[Death's Queen 01.0] Death's Queen

by Janeal Falor

  “Forgive me, Your Highness. We haven't been able to glean anything from any of them.”

  “Is it normal to have so many attacks?” I ask.

  “You’ve had a couple more than average, but that doesn’t mean much. They could be after you for any variety of reasons.”

  Wonderful. I’m a target for so many besides just Daros.

  He shows me the rest of the cells. None of the men pay me any mind or act like we're there at all. I could question them. Doubt I'd learn anything without resorting to methods I refuse to use.

  “Very well, then,” I say. “Thank you for showing me around. Let me know if any progress is ever made with them.”

  “Of course,” Nash says. “I’ll see you out.”

  He walks me through the corridor, past the guard at the desk, and up the stairs. Once we're back in the palace hallway, where sunlight is streaming in through the window, everything should be brighter. But it's not. It's a bleak outlook.

  “Sooner or later, one of them will kill me,” I tell him, ignoring the guards around us.

  His gaze becomes fierce. “I won't let them.”

  “It's inevitable. Unless we find out who's sending them all, my life is mine for only so long.” I turn and walk away, ignoring the pressure on my chest.

  Chapter 34

  The first queen is sitting on air when I see her several feet from me. Her green dress is draped around her, as the colors of the sunset fill the air.

  “Your life is in danger,” she says.

  “That much is clear.” Though it's thrilling to have people attack me.

  “Your conclusions are dangerous. I thought we moved past this point.”

  I feel her prodding. Looking for something in my mind. I close it down, not wanting her to intrude. “It's fine. I'm well trained.”

  “It's easy to tell that's the case.”

  “What would you have of me?” I ask.

  “Have you made any decisions regarding the changes you want to make?”

  I sigh. I wish there was a place to sit.

  “You can sit. Think of a chair being underneath you, and it will be.”

  I do as she says. Surprisingly, it works, though there is nothing but swirls of color under my feet. “Where are we? Is this a dream?”

  “No. This is something more than a dream. A place in between dreams, life, and death.”

  “That doesn't make any sense.”

  “It does, with magic.”

  “Do I have magic? Is there a way to learn it?” I ask.

  She regards me solemnly. “You have much power.”

  “And can I learn to harness it? Can I cast spells and make things like the Mortum Tura?”

  “Did you decide what to do about the laws? What direction you're going to go in, as queen?”

  Why doesn’t she answer my questions?

  “Why don’t you answer mine?”

  “Very well,” I say. “I've not decided what direction I want to go in. I want to help the people. To be a good queen. But I don't know how to do it. I don't want to make a mistake.”

  She stands and walks toward me, but stops before she gets to me. “It's all right to make mistakes.”

  No, it isn't.

  She reaches out, like she wants to touch my shoulder, but I flinch away.

  With a sigh, she sits back down. “I promise you're safe here. You can make mistakes. Everyone does—even a queen.”

  “Was that what happened with the last queen? Deedra? Did she make a mistake in raising taxes?”

  “Is that what you think?”

  “I'm asking what you think.”

  “I'm here to guide you. But yes, Deedra did raise taxes.”

  “Was it a mistake, though? Did you council her for or against it?”

  “Let's just say Deedra listened to me less and less, during her reign.”

  “Why?” I want to know. Want to understand.

  The first queen looks somewhere over my shoulder. “It's hard to explain, but I'll try. Deedra was a very headstrong girl. Despite wanting to end her life, she quickly changed. She knew what she wanted, and that was power. It’s something the Mortum Tura can’t overcome. I tried to stop her—to guide her to a better way of life—but it couldn't be helped. Sometimes queens are like that, despite my precautions. Usually I can find a woman who is after what’s best for the people, and not for herself, but it doesn't always happen. Like in Deedra’s case.”

  How sad that must be—to make a way for your country to not be ruled by power-hungry people, only to have one come about anyway. “Did you try to connect with her like you do with me?”

  “I tried, but I fear I failed.”

  “Even queens make mistakes.”

  She smiles at me, soft and genuine. “Exactly.”

  Chapter 35

  Nash and I go over things for the ball all morning. It's mentally exhausting work, but I'm glad to be getting it done. Only a few days left until it's here.

  “Do you know how to dance?” Nash asks.

  “Well enough to get by.” I am ready to take on any situation.

  “For a queen, you have to do better.” He stands in the middle of my sitting room, the furniture still pushed aside. “If you would please come here, you can show me what you know.”

  I don't move. “Without music?”

  “The steps are the same whether we have music or not. Unless you would prefer to go to the ballroom?”

  Too many eyes there. “Fine.”

  I get to my feet and move over to him. He bows. I start to curtsy, but he stops me. “If you were anyone else, you would curtsy, but a queen never lowers herself to anyone.”

  Something about that feels wrong, but I press the thought away.

  I take his left hand in my right. His palm is warm against mine, hardened with calluses. It's a hand fit for a soldier. Good thing being my Head Advisor hasn't softened him.

