by Jeff Wheeler
Back in Sera’s rooms, Becka helped untie and remove her corset, which eased the aching pressure on her ribs. She stared at the contraption, wondering who had invented it and wishing they’d been flogged. Then Becka helped with the buttons again.
“I never want to wear that thing again,” Sera said with disgust. “I wish I could be free to wear what I did in Kingfountain. But we must take things one step at a time.”
“The ladies of the empire will thank you, Sera,” said Becka with a smile.
“I’m sure they will. Where is the book I had you keep safe? Lord Fitzroy’s journal?”
“It’s over here.” Becka fetched it from a drawer and brought it to Sera, cradling it gently in her arms.
Sera took it from her, settled into one of her chairs, and began to read. She wasn’t used to Lord Fitzroy’s handwriting, but he had a very stylistic hand. She could hear his voice in her mind as she read his observations, his wisdom. This would be a treasure for his family. A throb of sadness filled her heart. Lady Maren would need to be told. Cettie was probably still on the other side of the mirror gate. Her friend had always held Fitzroy so dear. What had happened to her? Was she a hostage herself? Or could she be part of the plot?
Sera closed her eyes, her emotions churning. So much had changed so swiftly. Was it any wonder she felt a little dizzy from it? What was happening back at Kingfountain? Was Trevon even alive? How she wished she could have brought him home with her. The weight of the responsibilities that were now hers was crushing. But she was determined to bear them, and for as long as her people needed her. She also felt a comparable duty to her husband’s family. It was overwhelming.
She took a deep breath and continued to read the journal. It was impressive to see Fitzroy’s mind at work. He had been conscientious, deliberate, and his investigation into Lady Corinne’s activities was extensive. Sera began to realize how the woman’s machinations had affected the whole realm, how many businesses she controlled. Especially businesses that fed the Ministry of War.
She was so engrossed in the journal it was a shock when Becka informed her that the prime minster had arrived. More time had passed than she’d realized.
“You look weary, Your Majesty,” he said, looking quite fatigued himself.
“I hope we don’t fall back on ceremony,” Sera answered, resting the book on her lap. “I’ve always preferred for you to call me Sera.”
“And since I’ve never liked the name my parents granted at my birth,” he said with a sardonic smile, “then you may call me what you will . . . or simply Durrant will do.”
“Thank you. I would prefer that.”
“I should be the one thanking you,” he said.
“If I had heeded your advice earlier in my life, I would have made fewer mistakes,” Sera said. “But I’ve learned from them, hopefully. What is that box you’re holding?”
It was about the size of a legal document, probably four inches thick. “These, my dear, are the orders waiting for your approval. Requisitions for food, armaments, and soldiery. Writs to freeze the Lawton assets, which are considerable, and confiscate them for the use of the empire. Officers have already been dispatched to fetch Master Sewell. And a letter of condolence to be delivered to Lady Maren and her remaining children.”
“And I must sign all these papers without reading them?” Sera asked wearily.
“In a word—yes. But I have read them. And made necessary amendments to them. I don’t trust Welles and wanted to make sure we weren’t committing more power to him than necessary.”
“Good. We think alike, then.”
“I always thought we did,” he replied. “I’m flattered that you chose me. Oh, and I wrote the one to Lady Fitzroy myself.”
“Thank you, Durrant. It takes years to build trust and only moments to shatter it. I needed to appoint someone I could trust, someone who would always act in the benefits of my interests and the interests of the people.”
“Oh, the people adore you!” He set the beribboned box on the desk near her. “They always have. I’m surprised you can’t hear the cheering from the streets up here. The news of your father’s demise was grunted at. But your rise to power has lit the imagination of the people like so many Leerings.”
Sera tried to stifle the yawn, but her fatigue had caught up with her.
“I know you are tired,” Durrant said with sympathy. “But these need to be signed ere you sleep. A slumbering dragon has been awakened, Sera.”
“And I imagine the beast needs feeding.” Sera sighed. She untied the ribbons and opened the box, seeing an enormous stack of papers. “Fetch me a pen and ink,” she asked Becka.
