund the Great Southern Road.” The words tumbled out too fast. “She suggested giving exclusive rights to the first year of trading to any merchants who help pay for the project. I hope we can make faster progress with the road this way. Trade from Larkhaven has dried up, and we don’t know what’s wrong, so—” Varse. In my panic, I had forgotten Leoth might be responsible for Larkhaven turning on us. I shouldn’t have said anything.

  But he nodded, looking thoughtful. “Lord Ingol suspected something was wrong in Larkhaven. The merchants from King’s Port have seen no sign of the ships they usually trade with, and no word has come from Larkhaven since before Midwinter.”

  I glanced at Mellicante. “You may go.” I had trusted her with Misha’s body, but I did not want her hearing any state secrets.

  She gave me a tight smile before marching away. I envied her—she would be able to sleep today, while I had to stay awake and pretend nothing was wrong.

  Once we were alone, Leoth lowered his voice. “What on earth are you doing sneaking around with a merchant at the crack of dawn?”

  “What are you doing sneaking into the palace just as early? I am your queen. I don’t have to justify myself to my subjects.”

  Leoth took a deep breath and then sniffed. I stepped back hurriedly—had he smelled the smoke in my hair?

  “If I didn’t know better, I would have guessed you were having an affair with that woman,” he said with a half-smile.

  Relief swept through me. If he believed something as innocently scandalous as that, he might not delve too deeply into the circumstances around Misha’s disappearance. “Think what you want,” I said breezily. “Really, though, what are you doing here so early?”

  The corners of his mouth tightened, and I was seized by a sudden urge to fall into his arms and let him hold me until the terror of the past night receded. Plagues. I had to get a grip on myself.

  “I rode through the night. There have been whispers for spans now, talk that something has happened to Larkhaven, and a few quarters back I started hearing rumors there was an army in Larkhaven. No one could tell me if the governor himself had raised the army or if enemy forces had attacked our port, but I couldn’t ignore it. I rode back as fast as I could, ahead of my guards, to make sure you wouldn’t be unprepared if an attack came for Baylore.”

  “I see. And how can I be sure you’re telling the truth? How do I know you didn’t ride straight for Larkhaven and raise an army yourself?”

  Leoth looked genuinely baffled. “Why would I do that? Baylore is my home. Why the Varse would I attack my own city?”

  “Because you think I’m evil,” I said. “You and your pet Truthbringers. I know you’re conspiring with them, and if there really is an army gathering, I’m sure they have something to do with it.”

  “That’s—”

  “I don’t want to discuss this right now, Leoth. It’s too early to think properly. I’ll summon you for a full report later.”

  “But—”

  Spinning on my heel, I stalked to my chambers and slammed the door. Was Leoth telling the truth? An army in Larkhaven…it was too much to deal with right now, on top of the unrest in Baylore and the guilt that threatened to choke me.

  * * *

  Several hours and four cups of bitter hot chocolate later, I still felt frazzled, pulled so thin I might snap at the slightest provocation. I had drawn a bath as the sun rose and nearly fell asleep in the water; when Baridya let herself into my chambers and startled me awake, I let her dress me and fix my hair, limp as a doll.

  Even after scrubbing my hands and hair until the soap bar nearly disintegrated, I still thought I could smell the acrid smoke clinging to me. I feared my guilt had twisted me, had changed me irrevocably. It was as if something inside had begun to decay. Someday the rotten part of me would be exposed to the world, and in the meantime, I had to put conviction behind my lies if I hoped to convince myself I was still fit to rule.

  Now I sat in my private office, tapping a pen against the table as I tried to decide what to do next. My thoughts were sluggish and muddled, despite the caffeine from the hot chocolate.

  I had already changed the guards outside Wistin and Ornan’s room—I did not trust the men who had originally watched over them. I would have to do something about Wistin eventually, but I couldn’t face it just yet. And I wouldn’t act until I was certain he was guilty.

  I drew a diamond on a scrap of parchment, tracing over the shape again and again until the parchment wore thin.

  Most importantly, I had to get rid of the Truthbringers. The only way I could think to accomplish that was with the law I had already proposed, banning them from the city, but that had failed. The holden monarchs would likely listen to Leoth if he argued for the law, but he would never do that, not when he seemed intent on putting the Truthbringers in power. And my attempts to seduce Morrisse to my side had gone nowhere. If only I knew what Leoth knew. He could win the affection of any woman he set his sights on—he ha
d certainly fooled me.

  Wait a moment. What if I asked Leoth for advice? It was a terrible, dangerous idea, but it might just work.

  * * *

  That afternoon, I summoned Leoth to the study downstairs, ostensibly to hear a full report on his visit to King’s Port.

  “Your Majesty,” he greeted me, giving me a sweeping bow. He had changed into a fine silk doublet and black leather breeches, and no trace of exhaustion showed on his face. I knew I had dark circles under my eyes, and my skin had taken on a yellowish tinge.

  “Close the door,” I said tersely.

  “Is that wise, Your Majesty?”

  “I have guards who will come at my call. I am not afraid of you, Leoth.”

  He glanced out at the lower landing before obeying.

  “Tell me everything. What did you learn on your journey south? How does the governor of King’s Port view our alliance—did Ricardin speak the truth about his stance? What exact rumors did you hear about Larkhaven? Did you encounter bands of horsemen attacking the forbidden races around the countryside?”

  Leoth sank into the chair opposite my desk. “Why am I really here? You don’t need privacy to ask these questions. I thought you despised me. I thought we were enemies. Why have you brought me here alone?”

  I felt myself flush. He knew me too well. “Fine. You’re right.” I might as well tell it straight. “If you speak a word of this, I’ll burn you alive, do you understand?”

  Leoth held up his hands. “That’s going a bit far, don’t you think, Your Majesty? I won’t say anything. Promise.”

  “And stop it with that ‘Your Majesty’ nonsense.” I took a breath. “I need to seduce someone who has been trying to avoid me. You seem very knowledgeable in the art of seduction. Can you—teach me?”

  Leoth snorted. “Gods, Kalleah, do you really think that’s a good idea?”

 

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