[Death's Queen 01.0] Death's Queen

by Janeal Falor

  “Now,” I say, “I have to do this in public, eventually, but I'd like you to become my Head Servant.”

  She gasps. “Why would you want to do that?”

  “Because you're courageous—well, mostly—and you will tell me the truth.”

  “I don't know what to say.”

  “Tell me you accept the position.”

  “I accept the position.”

  “Good.”

  She hesitates, and then says, “What is it exactly that you want me to do?”

  “For starters, these dresses are horrid.”

  Inkga laughs—a high, sparkling sound. “I'm glad you think so too. The last Head Servant picked them out under Borkus's tutelage. They thought they were fitting for a queen.”

  “Some queen, but not me.”

  “No. I think you'd do much better with less lacy and more sleek.”

  “I'm already glad I upgraded your position.”

  “A redone wardrobe. That's simple,” she says. “What else can I do to please you?”

  “Pants. Clothes with lots of places to stash weapons. And less servants would be good. All this prancing about me drives me mad.”

  “It's not technically my job, but I’ll pass the word onto the Head of Staff and make sure she gets it done. Anything else?”

  “I'll let you know when there is.” I'm surprised she said nothing about my need to stash weapons. The seamstresses had better do a good job of it.

  “I will go get started on your new wardrobe, my lady.” She curtsies and hurries toward the door.

  “Inkga,” I force myself to say the next words before she leaves to go to her duties, “thank you for accepting this new position.”

  She almost smiles. “Of course.” With another curtsy, she's gone.

  One less thing for me to worry about. Though I fear there are a lot more important things on my plate I'm not as certain about how to handle.

  Chapter 22

  Nash is drilling me on the government officials and laws and has been for three hours. I'm getting a headache.

  “Did you know it's a law that only women can ask for a man's hand in marriage?”

  That gets my attention. “I thought that was only custom.”

  “Nope. It's law.”

  I should fix that one.

  “You don't seem to know a lot about common law.”

  I shrug.

  “Were you aware that it's a death sentence if you don't pay your taxes?”

  “I wasn't.” No clue at all. It explains why so many people go hungry, choosing a slow death instead of a quick one by the state.

  “It's caused a lot of heated debate, but the last queen was positive she wanted it that way, no matter what anyone said.”

  “She sounds like a tyrant.”

  A knock sounds. Nash answers it and turns to me. “Your ladies in waiting have requested an audience.”

  Just what I don't want on top of these lessons. I wave my hand. “Tell them to come back later.”

  He lifts an eyebrow but doesn't comment. After turning them away, he returns to his chair. “Moving on,” he says. “Taxes must be paid in coin. No animal or crops allowed. Taxes are collected once a week. Taxes are to be paid to the tax collector without delay. Tax collectors aren't to be harmed on pain of death.”

  The list goes on and on, most of it sounding the same as previous laws. There must be a reason for having so many, but I find it hard to care.

  “Are you listening?” Nash asks, voice patient and kind.

  “Who ruled when the last queen died?”

  “I'll take that as a no.”

  I give him a look.

  With a sigh, he says, “Ranen. The Head Advisor always rules between queens.”

  Is that why he’s so power hungry? He was basically doing my job not that long ago. “Does that mean you'll rule when I'm dead?”

  “It does.” His mouth is tight.

  “How does that make you feel?” I find myself really wanting to know.

  “It doesn't matter.”

  “It matters to me. Tell me.”

  “Fine. It scares me, if you must know. I'm having a hard time guiding you. I don't know what I'd do if I had to lead. Another reason for you to stay alive.”

  Hmm. “I've put you in a difficult position.”

  “It's all right.”

  “I could find someone else to be Head Advisor. Not Ranen, but someone.”

  “Why not Ranen? He's well connected and has a lot of experience.”

  “I don't trust him.”

  “Why not?”

  So many reasons. “Do you trust him?”

  “No.”

  Good. “Probably for the same reasons as you, then. Something about him gives me pause and makes me wonder what he's up to. I want him where he can do the least amount of damage, but where I can still keep an eye on him.”

  “That's why you put him in charge over furniture?”

  “It is.” Part of the reason, anyway.

  He gives a ghost of a smile. “It makes a lot more sense now. But we've gotten off track. We should talk more about the laws you need to know.”

  I huff and pop out of my chair. “If we're going to continue this, can we get a change of scenery? I'm sick of this room. It's too confining.”

  “I'm glad you're taking an interest in more than what's in here.”

  “Any person would go mad, spending all this time in a room.”

  “It's true, and we will go out, but not yet.”

  “What do you mean not yet?” I demand.

  “Well, we could go out, but this is stuff you need to know. You can't be seen going over the government officials in the gardens. You should know them by now. Not knowing them will make you seem weak. And…” He hesitates.

  “And weakness will get me killed.” I roll my eyes. “Like anyone could kill me if they tried.”

  “Want to put a wager on that?”

  I try not to grin. “Wager on what, exactly?”

  “We fight. I win—we continue lessons on government. You win—we go outside and pretend you have no responsibilities.”