Then she turned and looked at Durrant. “I’m going to give my condolences to Lady Maren in person.”
His brow wrinkled. “My dear, you don’t have time.”
“You forget, Durrant. I’m not asking your permission. And I can spend an hour in Fog Willows very easily with this.” She tugged open her sleeve, revealing the Tay al-Ard.
Accustomed to the day-night reversal in Kingfountain, Sera had fallen asleep early and awakened early. She was up and dressed before the household servants arrived, and they were shocked to find her ready for the day. Durrant looked refreshed when he joined her for breakfast, which was something of a miracle given what he recounted about his interactions with the various privy council members. Many of them now sought to curry favor with him. From his perspective, the council was evenly divided, some for her and some still against her.
“Give them a chance to come around,” Sera told him. “If they don’t, then we will begin replacing them.”
“Master Sewell arrived during the night,” Durrant said. “When would you like to see him? We also need to schedule the coronation ceremony.”
“The ceremony can wait,” she answered. “I’d like to see Master Sewell immediately.”
“Alone?”
“Of course not! Preferably in chains. I imagine he’s quite nervous.”
“You seek revenge for something he did against you?”
Sera shook her head, setting down her fork. “Far from it. I want to test his allegiance—and to find out what happened to my friend Cettie. Why did Lady Corinne go to her? Why did Cettie help her overrun a mirror-gate portal? Where is she now? The timing of all this is very suspicious.”
“Indeed so.”
“I also have Lord Fitzroy’s journal. He entrusted it to me before he died, and I’ve been reading it. You’ll find it useful in your new role, for he took copious notes about various affairs of state and the investigation into Lady Corinne.”
“Naturally, I would be keen to read it,” he said, leaning forward with burning interest. “When do you imagine you’ll visit Fog Willows? Lady Maren’s daughter, I’ve come to find out, is quite sick.”
Sera’s brow furrowed. “Anna?” She was doubly glad she’d made the decision to visit. “I was planning to go there this afternoon.”
“She’s being cared for at Gimmerton Sough. That’s the old Harding estate. She fell sick recently.”
“Don’t the Lawtons own it?” Suspicion bloomed in Sera’s heart. Her own father had been poisoned, likely by Lady Corinne. Had she also attacked the Fitzroy family?
Durrant shrugged. “I can find out.”
“Please do. I’m finished with breakfast. I’d like to see Master Sewell, please.”
“We’ll bring him to the study, then, if that suits you?”
“It does. Thank you, Durrant.”
After he departed, Sera finished her preparations and then went to the study to await Sewell’s arrival. One of the benefits of being empress was the promptness with which her orders were obeyed. Within a quarter hour, Master Sewell had been brought, his wrists in shackles, escorted by a half-dozen uniformed officers.
Master Sewell was unkempt, his normally fastidious uniform was wrinkled, and he looked as if he needed a shave. His eyes were bleary from lack of sleep and intense worry.
When Sera had live
d at Pavenham Sky, she had been his prisoner in a way. Their standing with each other had more than reversed.
Sera looked at him shrewdly, keeping her expression guarded—much as Lady Corinne had always done.
“Y-your Majesty,” he stammered, bowing his head to her. The officers’ stern glances clearly discomfited him.
“Master Sewell,” she replied evenly. She cocked her head and looked him in the eye. “Is there anything you wish to tell me?”
His lip twitched. He glanced at his captors worriedly. “I . . . I have reasons to suspect that . . . ahem . . . that my service to Lady Lawton has reached an end. No one has heard from her in days. As to her whereabouts, I can only guess. She never told me where she was going.”
“That is not very useful information,” Sera observed.
He swallowed. “I will try to be more useful, then,” he said earnestly. “I was never in her confidence at all, it seems. I was her servant, nothing more. But I have eyes, Your Majesty. She was capable of great cruelty. She toyed with the lives of the upper class. The more privileged they were, the more ruthless she could be. She ruined young women . . . deliberately, without provocation. It was like a game to her.” He grimaced. “She would invite them to make confidences to her. And then she’d move against them, crippling their success while adding to Lord Lawton’s substantial wealth. She is . . . she is a coldhearted woman. I think she had plans to . . . to remove your maid. She ordered me to keep an eye on her. There was something she’d done that Lady Lawton didn’t like. I was afraid for her.”
