by Janeal Falor
“Let's just say it's not my place to judge.”
That's not helpful. “But as your queen, I'm asking for a direct answer.”
“Shh. You don't want to give yourself away.” He moves closer, like he expects someone to dart out with a sword at any moment.
I would push him away, except his presence is soothing. “No one has noticed. Answer the question.”
“Fine. You want to know? I'll tell you. I think the taxes were a horrible idea. It's left very few Medi class. The poor are suffering, and even the rich are feeling its sting.”
I look ahead, at a little girl staring at a table of apples with big, hungry eyes. “I wish I had some money to buy her one.”
Nash doesn't hesitate. He strides over to the stall, purchases several apples, and hands them to the girl.
“Thank you, Mister,” she says, looking at him like he's just saved her life.
Maybe he has.
She scampers off. Nash says, “I should have fed her sooner. Wish I could feed more of them. I’m distracted with trying to protect you.”
“And you don’t have enough money to feed them all.”
“True, but I like to do what I can.”
Am I doing all I can? “There are changes that need to be made.”
“Major ones, that will take a lot of work to make happen.” He continues walking, and I follow beside him.
“I don't know how to go about it.” It's more work than I've had to do before. Ending a life is easy; making a living for a country is hard.
“I'm certain you'll figure out what's best.”
“That's all you're going to give me?” I ask. “You're my Head Advisor. Shouldn't you offer more?”
“What more do you want me to add?” he replies.
“Something. Anything.”
He opens his mouth, and then closes it again.
“What were you going to say?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “It isn't something we need to speak of.”
“Now you've got me even more curious.”
“My advice”—he sounds like he's getting back to the original subject, instead of answering my question—“is that you decide what changes you want to make, and go from there. It might take a law change, convincing people of something, or standing your ground when no one else agrees with you. Whatever it is, you have to set your mind to do it and follow through.”
“Are you certain you haven't been Head Advisor before?” I ask.
He lifts an eyebrow.
“You know what you're talking about is all.” But do I know what to do about it? I'm not sure. Maybe I should start with asking the first queen questions about queens of the past. Experiences they've had. Rules they've made, and the consequences of those laws.
“If you're willing,” Nash says to me, “I think we should return.”
“Yes, I've seen enough.”
More than ever before.
Chapter 31
The first queen stands before me, clear as can be. “So, you found me.”
“I wanted to make certain you're real.”
“That's smart. Good initiative, like a queen needs.”
At least I did one thing right.
“You did more than one thing right. You've done a lot of things right. You're making a lot of progress, a good portion of which is due to Nash.”
“You know Nash?”
“I do. He's good for you. You should open up to him more, instead of arguing with him.”
“Because that would mean opening up with you too.”
“It's true. It would help me as well. That doesn't mean it wouldn't be good for you. If you're not ready to talk to him, are you ready to talk to me?”
“No.” Never. I can't open myself up to secrets that would hurt.
“You have to give in sometime. It's not good to keep things locked up inside.”
I ignore her comment and say, “I need your help.”
“That's why I'm here.”
“How have the other queens ruled? How have they handled changing laws and doing what's best for the people?”
She gives me a look that I don't understand, which is strange; I can usually read people. Maybe it's because I'm in a dream. She says, “Queens don't always do what's best for the people.”
“That much is evident. How can I?”
“You need to look into your heart. Your feelings. Deep down, you know what you should do.”
It doesn't feel that way.
“Why is it so hard to find information on you?” I ask.
“Because I existed so long ago. Most knowledge about me was long ago lost or destroyed.”
“Why destroyed?”
“Because people don’t always appreciate what they have. Which is why I imbued myself into the Mortum Tura with magic. I knew things would be misplaced over time, but I wouldn't go missing, as long as they used the chalice to choose a new queen.”
“How did you make the chalice?”
She sits down like she's on a chair, but really, she just floats in the middle of the blurry, colored space. “That is a story for another time. For now, we need to learn about your worth.”
“I'd rather learn about the chalice.”
“Of course you would, which is part of the reason it's so important to discuss your value. You're over an entire kingdom now. You can't be taking risks like climbing up the side of the building. What if you fell?”
“I never fall.”
“But what if you did?”
I jolt awake. What was that sound?
There it is again—a faint patter of steps.
I slowly reach under my pillow and grab my dagger. Whoever it is, they aren’t going to take my life. The first queen has a point. I'm over a whole country now. Besides, I won't be killed in my bed.
The whistle of something moving quickly though the air is the only warning I get that a knife is hurtled toward me. I dodge out of the way and then spring up on my feet. I take a step toward the window, where my attacker is, and kick him square in the chest.
He falls with a grunt. There's not time to light a candle and see who it is. I crouch down, dagger in hand, ready to attack.
There's a shuffle of movement from my attacker, but he’s moving away from me, not closer. My attacker is scared. I run toward the noise. A shadow moves. I jump on it, putting my dagger to its neck.