  “Problem is, if I win, you'll be dead.”

  He shakes his head, giving a little laugh like he doesn't think I'm serious. “We're not playing until someone dies.”

  “Or you’ll be in a coma.”

  He lets out a huff. “No killing and no putting people in a coma.”

  “Then how will we know when someone wins?”

  He shakes his head with a chuckle. “When the other person gives up.”

  “Then I've already won,” I say. “I never give up.” Neither of us mentions that we're not supposed to touch.

  He smiles, like he has no idea how serious I am. Like he has no idea how much torture I've been through to get where I am. “We'll see.”

  “Fine, then. We play until the other person gives up.” I pull out a regular old dagger to start with. I may as well go easy on him at first.

  “Whoa. No weapons,” he says.

  “Don't worry, this isn't my poisoned dagger.”

  “You have a poisoned dagger?” He shakes his head. “That's probably not the safest idea.”

  “Whyever not?”

  “What if you scratch yourself on accident?”

  “I don’t have accidents. Besides, I've built up an immunity to this type of poison.”

  He gives me a look. “What would make you do that?”

  “I can't tell you my secrets.”

  “You are something else. You know that?” He gives me a look that heats me through.

  I smile. “I'll take that as a compliment.”

  “But seriously, no weapons.”

  My smile fades as I put my dagger back in its hiding place through my skirt pocket. I wonder what the laundress thinks of all the cutting I'm doing to my clothes, for pockets to stash my sheathed daggers in. “Isn't this a little unfair?” I ask.

  “You agreed to the terms. Unless you want to back out now, and we
can continue with our lesson.”

  “I meant unfair to you.”

  He laughs—a big sound that makes my chest feel warm. “I'm not worried about me.”

  “Let's go for this, then.” I start pushing the furniture aside. The one bad thing about comfy chairs is they tend to weigh more than torturous ones.

  “Here?” he asks.

  “Might as well. I'm eager to begin, and it's big.”

  Nash helps, and together we clear a space in the middle of the room.

  “It's probably a little unfair that you're wearing skirts,” he says, loosening up his muscles on the other side of the room.

  “Maybe, but I think it's not enough to even the odds between us.” I stretch my arms, warming them up.

  “You're quite sure of yourself, aren't you?”

  “I have to be.”

  “Because you are the queen?”

  “Because of my secrets.”

  He cocks his head to one side, like he's studying me. “Maybe someday you'll feel like sharing a secret or two with me.”

  “And maybe someday you'll feel like letting my secrets be.”

  “I wouldn't count on it.”

  “And I wouldn't count on my telling you any of them.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “For now.”

  His lips twitch like he's trying not to smile again. “Are you ready to start this?”

  “Only if you are.”

  “Let's go, then.” He crouches down and slowly comes toward me.

  I let him come closer, not making a move.

  “Are you going to try?” he asks.

  “I'm letting you do the hard work.”

  He chuckles. Next thing I know, he's at my side, arms around my waist, pulling me down. I let myself sink to the floor, and then I buck up my legs to kick him in the chest. First injury is mine. I've already won this fight.

  He grunts. “Take those high heels off. They're as bad as a weapon.”

  As he rubs his chest where I kicked him, I take off my shoes and throw them by the furniture.

  He comes at me again.

  I can't help but grin.

  I bend and wrap my arms around his upper thigh, then yank as hard as I can. He topples to the carpet, bringing me down with him. Though I want to punch him in the face, I refrain because it's him. Instead, I plop my butt on the ground with my legs wrapped around his arm and bend it backwards. He tries to kick up at my head, but I lean away from his attacks.

  I forgot how much fun this is.

  Next thing I know, he's got me pinned beneath him. It’s more fun than I first thought. He won’t expect me to beat him now, but this is perfect.

  We grapple for a moment. I don’t want him to feel totally humiliated, just enough to keep him from winning. Plus, there's something nice about being this close to him. It has my heart racing with more than exertion.

  He tries to hold me still, as I squirm. Sometimes I let him, pretending I can't move. Other times, I wiggle out and let him capture me again.

  Once I feel like he's gotten a good show in, I squirm my way out of the hold easily, twist around, and jump on his back.

  He stands. I grip his throat and wrap my legs around his waist, locking one foot behind my other knee.

  He tries to pry me loose, but I won’t be moved without a weapon. I've had much practice at this. Besides, touching him is thrilling. It gives me pleasant tingles up and down my skin. That in and of itself is reason to hold on.

  It's no surprise when he tries to shake me off, and even less of one when he falls backward, making me slam into the ground.

  As I catch my breath, I focus on grasping tight. “You're not worried about hurting the queen?”

  “Not anymore,” he gasps out.

  I squeeze him as tight as I can, with both my arms and legs. No way he's getting out of this. He tries, holding out longer than I expect. He should be about ready to pass out any second.

  “You concede?” I ask, letting triumph color my words.

  “Yes,” he gasps.

  I let him go, thrilled with my victory. I'm done with lessons for a while. It's definitely time for something else. Though I do miss the contact.

  “You fight hard,” Nash says, still catching his breath.

