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

by R. J. Vickers

  When I took the seat before the row of judges, who were shuffling papers and readying pens, my guards, supporters, and witnesses filled the front rows. Behind them, throngs of townspeople pushed their way through, squeezing into the back rows and filling the rear of the room, until at last the city guards forced the doors closed.

  At the center of the platform, a judge raised her quill for silence and waited several minutes for silence to settle over the room.

  “Before us today we have Her Majesty Queen Kalleah Reycoran, who stands accused of the following. First, that she bears forbidden magic blood, and therefore is not lawfully permitted within the walls of Baylore. Second, that she is not the legitimate daughter of King Baltheor Reycoran, and therefore holds no true claim to the throne. Third, that she is responsible for enacting the murders of numerous civilians either by her own hand or with the help of assassins. Fourth, that she has increased the burden of taxes on civilians for no purpose other than her own benefit. And finally, that she shows preference to the magical races above her non-magical subjects, which has led to discord between the two. Your Majesty, is this correct?”

  “It is.” My voice rang through the room. In the silence that followed, I couldn’t stop myself from glancing over one shoulder to compare the number of supporters in the first rows to the number of townsfolk arrayed against me. There were Truthbringers among them as well; their pale, impassive faces raised the hair on the back of my neck. If things turned violent…

  “We will approach each of these charges separately,” the judge continued. “The accuser will present his evidence, followed by Her Majesty’s defense. Will the accuser please step forward.”

  A respectable-looking young man in a cream coat and fawn trousers strode to the front of the room. His hair was black, his face brown—he was no Truthbringer.

  “Thank you for joining us today, Your Majesty,” the young man said, his tone level and courteous. “I speak on behalf of your citizens. We hope you are willing to listen to our grievances. Baylore is in a bad state, and you can help—by stepping aside and allowing the rightful king to take your place.”

  The judge raised her feather. “This is not the place to air your political grievances. Please proceed with your evidence in relation to the charges leveled against Her Majesty.”

  I cast a grateful look at the judge, but she was not looking my way.

  “Very well.” My accuser straightened his coat. “I don’t know that there is any evidence needed in relation to the first point, as we are all in agreement that Queen Kalleah is an extractor, and Extractors are banned from the city of Baylore. Unless, of course, Her Majesty wishes to deny that fact?” He raised his eyebrows with polite skepticism.

  This was one charge I had no argument against. It was undeniably true that I should not reside in Baylore in the first place, let alone rule all of Itrea.

  Regardless, I would not let my accuser win without a fight.

  “The law restricting members of the forbidden races from living in Baylore is for the protection of our citizens,” I said slowly. “It is in place to protect any living near those with forbidden powers. It has no reflection on my right to rule, which is determined through blood and through the nomination of the previous ruler.” It was not a very solid argument, and I regretted mentioning blood as soon as the word slipped out, because my defense would be easily dismissed if I was unable to convince the judges I was my father’s true heir.

  “Permission to speak, Your Honor?”

  I turned at the unfamiliar voice—for a moment I could not locate the woman who had spoken, because even standing, she was shorter than most around her. She wore a loose gown more like a robe, with flowing sleeves and a rope at the belt, and her grey hair threaded with black was braided down her neck.

  At the judge’s nod, the woman said, “I am the headmistress of Backwater College. We are a government-sanctioned organization aligned with Baylore University, and we take in and train members of the forbidden races to use their powers safely. We monitor these students carefully, and at the slightest hint of abuse of their powers, we personally arrange their arrest. Our—”

  An uproar from the back of the room drowned out the headmistress.

  “Blatant corruption!” a blond man shouted. “The magic races have conspired against us to seize power and cover their tracks.”

  Those seated around him roared their agreement.

  “That’s not right, hiding something like that from the public!” another man bellowed.

  “Maybe that’s where the murderers came from—the queen is working with Backwater College to gather an army of Extractors to do her bidding!”

  “Quiet!” the judge roared. She had been waving her feather to no avail. “Anyone who interrupts again will be escorted immediately from the courtroom.”

  The indignant townspeople quieted, though they continued to shift and mutter to one another. At the front of the room, the judges—save the woman leading the trial—scribbled on thick wads of parchment.

  Not looking the least bit cowed, the headmistress cleared her throat and continued. “The original wording of the law allowed forbidden races to reside in Baylore as long as they are properly monitored and contained. This is what Backwater College achieves, and, I would argue, what the position of queen also entails. If we can prove Queen Kalleah was not responsible for any of the recent murders, we can conclude that her role as a public figure creates a situation in which she is subject to the same degree of monitoring as those legal residents of Backwater College.”

  The headmistress sat smartly, while around her, townsfolk stared at her with bloodlust in their eyes. I admired her bravery—she had put her own safety and that of her students on the line in defense of the only monarch who might care for their wellbeing.

  “Thank you,” the judge said. “And now for the second charge—that Queen Kalleah is not the true daughter of King Baltheor.”

  “Where is the king anyway?” a voice shouted from the back of the room. “Have you done away with him as well? He never supported you.”

  The palace guards shoved aside a few onlookers, but seemed unable to locate the man who had interrupted.