  He pulls away. “The queen isn't supposed to touch anyone. I’ve been negligent in that area. I apologize.”

  I grimace. It was so nice feeling the contact. I wish he didn’t remember that rule. Wish he didn’t want to say he’s sorry.

  He puts his hand up, and I raise mine but we keep them a good inch apart. As we circle, the warmth of his skin travels through me, to my arm and up my shoulder, to spread throughout my body. Even without touching, there's something fantastic about being so close. It's unlike anything I've ever felt. As we move our hands away from each other, the feeling leaves. When we switch hands and bring them close together, the feeling returns, stronger than before.

  What is this? I can't look him in the eye, though I should.

  We move apart, and I face him now. I walk back a step as he stays still. Moving closer to him, I feel his heat.

  He steps back as I stay still. Immediately, I miss the closeness. What is getting into me? We continue the dance, moving back and forth, in circles, and around the room. I barely think of what I'm doing, focusing instead on his hands near mine.

  “You dance beautifully.” His voice is barely above a whisper.

  Heat rises inside me at the compliment, but there's nothing I can do to stop it. “You dance well yourself. How did a guard come to learn this?”

  “My mother.”

  “Ah.”

  We finish the dance, and he bows. I wish we could continue practicing. I should have stumbled. Made some sort of false move. Then we could have continued on for some time. Rather, we take a seat.

  “Now,” he says. “About music—what would you like?”

  I haven't a clue. “What do your sisters have to say about it?”

  “They think getting several different music groups and rotating them throughout the night would be good.”

  “It would. We could highlight both the Poruah, Medi, and Kurah classes.”

  “Right. It would go right along with our theme. I'm sure we can find groups to play for us if this is what you want.”

  “I do. Have at least three different groups
.”

  “Consider it done. I'll have my sisters and the ladies in waiting help pick them out. Between them, we should have some good variety.”

  A thought strikes me. “Have we sent out the invitations?”

  “We have, in fact. It was one of the first things we did. Not only that, but we sent out proclamations throughout all of Valcora announcing the coronation ball.”

  “If there are no people there, then it won't be because they didn't know about it.”

  “There will be people there,” he says. “I think it's time for a break. I have something to show you.” He stands. “Come on.”

  I resist the urge to take his hand again. “Where are we going?”

  “It's a surprise.” He gives a sly grin.

  Once we're out in the hall, he tells the guards to follow us. We make our way through the hallways, as I try to mentally picture where we are going. I know the bottom floor quite well by now, but I don't go on the other floors as much. We head up three flights of stairs.

  All this walking up stairs is reminding me of being at Daros's. The stairs were my soothing journey to being alone.

  Unless Daros tried to interrupt my solitude that is.

  Shoving the negative thought away, I focus on the rest that's taking over my soul. The peace that fills this area. A solemn thing that leaves me wanting to whisper. That could just be remnants of Daros’s house as well, but I’d like to think it’s more.

  We reach another hall, and Nash says something to the guards. Three of them plant themselves at our end of the corridor while the other two make their way to the far side.

  The hall is huge in both length and height. What really draws my attention are the pictures on either side. Instead of the usual Valcora landscapes, there are portraits of women.

  “Who are they?” I ask in a hushed tone, though I can guess.

  “They are past rulers. This is the Hall of Queens.” Nash's response is subdued as well, as if we both recognize the importance of this place.

  I look around in wonder, taking in women of all sorts of beauty and different ages. The youngest looks about as old as me. They're all finely dressed, but that's the only thing they have in common. I take them in one by one, reading the names off the bottom of the frame as we go.

  None of them looks like the woman from my dreams.

  When we’re about three quarters of the way down the hall, the images end and naked stone walls greet us.

  “This is where your portrait will hang, once it's painted,” Nash says.

  I'm not sure I'm ready to sit for one. Not brave enough yet, even if Daros already found me. “Are these all of the queens?” I ask.

  “As far as I'm aware, yes. They are.”

  I go back over each portrait, searching. He patiently follows after me, giving me space yet comfort with his presence. I still look around my surroundings often and keep an ear out for trouble, but otherwise I'm focused on the task.

  When we're back to where we started, I say, “This can't be all of them.”

  “Why not?” He looks puzzled.

  Now is the perfect opportunity to tell him about my dreams. About the first queen. “Jem said not all queens got painted before they died.”

  “They—uh—got their portrait after they passed away.”

  “That's awkward.”

  “Yeah. But they are remembered, even if they didn't serve long.”

  “What's the shortest anyone's reigned?” I ask.

  He grimaces. “Two days.”

  I almost beat that. “What's the longest anyone's reigned?”

  “Seventeen years.”

  That's not bad. But I'm getting off topic. “Are you certain there's no one missing?”

  “There could be, but I was told they're all here. Why do you ask?”

  “Just curious.”

  He studies me, and I focus back on the nearest portrait.

  Where is the first queen? Why isn't she among these pictures?

