by Janeal Falor
That’s compelling. “You believe that loyalty extends to me?”
“I do.”
“And Eldim?”
“He has a habit of not listening to those who would sway him away from the crown, but I haven’t seen him do anything to defend the queen to a degree that would imply absolute loyalty.”
That's something to think about.
A knock on the sitting room door draws my attention.
Nash answers it. After a moment, he comes back in the room with several large papers in hand. “These are the maps of the palace.”
“There are so many.” I don't know what I expected, but not this. The print is tiny and the paper so gigantic, it’s hard to imagine anything being of that size.
“The palace has been added onto over the years. Many rulers wanted to make it bigger. Give of herself to the building, in some way.”
He moves to the side of the bed, and I follow.
He spreads the papers across the mattress. “The palace, for your perusal. I imagine it will take weeks before it's committed to your memory, but this here”—he points to a few squares halfway down the page and to the right—“are your rooms. If you start here and work outward, you'll get it in time.” He draws a line toward a large rectangle. “This room is where the Mortum Tura is taken.” He moves to a slightly smaller rectangle, not far off. “And this is where most of your interactions will take place. The government uses this room most often. The other pages are different floors of the palace, should you need to use one of the upper rooms.”
“More rooms than anyone needs, just on this one floor.”
“Rightly so, but they are here all the same. Do you think you'll have a problem transferring the map to the real world?”
“None.” He'll be surprised by how quickly I pick things up. I'm a fast learner.
We pore over the map. Despite this, it feels like there's so much I need to know, yet so little I care about.
When I let out a yawn, I know it's past usefulness’s time. “You will come back in the morning and tell me more.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“You're promoted to Head”—I wave my hand around like a dunce—“Whatever.”
“Head Whatever. Everyone will look up to me.”
My lips twitch. “What position would you suggest?”
“I don't need a position to help you, but you will have to release me from the army. While I can protect you when I’m here, I also hold duties that are beyond you.”
“I want you to have a position anyway. Ranen is the Head Advisor. That's your new title.”
“I'm just a simple guard.”
“Not anymore.”
He stands, getting out of that chair that has to be really uncomfortable. “At least I can offer you protection while I'm at your side.”
“I don't need protection.”
“That much is evident from what I heard about you taking down the would-be assassin. Still, it doesn’t hurt to have someone else watching your back.”
I wonder what that would be like—to have someone I can truly trust help keep me safe. It's not something I can fathom. Besides, no matter what Nash says, there's no way I can trust him. There's no one I can trust, except myself.
Chapter 8
Despite being tired, I can't sleep. It's just as well; nightmares are not welcome. Images of things I've done come back to haunt me with glaring cruelty when I sleep. Blood, daggers, poison—it's all there, always waiting for me to try to rest so they can torment me.
I wish there were pants in my new drawers besides a whole lot of nothing. The ones I wore when I came in have disappeared. Not caring about the material of the outfit I’m wearing, I strip down to the flimsy dress I had on earlier.
When it's all I have on, I pull out a blade and cut off the skirt just above the knees. The material drops to the carpet. I slice the sides of the skirt for maneuverability. Once ready, I slip to my window. The white wall outside that goes around the entire palace grounds is teaming with soldiers. They're all facing outward, though. No one is looking toward my rooms. They probably think the outside wall of the palace is unscaleable, but there are enough juts in the stone to make it work. I sneak out my window and scurry up the wall.
I pass by several windows, one of which has a light in. I peek inside to find Ranen, drinking and writing something down. I wonder what notes he's making, but I don't stick around to find out. The rest of the rooms are empty or their occupants have gone to bed.
I keep climbing until I get to the roof, where I begin wandering around. It's a familiar movement, even if this roof is huger. I used to escape to the roof after a beating from Daros. Well, one of his men he hired out. He wouldn't dirty his hands with a beating. He would do other things, though. Torture me with hot oil or shove me underwater until I thought I was going to die. Choking was one of his favorite things to do to me.
The memories are too strong. They have me curling into a ball with only my eyes sticking out over my knees. My stomach roils. It's true he wouldn't torture me often during the last few years. Had to keep me in my prime, he said. But that didn't mean it never happened anymore. It was at least a weekly occurrence. I couldn’t ever seem to behave as he wanted me to.
I'm trembling, and not from the cold. I hold myself together more tightly, trying to force away the thoughts. Evil exists and isn’t hard to find at all. Everyone seems to be full of it. No one ever had a problem beating me for Daros. No one offered true care or sympathy.
Not until I saw her eyes.
I force several blinks as tears come, and I think on something else. I was trained to do one thing I didn’t want to do. Why did I have to be abandoned by my parents? Why did Daros have to be the one to take me in?
I never understood. Never will.
I drag my gaze across the landscape before me, hoping to find release from my thoughts. From the roof, the city of Indell looks almost alive. The capitol rarely sleeps. Lights flicker like twinkling stars, as far as I can see. The city goes on and on. How am I over not only this city but a whole country? I don't know, but it's beautiful.