“And yet you did nothing to stop her,” Sera said. “You told no one of her machinations, even though they were obviously illegal?”
A furrowed brow revealed the mental torture Sewell was experiencing. “What could I do, Your Majesty?” he said in extreme anxiety. “Who could I have trusted enough to tell? She could make or destroy a family with a glance and a frown. Her position in society was unassailable. And how could I do so without her finding out? For everything I had, I was beholden to her. Yet I feared her. Feared what she would do if she turned her gaze on me next. I tell you, I was just as much a prisoner of Pavenham Sky as you were.”
“I believe you, Master Sewell,” Sera said, stepping forward. “And I understand from Lord Fitzroy that you were one of his sources, someone who acted for the empire’s interests during the investigation.”
Sewell paled. “He said he would keep it a secret.”
“And he did. I only found out after his death. I brought you to Lockhaven to ensure you hadn’t been compromised, and Lord Fitzroy’s words and your own testimony have convinced me. There’s a place for you here, if you’ll take it.”
His eyes widened with surprise and the glimmer of hope. “You are too generous, Your Majesty.”
“I am generous to those who serve me. Do you know where Cettie was taken? Or anything you’ve heard your mistress say about her?”
“The Fitzroy’s keeper?”
“The same.”
“She wrote faithfully to you while you were incarcerated at Pavenham Sky. My mistress used to read her letters. I caught her doing it more than once. Then she’d seal them up again and ask me to send them back. I thought it significant.”
Sera relaxed her mouth and gave him a smile. “I think you could still be of use, Master Sewell. At least in terms of helping us piece together Lady Corinne’s aims. Your knowledge would be very useful.”
He nodded vigorously. “Of course! As I said, she never confided in me, but I did overhear her on several occasions. I think she forgot I was there at times. Rarely did she ever let her guard down. It was after one of her visits to court, several weeks ago. She was after something. Something only your father knew.”
“Did she say what?” Sera pressed him.
Master Sewell frowned, straining to remember. “I don’t remember the exact words. She muttered it. Something like, ‘You will tell me, Richard Fitzempress. I will make you tell me.’”
CHAPTER TWENTY−SEVEN
TERROR
The startled look on Mr. Kinross’s face at seeing Sera appear in the middle of the corridor at Fog Willows made her smile. She hoped her surprise visit wouldn’t give him a seizure. She’d already tucked the Tay al-Ard back under her sleeve, concealing it once again.
“Hello, Mr. Kinross,” she said with a bright smile, “I didn’t mean to shock you.”
“My dear, Y-your Majesty, welcome . . . I truly bid you welcome to Fog Willows. Did you arrive just now?”
“I did.” She gazed up at the walls, savoring memories of the times she’d spent there.
“Did you come by zephyr? I had no notion you were coming.”
“It was supposed to be secret, Mr. Kinross. Can you take me to Lady Maren? I’d like to pay my respects in person.”
“That is very kind of you, Your Highness. How did you . . . I’m still in shock. Let me tell her you are here. Follow me, please.”
Kinross escorted her to the family room where the family had danced in happier days. The estate seemed preternaturally quiet, but then it would. Cettie was gone, who knew where, doing who knew what, Phinia was married, Stephen worked in the mines, and poor Anna was ill. It struck her that Lady Maren was very alone. No doubt Lord Fitzroy’s death had struck her hard.
Mr. Kinross went in first. Sera heard a few mumbled words, then he opened the door wider and bowed as she entered.
Lady Maren was crossing from a nearby sofa, her eyes red-rimmed, and a silk handkerchief still clutched in her hand. The two embraced, and Lady Maren’s pain and sense of loss seemed to eclipse her own. In many ways, Cettie’s family, the parents of her heart, had been like parents to Sera as well. This was the only true family she had.
“You came,” Maren said after the embrace, pulling back and looking at her in wonderment.