  “I was going easy on you.” I contemplate going after my shoes, but I like this barefoot feeling much better. In fact, I like the furniture pushed back as well.

  “You're kidding, right?” he asks.

  “Why would I joke about something like fighting? I always take it seriously.”

  He shakes his head. “No wonder you took out the men who tried to kill you. How do you know how to fight so well?”

  I shrug. “Just do.”

  He narrows his eyes at me like he's trying to discover more about me.

  “Now to the gardens?” I eagerly stand by the door.

  He laughs and rubs his chest. “Now to the gardens.”

  Chapter 23

  The gardens are full of every plant I could ever imagine and more that I couldn't. A blossom of nature's magic. They’re wild and overgrown in a beautiful way, but have still been cut back to allow for paths and benches. Not only are they gorgeous, but they’re huge with fountains and miniature waterfalls.

  “It’s lovely here,” I say.

  “They'd be lovelier if I wasn't in such pain,” Nash replies.

  “You're the one who wanted to fight.”

  He grimaces. “True.”

  “Why did you suggest it?” I ask.

  He gives a humorless laugh. “You always go on about how you can take care of yourself. I thought it would be my chance to show you that you need me and get you to agree to learn more about the government.”

  “And what do you think now?”

  “You can take care of yourself,” he says, “but you still need guards for when you're sleeping and so people don't know how tough you really are. You can use that to your advantage.”

  “I know.” I give him a wide grin.

  He shakes his head. “The lessons can't end permanently, though.”

  I sigh. “I know that too.”

  “Good.”

  We walk silently for several minutes. The sound of birds' twitters fills the air. It's a refreshing break from the daily grind.

  “What do you do when you're not working for me?” I ask.

  “I'm pretty much always working for you.”

  I know what that's like—always working for someone. “Would you like that to change?” I hope the answer is no.

  He shrugs. “I don't know. I haven’t given it much thought.”

  “Give some thought to it now.”

  It takes him a minute to respond. “It would be nice to see my family more.”

  “Why don't we move your family into the palace?”

  “It's kind of you to offer, but my mother would hate it. Besides, in case you haven't noticed, this is a dangerous place to live.”

  “And yet you want to continue to stay here,” I say, hoping it's true.

  “I can hold my own.” He laughs. “Or I thought I could, before you whipped me.”

  “There are things I can teach you if you'd like.”

  “That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me.”

  “Can I take that as a yes?” I ask, tickled at the words he spoke.

  “A definite yes.”

  The thought of my teaching him something for a change is welcome. What's more is the thought of being that close to him—of touching him when I need to correct his position, or showing him a certain move. It has me feeling hot and blushing for reasons I don't understand.

  “Tell me about your family,” Nash says.

  The hot feeling evaporates. “I have none.”

  “Everyone has to have parents at some point. What happened to yours?”

  My chest grows tight. “I don't know. I was abandoned when I was a baby.” I haven’t told anyone that before. What made me tell him?

  “I know it doesn't ma
ke a difference, but I'm sorry.”

  I shrug. “It happened before I can remember, so it's all the same to me.”

  The garden is a good distraction. The flowers are so pretty. We turn the corner and find Faya and Borkus strolling together. He's wearing a sky-blue jacket with lots of lace and froo froo. It almost hurts to look at. Faya is a lot more stately, in a deep-maroon gown, though she has wider skirts and more lace than I care for. She holds herself stiff and apart from him. I don't blame her.

  They grow closer to us. When they’re within speaking distance, they stop, and Borkus bows while Faya curtsies.

  “You may stand,” I say. The words feel so silly coming out of my mouth. Like they don't belong to me.

  “What brings you out today?” Nash asks them.

  “Borkus and I were discussing the latest trends of the Kurah class,” Faya says.

  How exciting.

  “Yes. We think there are some wonderful trends out there. Don't you think, Your Majesty?” Borkus preens.

  I open my mouth when Nash ever so gently nudges my foot with his. A quick glance at him reveals nothing. His face is clean of expression, but I know what he wants of me—to interact and not be rude about it. I suppress a sigh. “Honestly, I haven't noticed.”

  “Of course she hasn't.” Ranen rounds the corner.

  What is it about this man that makes me want to vomit? I stand with my back to a hedge, trying to watch him and the other two at the same time. I don't trust anyone. I don't even like turning my back to Nash, if I'm truthful with myself.

  “You have to remember our queen hasn't been out much since coming to court.” Ranen's voice holds a hint of a sneer, but to his credit, he does bow—a stiff, jerky thing. He doesn't wait for permission to rise.

  “I hope the trends go to what I like. There's too much fluff around here.” I try to soften my words with a smile but don't know if I succeed.

  Borkus coughs. “Your tastes are certainly… different.”

  “I, for one, think Your Majesty has wonderful taste. I could do with a little less.” Faya motions to her wide skirt and lace.

  I grin at her. “My servant, Inkga, is having some made special for me. Perhaps she knows someone who could help you.”

  “That's a very kind offer, Your Majesty. I do believe I'm familiar with Inkga. I will ask her myself.”