  “May I speak?” I asked.

  The judge nodded.

  “This matter is irrelevant. When my legitimacy was brought into question, a palace vote was held, in accordance with law. Since I gained support from ten percent of the palace, I could have been a commoner and still maintained my rightful claim to the throne. There is no cause for debate in this matter, as we have followed the lawful procedure to determine my legitimacy.”

  “That is correct, and anyone who wishes to research the matter further can refer to the Marrelia Law to read the particulars. We will proceed, then, to the third accusation.”

  My accuser inclined his head to the judge, a small smile playing at his lips. “No matter what Queen Kalleah says to the contrary, she cannot deny that the body count racked up in the first short spans of her rule has far exceeded that of any peace-time monarch since the founding of Baylore.”

  That was not strictly true—the Red Plague had decimated the city centuries ago—but it would not serve me to mention this.

  “The manner of death is suspicious, because it points to the work of either Extractors or Flamespinners.” He gestured to Cal, who sat in the first row beside his mother. “For many, no cause of death is evident, and all of these have occurred in rooms with no sign of forced entry. Whether these are the direct work of Queen Kalleah or the work of accomplices—” here he gave a mocking half-bow to the headmistress of Backwater College “—they are clearly tied to the queen. The bodies that appear to be the work of Flamespinners are most disturbing of all, since they indicate even legal magic powers can be deadly.”

  “We are not here to debate the relative merits of different magic races,” the judge said curtly.

  “Apologies, Your Honor. However, I think I speak for all those gathered here today when I say none of us feel safe at
night as long as Queen Kalleah rules. Our city would be much safer if she were no longer living within its walls.”

  “I cannot speak for the perpetrators, nor the motives behind any of these murders,” I said, without waiting for the judge’s cue, “because I had no hand in them. Until this day, I was unaware that other members of the forbidden races existed within Baylore. I can certainly prove my own innocence—I have had guards watching over my room every night, and they are here to vouch for me. Besides, I cannot see why anyone would accuse me of these murders. What possible motive could I have for killing my own people?”

  “One of the bodies belonged to a spokesman for the Truthbringers,” my accuser said swiftly. “Surely you had sufficient cause to eliminate him.”

  “I have nothing to do with his death, and I dearly hope none of my supporters took matters into their own hands and attacked them in service of me. But he is only one out of at least ten bodies discovered in the past few spans. The others were killed seemingly at random.” I fought to keep frustration from tainting my voice. “I took the throne as Itrea’s most hated monarch, and I have done everything within my power to prove myself a worthy ruler. The last thing I would want to do is sabotage my own reputation, so why would I start killing people at random, or asking my supporters to do the same? If numerous Truthbringers had died, I would be a reasonable suspect, but this? I would have to be insane to attack my subjects without cause.”

  One of the guards standing beside the front row of seats took a step forward. “Permission to speak, Your Honor?”

  The judge nodded. I thought he looked familiar, but he was not one of the guards who kept watch outside my suite.

  “I was recently employed by the Reycoran family, and around the time I began my work in the Cheltish wing of Baylore Palace, I noticed a room that was sometimes visited by certain members of the royal family, but which always remained closed and locked.”

  I went cold. This was no guard of mine; he had to be another traitor, another man conspiring with Wistin to help carry out the murders within the palace.

  “After some investigation, I learned it was the home of not one but two Extractors who had come to the palace to seek refuge—one of whom now resides in the city cells.”

  I swallowed, gripping my skirts with sweaty hands. It was too late to silence him now. The watching crowd had gone still, hanging on his every word.

  “One of these Extractors was a young man named Wistin. He seemed friendly enough, despite his affliction. Recently I was given orders to help carry a large chest from the tower where Queen Kalleah once resided down to the royal safe—we were told the tower was about to be refurbished, so Queen Kalleah’s belongings needed to be relocated.”

  He knows. My hands shook; I clutched my skirts more tightly than ever, trying to still them.

  “I grew curious when a different pair of guards was later asked to relocate that same chest to a remote corner of the cellars. Around the same time, I noticed that Wistin had disappeared with no explanation or warning. I was beginning to grow suspicious, so I went in search of the chest.” The guard bowed to the judge. “Your Honor, may I bring in the evidence?”

  “Of course.”

  I sat rigid as he hurried from the courtyard. This was the end. Even Mother might turn against me once she knew the truth.

  Could I flee?

  My eyes darted around the courtroom—there was no entrance aside from the heavily guarded main doors. I might lose more than just my throne. This could be a death sentence.

  The guard returned moments later with the chest from my tower, carried between six townspeople. In the brief time the doors hung open, several more onlookers pushed their way in.

  “If you are easily startled, I recommend you leave the room,” the guard said.

  No one left, though a few townspeople backed away from the aisle.

  With a flourish, the guard unlatched the chest—the padlock had already been cut—and flung it open.

  Though I could not make out the contents of the chest, the sickly odor of decay hit me at once.

  27

  The King’s Sentence

  G asps rippled through the crowd, and chaos broke out as those at the back pushed their way forward, perversely fascinated, while those nearby struggled to give the body a wider berth.