“Of course I did. I cannot stay long, but I had to come,” Sera said. She accepted Maren’s hand and followed her back to the sofa.
“The loss of your husband is a bruise that will never heal,” Sera said. “I’m bereft at his loss and can only imagine what’s happened to your family. But first, how is Anna?” She squeezed Maren’s hand.
“Adam Creigh is visiting her right now and trying to recuperate from his wounds. I’m hoping they’ll both be back soon. I’m anxious for news. Too many heartaches in too short a time. Joses. Cettie. Brant.” She wiped her nose. “Your own father too.”
“I’m certain my father was murdered by Lady Corinne,” Sera said. “I understand that she came here, Lady Maren. And took Cettie with her. Can you tell me how it happened?”
Lady Maren looked down and then nodded emphatically. “Sometimes it feels like a dream. That I will wake up and all will be back as it was. I’m worried about Cettie. I’m frantic for her. Let me tell you what Lady Corinne said when she came to Fog Willows that day.”
The tale she proceeded to tell made Sera’s eyes widen with surprise, especially given the way it involved her. The scandal of illegitimacy kept rising like a shadow. Like a worm that continued to live as section after section was cut away. It was difficult being patient during the tale, but she listened, nodding to show her attention, while her mind raced.
“I was with your husband at the end,” Sera said. “He entrusted me with his private journal, which I will return to you after my new prime minister has read it. It contains the secrets of his investigation into Lady Corinne. But I assure you, he would have told me if there were any such bad news. We both know he’s a man of the strongest integrity. He would never have allowed the marriage to proceed under false grounds. What Lady Corinne told you was a lie.”
“I can see that now,” Maren agreed. “But at the time, her story felt . . . plausible. Is that the right word? Her words rang with a strange certainty, and Cettie and I were both deceived. As I said, I thought Corinne was taking Cettie to my husband. I fully believed it. Now how I regret not taking matters into my own hands. If Cettie is under the sway of that . . . that cunning woman . . .” Her
words trailed off, and she shuddered.
Sera stroked Maren’s arm. “I will do my best to find Lady Corinne and Cettie. I wish I could bring you comfort from your grief, but I cannot. My own heart is still grieving. He was one of the best men this empire has produced. I intend to honor him. I don’t know how yet, but I will. And I will not give up on Cettie. I cannot.”
“Thank you,” Maren said, her throat tightening. “It means so much that you came.”
Three days passed quickly, so much so that it felt as if the skyward arcs of the sun and moon had suddenly begun to accelerate. Sera was not bored in any of the meetings she attended. Problems were presented and solved, and the first massive fleets of sky ships were dispatched through three separate mirror gates. Their orders were to secure the other end and form a series of links where supplies could be brought through to reinforce. Montpensier’s forces had tried to resist, and there had been skirmishes but no major battles.
Sera was under no illusions that the conquest would be easy. Quite the opposite. She knew it would be costly in terms of blood and treasure. The thought of so many deaths weighing on her shoulders made her sick inside. Violence begat violence. Would she and Trevon be able to stop it before it spun out of control?
Was he even alive?
On that third day, she was told that Adam Creigh was rested enough to address the privy council. She had reviewed the entirety of Lord Fitzroy’s journal, and while she hadn’t understood all of it, Durrant had read it too. Many of the details that had confused them were clarified by Fitzroy’s chief investigator. It was revealed that Fitzroy’s intention of arresting Lady Corinne just following the wedding may have prompted the sudden hastening of Montpensier’s plans.
When Adam was ushered into the privy council chamber, the room fell silent out of respect for the man. Sera had known him since their days together at Muirwood Abbey, and he had never looked quite so careworn. He had a cane to help support his weight, and he winced as he shuffled forward. His bloody shirt and jacket had been exchanged for clean garments, but strain had left more lasting wounds. Sera could see worry and fatigue in the concerned lines in his face. The thought of Cettie must be weighing heavily on his mind. The two were still betrothed, and she was stranded on the other world with the archenemy of their people. How well Sera understood. She worried for Trevon in the same way—and she also worried for Cettie. She’d do anything to see her friend reunited with Adam.