The person tries to shove me off, but I cling to them. “Move, and I'll jam this dagger through your neck,” I say.
My attacker freezes in place.
“Guards,” I call out as loud as I can. I don't need them, but it'd make things easier. Especially since my attacker is big. I'm glad I already I had my dagger to his throat before I realized how big he is. Not that it would have stopped me, but maybe I wouldn't have been so quick to jump on him, and the fight would have lasted longer. It would have been nice to spar with someone like I’m used to.
My door opens, and my two guards come in, one holding up a candle.
“Crimany,” one of them says.
The other jumps to action, pulling out his sword and putting the blade between me and the big man. I pry myself from the attacker, who has a mean grin.
“Are you all right, My Queen?” Afet asks.
Before I can answer, the attacker swings around and knocks to the ground the soldier who drew out his sword. I throw my dagger at the burly man, and the blade sinks a couple inches into his back.
He howls and barrels at me. I jump back as his sword swings my way. Afet has no such problems. He knocks the attacker's sword with his own. Soon, the sound of metal against metal fills the room.
The first guard gets to his feet and glances at me.
“Go for help,” I tell him.
Not that we have much use for it. By the time assistance arrives, this fight will be long over. The guard listens, though, and runs from the room. That or he's a coward.
The attacker doesn't seem to care about the guard going for help. He keeps at Afet, trying to
get to me. I circle around with Afet as he moves to avoid being hit.
An opening appears. I pull back my arm, ready to throw, but at the last second I stop myself. It's that or have the blade embedded in the huge man's heart. I want to let it go, but I promised myself I wouldn't kill again. Even if it's to defend my own life, I can't bring myself to break that promise.
The moment is gone.
“Get out of my way,” the attacker yells at Afet.
“On my honor, I won't leave the queen.”
“She's no royal.” The man growls and hurls himself into the fight.
I dive down and watch the men's feet move like a dance. As soon as Afet lunges to the side, I spring up and jam my dagger into the man's thigh.
He howls and flashes his blade my way. I dive back, but before I get there, Afet's sword blocks my attacker's.
The huge man continues to fight, even with my blade jammed in his leg. He leans heavily on his good one, his swordsmanship more than making up for his injury. I pull myself toward the bed and grab two more daggers from under my pillow.
Afet cries out. He's been hurt, a line of blood welling up across his arm. If I didn't know he was on my side before, now would tell me he is at least trying to appear that way. Not that I can ever be sure. I let my daggers go, one right after another, to sink into the attacker’s upper left shoulder and his sword hand.
He drops his sword with a grunt. Even as it clangs to the floor, I'm grabbing another blade and running toward him. His good hand also has a dagger in it, but that doesn't stop me. I move right up to him, block his dagger with one hand, and press a blade to his neck with the other.
“Don't move.” Venom oozes through my words.
“Are you well, Your Majesty?” Afet asks.
“Fine.” Though I wouldn't be if I hadn’t woken up.
The attacker isn't only big but has a scowl on his meaty lips. It's not enough to scare me. Is he sent from the same person as the others, or are there up to three people who want to take my life?
Knowing I'm not going to get an answer, I ask, “Who sent you?”
“Someone who wants you dead.”
Afet shoves him to his knees, his arm still bleeding. “Your queen asked you a question.”
The man has the audacity to laugh.
Thoughts of the torture I've been through hum to life. I'm confident I could get answers out of him, but at what cost? Could I forgive myself for becoming like Daros?
Guards run into the room, but I only pay them enough attention to make certain they're not a threat.
“You're going to spend a long time in the dungeon, unless you tell me who sent you,” I say to my attacker. I'm confident he won't care, but I have to try.
“There's nothing you can do to me that'd make me admit anything,” my attacker says.
Which makes me think of Daros sending him again. But he can't be the only cruel person out there. It could be anyone. “Take him away.”
“I'll get him to the dungeon,” Afet says. “We'll find out what we can from him.”
“Thank you, gentleman. That will be all.”
The guards leave the room with little fuss from my attacker, but Afet stays behind.
“Are you all right?” I ask him.
“It's a scratch.”
A guard goes to the window. “There doesn't seem to be anyone else out there.”
I nod. That doesn't mean I'm safe, though. I've got to find out who's sending these men after me.
Chapter 32
Once I’m by myself again, Nash rushes in the room. “Did he hurt you?”
He checks me over, moving his hands fervently over me. It's a pleasant sensation, until he stops.
Stepping back, he says, “Sorry. I got carried away. I don't know what I would do if he hurt you.”
“I'm fine. I woke before he attacked.”
“If you didn’t…”
“But I did.”
His caring for me is more than I expected. I thought he enjoyed my company, but not to this extent. It makes my heart warm.
He goes to the window and checks outside, like the guard did moments earlier. “I'll have guards I trust stationed outside your window at all times.”