  “That will do,” the judge called. “Please remove that from the courtroom. We have seen enough.”

  The guard let the top of the chest fall closed with a ringing thud, though the reek of decay lingered. From the back of the room, I heard retching.

  “Who gave the orders to relocate the chest each time?” the judge asked over the noise of the crowd.

  “Queen Kalleah.”

  All eyes returned to me.

  “Murderer!” someone shouted.

  “That man was responsible for killing an innocent servant,” I said tightly. “He was hired by the Truthbringers to frame me for murder.”

  “Liar!”

  “Demon!”

  “You shoulda listened to us—she’s been out to get us from the start!”

  It was the cue my people had been waiting for.

  Shouts reverberating through the high-ceilinged courtroom, the townsfolk surged forward, shoving past the guards, vengeance in their eyes.

  “We must return to the palace,” Mother cried. “Guards, restrain this crowd!”

  As I started for the door, several burly men forced their way past my guards and seized my arms.

  “She needs to answer for her crimes,” one growled.

  “Don’t you dare lay a hand on me! I am still your queen, and it is treason to manhandle me this way.” My voice sounded commanding, despite the way my pulse raced and my hands shook.

  Tearing my assailants’ hands off me, my guards surrounded me in a human shield. Together we forced our way to the entrance and broke into a run down the street, city guards clearing the path before us. Even so, the dozens of armed guards were hardly effective against the weight of the crowd that pushed in from all sides. People flung rocks and eggs and clods of mud; many hit their mark, so I was half blinded as I ran, sludge dripping into my eyes and sliding down my neck.

  I was gasping by the time I reached the palace, a stich in my side, tears blurring my eyes.

  “We need to barricade the doors,” Quendon said. “This mob might attack the palace directly.”

  Even as the palace gates clanged shut behind us, something small and painfully hard slammed against my shoulders; I stumbled forward and caught myself on Quendon’s arm.

  “No,” I said. “We can’t let them attack.” I wiped a sleeve across my face, trying to clear away the accumulated muck, until I could see clearly again. Then I turned to the crowd.

  “My people!” My voice cracked, and tears fogged my vision once again. “I will step aside and pass the throne to Prince Leoth. The palace is now his—please return to your homes and leave us in peace.”

  The shouts only grew louder at my words.

  “That’s not enough! You’ve gotta pay for your crimes, demon!”

  “Bring her down!”

  “We’ll burn the palace to the ground!”

  Stones rained on us, and I was forced to run farther up the steps to avoid a fist-sized rock flying at my head. The guards hustled the rest of my supporters into the shelter of the palace, but I stood my ground.

  “Stop this at once!”

  People surged forward, pressed against the gates, and some began climbing atop the shoulders of others, dropping over the top into the palace grounds.

  “You need to get inside, Your Majesty,” Quendon said urgently. “It’s not safe for you here.”

  The guards dashed back down the steps to hold back the encroaching crowd, but as they did, someone fired a rock from a slingshot into the window above the main entrance. The glass shattered and crashed down onto the steps, one piece glancing off my cheek, and the mob roared in excitement.

  “Inside!” Quendon insisted, hand on my shou
lder.

  “They’re going to destroy the palace. I can’t—”

  “Peace.” Leoth’s voice rang out from the top of the stairs. I whirled to see him standing silhouetted in the doorway, a crown atop his loose curls. He must have known how this trial would end. It was as though he had orchestrated the whole thing.

  This time the crowd stilled.

  “I will not allow Queen Kalleah to escape justice for her crimes. If you swear to cease this attack immediately, I pledge to execute Kalleah at dawn tomorrow. She will burn alive so her power cannot strengthen the Gods of Sin.”

  No. I swayed, only Quendon’s hand on my shoulder holding me upright.

  All around, the crowd whooped and roared in savage pleasure. The noise sounded muffled, as though my ears were stuffed with cotton.

  “As soon as I take the throne, I swear to return power to those who deserve it. The Truthbringers will serve as our new peacekeeping force, and we will rewrite our laws to uphold the righteous values we have long ignored.”

  Cheering rose through the crowd, and several Truthbringers climbed onto the rim of the fountain to salute Leoth.

  I turned and staggered up the steps toward the palace, Quendon still supporting me, mud and slime dripping from my chin onto my bodice.

  This was the end. Baylore would pass into the hands of the Truthbringers, and the magic races would lose everything. My own death was near at hand.

  I had thought Leoth would keep me safe once the throne passed into his hands. But once again, I had put my trust in the wrong person.

  28

  The Executioner

  O n the morning of my execution, I sat on my balcony with my knees up to my chest, the chill wind stripping every last shred of warmth from me as the sun rose in a pale salmon sky.

  I had made so many mistakes. From the moment I allowed Ornan into the palace, I had started putting my own interests before the good of the country. I should have known it would end this way. And perhaps I deserved to die. I had killed a man with my own hand, and covered up another murder. I had not committed most of the crimes the Truthbringers charged me with, but I was far from innocent. Even now, I thought I could smell the sickly stench of decay on the breeze.