  Chapter 36

  I'm getting ready for bed when a thought crosses my mind.

  “What do you like to do in your free time?” I ask Inkga.

  “I don't know. There isn't much of it. I suppose I like to spend time with family and friends.”

  I don't like talking about families. The closest thing I had to one was Daros. He found me abandoned. Alone and ready for his tutelage. Forcing the thoughts away, I ask, “What's it like to have a friend?”

  “You haven’t had one before?”

  “I don't think so.”

  “Maybe you did, at some point?”

  I sigh. “It's not something I like to dwell on, but…”

  “Go on. I promise it's safe with me.” Her voice is comforting.

  It may be; it may not be. Either way, I find myself relating the tale. “I didn't have a lot of people around in my childhood. One day, I met a woman while I was outside.” Training, running, and jumping over obstacles. Even as a kid I worked hard. But Inkga doesn't need the specifics. “This woman was kind to me. She talked to me like no one else did. She kept coming back whenever I was outside. When she discovered I didn't know how to read, she began teaching me.”

  “How old were you at the time?”

  “I was about eight. She taught me what she could over a few months. One day she said life was too rough on me. I shouldn't have to work so hard as a child. She wanted to take me away from that. At least she said she did.” My eyes burn—a sensation that's been coming too often since I moved into the palace. I stare at nothing, until the feeling goes away. “She promised to come get me the next day.”

  “What happened?”

  I swallow. “I never saw her again.” She abandoned me, just like everyone else.

  “What did your parents think of it?”

  “I have none.”

  Inkga is silent for some time. “You know, I used to think being the queen would be wonderful. I used to even think about trying for it myself.”

  “What stopped you?”

  “Death. I'm not ready to die. And with so many failing, it wouldn’t be worth it. That, and my friends and family again. If I died, I wouldn't be around them.”

  Our conversation is going everywhere, but there are so many things I want to know. “So why did you think it would be wonderful to be queen? You don't sound like you feel that way any longer.”

  “Not after seeing what you've been through. The threat of death hasn't stopped just because you became queen. I'd much rather do your hair and help you with your clothes.”

  “Can you tell me something?” I ask.

  “Of course. What is it?”

  “How do you know someone is a friend? That you can really trust them?”

  “You don't know?”

  “Like I said, I don't think I ever had one.”

  She gives me a pitying look that makes me want to crawl in a deep dark hole. “Friend definition then. They are kind of hard to describe. A friend is someone you can spend time with and enjoy their company. Well… most of the time. You can still get irritated with them sometimes.” She gives a little laugh. “But a person whose company you enjoy. You relish doing things with them. It's someone you can talk to, who doesn’t only listen, but also understands. They are happy when you feel joy and sad when you have pain. They warn you against foolish decisions but support you when you go through with them anyway. And then, when you fall, they’re there to pick you up.”

  That sounds wonderful. “How do you make friends?”

  “The truth is it's easier to make friends when you act softer.”

  “Am I harsh?” I demand.

  “Like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you just were. You never ask anything. You boss people around. It's like you were born to be a queen, not a friend.”

  “I wasn't born to be anything.” But an assassin.

  “It's all right,” she says. “We can try. You just need to work on your tone. How you say things can be more important than what
you say. Your thoughts are good, they’re just a little brass and unrefined.”

  I work hard to think about my words. “What you mean is that I need to change.”

  She glances at the floor. “If you don't mind, Your Majesty. If this is something you want—to have friends. To make people like you, it would be good to practice, yes.”

  “Would you help me practice?” It's almost anguishing to speak politely.

  “You said that very well. It would be my honor to help you.”

  “How do we start? And please, take a seat. It's strange, having you stand while I'm sitting.”

  “If you're sure,” she says.

  “Positive.”

  She takes a seat, instantly making me feel better, though she sits at the very edge of her chair.

  “Begin,” I say.

  “Right.” She clears her throat. “Let's say you're eating dinner, and it's something you hate. How would you react in public?”

  “I eat everything.” Starving will do that to you.

  “All right. What if someone brought you a gift you didn't like? What should you do?”

  I think. Hard. “Depends on the gift.” Most of what I've received has been things like daggers and poisons.

  “It was something you didn't like,” Inkga prods.

  “I'd probably say I'm not interested in it.”

  “There's a perfect instance we can work on. Whether you like it or not, you need to accept it graciously, saying thank you. Even better if you can find some way to compliment the gift.”

  “Even if I hate it?” This is harder than I thought.

  “Even then. They've taken the time to get you something and bring it to you. Many times they'll be extravagant gifts that you'll enjoy. Other times, they might be from someone who has little possessions and brought you all they have. It might not look like much, but to them, it's everything. You need to keep this in mind when you respond.”

  “I can understand that better.” Besides what I needed for my work, I had little.

  “So what would you say to someone who gives you a gift you don't like?”

  “I'd say thank you. Maybe say it’s beautiful or useful or thoughtful.”