“That's not necessary.”
He takes a step closer. “I assure you, it is. We would be lost without you. I'd be lost without you. I promise to do everything in my power to make certain you have a long reign.”
Why is it that it's easier to believe him than it is to believe myself? “Why do you say ‘we would be lost without you?’ I haven’t done much yet.”
“But you will. I can tell you’re going to save the people from their current circumstances.”
How does he know that? I don’t even know that.
“I'm going to spend the rest of the night outside your room,” he says.
“You don't have to do that. You should get some rest.”
“I do. I'll be fine.”
Despite the heat blossoming through me, I say, “You're going to be falling asleep at our meetings tomorrow.”
“If that's what it takes to keep you safe, I'll do it.”
“I can keep myself safe.”
He gives a half-smile. “Be that as it may, extra caution never hurt anything. I'm going to make certain you don't have to protect yourself any more than you have to.”
This brings something to mind. “Have there been other attacks I'm not aware of?”
He drops his gaze. “I'm afraid there have been a few more. I've interrogated the men myself, but no one is talking. Now,” Nash says, “try to get some sleep. I'll be around, so yell if you need anything. Anything at all.”
“I will.” Possibly.
He goes to the door and gives me another glance. “You're sure you're all right?”
“I'm perfectly well.” Except for the shaking in my knees. No matter how many times my life is threatened, I’m always reminded of Daros.
Nash’s gaze travels the length of me. Can he see my trembling? With a nod, he leaves and closes the door.
I hurt.
Why? I don't know. It's deep inside and makes me wish he didn't have to leave.
After checking the room and seeing there are guards outside my window, I move toward my bed. I'd like to climb up to the roof, but there's going to be none of that tonight. What time is it? It feels very late.
I plop onto my bed. It's surprising how quickly I got used to its softness. After a night like tonight, though, I can't bring myself to sleep on it. Instead, I drop down to the floor, on the side farthest from the window. I pull a pillow off the bed and settle it under my head.
The night is dark. Listless. I close my eyes.
The next thing I know, light is streaming in above the bed. Morning's here. How did I not toss and turn more? How wasn’t I riddled with fears? No nightmares. No lady in green. Nothing but soothing sleep.
I roll over. Nash sits with his back against the wall.
I brush the sleepiness from my eyes. “What are you doing?”
“I was so worried about you, I couldn't stay away. I had to make certain you were safe.”
Peace hums through me. “I have guards watching over me. Not to mention my own skills.”
“I know. It should be enough, but the thought that something might happen to you kept haunting me. I couldn't take that chance.”
Dark circles hang under his eyes. His gaze, though, is peaceful. More than that—something is in it. Something I can't read. “You should have gotten some sleep, but…” Can I tell him? I must. “I'm grateful for your caring.”
“It's the least I can do.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because it's true. You're worth taking care of.”
I flush. Nothing like this has ever been said about me before. My only value has been my proficiency at killing. That doesn't matter to him. Somehow, he genuinely cares for me.
“Nash, I—”
“Breakfast,” Inkga says coming in through the door.
“What are you doing on the floor?”
I give her a sheepish smile. “It's more comfortable.”
“Hmpf.” She brings the tray over to me. I sit up, and she sets it on my lap. “Nash thought you might like this brought in here this morning, after the commotion of last night. It’s been checked over by the new court poison checker”
“That was… thoughtful.” I am in awe of Nash.
Utter awe.
It's the most anyone has ever done for me—thinking of my needs. I don't know how to respond.
“Do you need a tray, Nash?” Inkga asks, interrupting my thoughts.
“No. I should get going.” He stands. “I have some guards I need to speak to this morning, and a prisoner who needs attention.”
I make to move the tray. “I'm coming with.”
“It's all right, Your Majesty,” he says. “I've got everything under control, and I will report back to you when I'm finished.”
He bows his head toward me, nods at Inkga, and is out of the room. I stare at the closed door.
“He is rather handsome, isn't he?” Inkga says. “I know the queen can't have relations, but he's mighty fine to look at.”
Jem said as much about relations earlier, but I didn't pay attention. Now I wish it were otherwise.
Chapter 33
“Jem is set to speak with you this morning,” Inkga tells me as she pins my short locks off my face.
Another night with no dreams or first queen. I don't mind, though. “I need to find out what's going on with the prisoners.” I can't wait for Nash's word. The thought of them down there, knowing who sent them, eats at me.
“And you will. After you speak with Jem.”
“Very well, then.” But I can't help but think of the prisoners, even as she finishes helping me get ready and I go to the sitting room.
Moments later, there's a knock on my door. Inkga answers it for me, presents Jem, and then leaves us.
Jem curtsies and picks the chair one over from mine. Perhaps we need a buffer between us, to prevent any major confrontations.
“What have you come to speak about?” I ask.
“Your Majesty, first, I wanted to say I'm sorry.”
Not what I expected. “For what?”