But beauty is ice, crystalline at first but melting easily.
Three of the five moons shine down on me, the red-tinted one in the middle and the white ones on each side. They seem to know something I don't. I'm sure they've seen more of this country than I ever will. What's more, they’ve seen foreign lands. How different would my life be if my parents abandoned me in another country, away from Daros?
Did any previous queens find themselves up here, staring down at the country they ruled? If they did, I bet they didn't get here by climbing.
I wish I had the chance to talk to one of them, so they could give me some idea what to expect. Words from a woman who actually ruled, not a pompous guy who believes he should be ruling instead.
How am I supposed to do this job? Even with Nash's help, it’s like I'm lost in the mountains, surrounded by carnivorous animals. It’s not been a full day yet. This is ridiculous and impossible. Why did I have to pick a way to die that would lead to more trouble than I've ever had?
Do I want my life? I don't think I do, but things feel different now. I'm not sure how, but the gnawing ache inside my chest isn't as painful.
I scout out the roof until I'm bone weary. I'll explore farther tomorrow. For now, I climb back down to my room, change into a nightdress, and plop onto the bed.
Even if sleep is long in coming, I'm done thinking on things I can do nothing about. I clear my mind and wait for morning.
Chapter 9
As I lie in bed with my eyes closed, the night flickers with images I can't quite place. I try to bring one into focus, but it stays blurry and far gone. I push and pull at it, doing whatever I can to make it come closer. To see what or who is invading my dreams.
But nothing happens.
I sit up, leaning against my headboard, ready to wait it out until morning. It shouldn't be long now, and at least it's not a nightmare. Just a fuzz of
something I should know, but I can't put my finger on it.
As soon as I stop tugging, the image straightens out. It looks like a woman… Yes, it is a woman. I can't tell if she's Kurah or Poruah class. She's not fat, but she's not all bones either. Her hair is long and blonde, her eyes a vivid green. Her dress matches her eyes and waves like there is wind, but I feel none. A large emerald necklace sits just below her collarbone.
She smiles, and the feel of it makes me want to cry. To put my head on her shoulder and tell her my problems.
But I don't.
I back away.
People like this can’t be trusted.
“Aren't we a shy one?” she says, her voice a smooth alto.
“Who are you?” I demand.
“You already sound like a queen.”
I lift my chin, though all I want is to get away from this woman who seems to see into my soul.
“My… You're much different from your predecessors.”
“You know about the other queens?” What am I saying? This is only a dream.
“I know about them all.”
Sure she does. She knows as much as I do because she's a figment of my brain made excruciatingly real.
“I'm sorry about the nightmares,” she says.
My imagination is sorry. How cute. It's much better than the nightmares themselves, though.
“You don't have to pretend to be strong around me.”
“Who said anything about pretending?” I counter.
“You didn't have to say anything at all.” She reaches toward me, but I jerk away.
“Don't touch me,” I say.
“If it's a dream, why do you care?”
I feel for my daggers, but they aren't here. None of my weapons are. They’re the one thing I can always count on in my dreams, and now they're gone.
“It doesn't matter,” she says. “There's not much time left. I need you to know something.”
I eye her, not trusting a thing that comes out of her mouth, even if she's my imagination. No one is to be trusted. “What?”
“I care about you. I'm sorry you wished to die, but I'm glad you didn't. I need you here. Please, fall asleep so you can come back to visit me tomorrow night.” Her words roll off me.
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
She ignores me. “It's good that you protected yourself when you were attacked. Keep that instinct. Keep it.”
She fades back into fuzz. This time, I push the image away.
Chapter 10
First thing the next morning, I'm fitted for new clothes. I stand in nothing but my underthings in the bedroom.
“Tut-tut,” the seamstress says as she measures me. “Too skinny.”
But it's muscle. I'm fast. I'm strong.
I'm not like anyone else here. I won’t belong.
When the seamstress is done, half a dozen of my maids help me get ready for the day. I want to go back to bed. The process of getting ready is exhausting and too extensive. Of course, after my weird dream, I’m not sure how I feel about it. It’s better than the terrors of blood and pain that rule my nightmares.
Clothing item after clothing item is buttoned and tied and corseted on—more than I've ever worn before at one time. Layers of jewels, hair, and makeup are added. It's too much. Nothing at all like who I am, but I let them for now. I'm tired of arguing, and they've been fairly strict about this. It's funny how pushy these women can be. It reminds me of Daros, but I don't want to think on him as they finish getting me ready.
I move to my sitting room, where Jem and another lady in waiting are sitting. They stand as I enter.
“Your Majesty.” Jem curtsies. “We are here to teach you proper etiquette.”
Joy. “Who is this with you?”
“Inyi, Your Highness,” Jem replies.
There's a beauty to Inyi. Glowing skin. Golden brown hair and eyes. She looks as if the sun kissed her at birth.
“If you will follow us,” Jem says.
They lead me out the door, and several bodyguards follow. I hate having them behind me, even if I can handle them. They could attack at any moment.
We wind through corridors that I know from the maps. When we come to a small room with a few chairs and a low table, we stop.
One of the guards goes in first, checking to make certain there’s no one hiding. Once he gives the all clear and takes up residence outside the doorway, I trudge in. Though it's small, like I first thought, it's still bigger than my old bedroom. The typical landscape pictures hang on the cream-colored walls. The chairs are a dark-brown wood, wide but hard.
I remain standing, not wanting to sit in a hard chair, and they do the same. It’s not that I can’t handle a hard chair, it’s that after everything I’ve been through, if I can avoid one, I will. “What about proper etiquette?” I ask.
“First off, you should sit, in consideration of us. We can't take a chair until you do,” Jem says.
Not happening. These things are too uncomfortable. But if comfort is not a concern for them, who am I to stop them? “Sit.”
“Your Majesty,” Inyi says, “we couldn't possibly do so without you first taking a seat.”
“Sit.” My order rings out.
The girls settle down in two chairs against the wall, away from the window. Jem's lips thin. She's miffed. Too bad for her. Inyi is wide eyed, like she's stunned by my words.
“What else?”
“Your Majesty, a queen shows concern for those around her,” Jem says. “She thinks of others.”
“Why should I think of others, when they've never thought of me?” It's rude but true.
“Because you are their leader now,” Inyi says. “Your thoughts should always be about them first.”
Her words stir me. Not that I'd admit it. The queen has always been self-centered, even if she shows some outward caring like sitting for others to rest. “Moving on.”
Jem opens her mouth like she's going to say more on the matter, but Inyi stops her with an elbow to the side. Jem glares at her but covers the expression.
“You must learn how to enter a room,” Jem says. “When entering a room, the queen must first look to the right and then the left.”
I snort. “Why?”
“Because”—she huffs—“Your Majesty, the higher the ranking official, the more to the right side of the room they are. They get closer to you the higher up they go. It's an honor and a privilege to have the right side directly next to the queen.”
Layers of meaning that matter little to me. Those who are thought to be the highest ranking might be the biggest scum. “Give me something else.”
Jem pulls her chin upward, making it wrinkle her chin. I'm getting to her. “You mustn’t touch the back of a chair, even when sitting in it,” she says.
This has to be a joke. The chairs are already torture devices, there's no sense in making them worse. “Why?”
She sputters.
Inyi says, “It isn't done. You need to appear regal and strong, no matter the circumstance. Sitting up tall and not relying on anything, even the back of a chair, proves this.”
“It proves little.” Except that one can sit in horrid situations for a long time. What's the point of that?
Inyi clears her throat. “Yes, well… Why don't you give it a try?”
“Are these the things you were learning to do before taking the Mortum Tura?”
“These are the basics,” Jem says. “We learned so much more over the years. Take me, for example. I've been studying to be queen since I was eight.”
And I've been training to kill longer than that. “And you're how old now?”
“Twenty. Though I must say, Your Majesty, it's considered impolite to ask.”
Ignoring her chiding, I say, “Why were you training when there was still a queen on the throne? Isn't that disloyal to the current queen?”
“Not at all. There are those training to be queen even now. We, ladies in waiting happened to be the ones who were r
eady to drink the Mortum Tura.”
I focus my attention on her. “That doesn't explain how you remained loyal.”
“We all know queens die quickly, Your Highness.” She averts her gaze.
“Are you implying that I'm going to die soon?”
“Not at all”—her glare says otherwise; she'd see me dead now if she could—“But we should focus back on getting you up to par.”
I let it drop. After all, I won't be around once I figure out who sent the assassin. Will I?
“Now, we must get you a pet,” she says.
“What in all of Valcora would I do with a pet?”
“It shows your status. Only the wealthy have pets, because they can afford to. It would be most—”
“I know that,” I say. “It doesn't answer why I should have one.”
“You have enough wealth to display one now,” Inyi says. “We could get you a tiger, a dog, a monkey, or any other animal you desire.”
Another rule I won't follow. Daros said pets make you soft. Unable to do your job. I turn to face the window, eyes burning at the memory of how he made me kill a stray cat I brought home when I was little.
Nothing like that will ever happen again. “Moving on,” I say.
“We need to think about your portrait,” Jem says. “Queens have one made the first month of their reign.”
I'm beginning to think there isn't a rule I will follow. “My likeness is not to be displayed in any way.” Daros could find me and take me back.
“But Your Majesty,” Inyi says, “the people need to see what you look like.”
“I said no.” My voice is sharper than I intended, but I can't risk him discovering where I am. No one can know I belonged to him. No one can know I am an assassin. It doesn’t matter if the Mortum Tura chose me, the people will demand my death if they know I’m a killer instead of a ruler. My position is risky enough as it is.
Inyi starts to protest, but Jem stops her. “Let the queen think what she wants. We can only do our best to teach her our ways. If she won't have them, she won't last much longer.”
