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- Herausgeber: The O'Brien Press
- Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020
'She loved me as I loved her, fierce as a bloodied blade' When Lia, an idealistic queen, falls for Xania, her new spymaster--who took the job to avenge her murdered father--they realise all isn't fair in love and treason. Lia won't mourn her uncle: he's left her a bankrupt kingdom considered easy pickings by its neighbours. She's sworn to be a better ruler, but if she wants to push through her reforms, she needs to beat the Court at its own games. For years, Xania's been determined to uncover her father's murderer. She finally gets a chance when Lia gives her a choice: become her new spymaster, or take a one way trip to the executioner's axe. It's an easy decision. When they fall for each other, their love complicates Lia's responsibilities and Xania's plans for vengeance. As they're drawn together amid royal suitors and new diplomats, they uncover treason that could not only end Lia's reign, but ruin their weakened country. They must decide not only what to sacrifice for duty, but also for each other.
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3
5
For Tess – she supported the writing first.6
Contents
Chapter One
Lia
The sheep were undeniably dead. As I examined what the wolves had left behind, and tried not to panic, new footsteps stamped through the frozen grass. I rose, stiff with cold, as a servant hurried a rider towards me. The royal sigil was stitched onto his coat, but I focused on his sleeve: no purple armband for mourning.
A rider would race here in late winter for only one reason.
The King wasn’t dead, but he was dying.
Uncle had been clinging to life for months. The reports had varied – bleeding, vomiting, recovery, bleeding, vomiting – but still he had lived, complained, and made life unbearable for everyone.
And now –
My aunt had given me enough warning, at least. I’d worried that she wouldn’t.
‘Your Highness.’ The servant bowed and the rider sank to his knees, sweating, and held out a letter. I cracked the seal, tucked 8the smaller hidden note into my glove, and scanned the expected words.
…no longer eating, can’t keep water down, preparations are underway…
I’d waited years for this. I’d expected to feel delight, maybe even relief. My uncle was dying. The throne would finally be mine.
Panic bristled in my throat again. I lowered the note.
Father, please give me the courage to do this well.
‘You’ve made a difficult journey,’ I told the rider. ‘Please take the time to regain your strength here.’
‘The pleasure is mine, Your Highness.’ The rider trembled, as if the shadow of my uncle’s impending death had hounded him north. He’d probably expected to meet me in a drawing room, not in a field examining slaughtered sheep.
They left me, and I staggered towards a tree and leaned against the trunk. The bark pressed against my coat, reassuringly familiar. The air scraped my nose and throat as I took deep, shaky breaths. I fished the second note out of my glove. Matthias had written two words in a version of our childhood code:
No delays.
No delays. Our phrase for when Uncle’s death was imminent and I was to get down here now.
Matthias hated that I went north every winter when Uncle could no longer stand the sight of me. I was one of the few nobles who did. ‘It’s ridiculous,’ he’d fume. ‘You’re up there, freezing and 9alone, while the Court gets drunk and eats too much.’
‘I’m with my people,’ I always replied.
‘You’re the heir. Your people are the entire country, not just your estate tenants.’
We’d argued before I’d left Court in late summer. Matthias had suspected – correctly – that Uncle’s health was beyond help and I should stay, while I didn’t want to resemble a princess hovering over the crown like a scavenger bird. The throne would be mine whether or not I stayed in Arkaala.
I broke into a run, swearing under my breath, and hurried back towards the manor. We’d have to travel quickly. Uncle must have declined suddenly, or Matthias would have sent more warning to prepare for the trip.
I should have listened to him.
As I approached, the doors leading to the gardens burst open. Mother rushed down the steps. ‘Lia!’
The house staff were probably huddled at every window facing us. They’d all heard her improper glee.
I stopped. Stayed silent. Everyone at the windows would slink away; only the bravest would eavesdrop. The sun was still pale, the gardens still bright with winter roses. Everything looked the same as when I’d woken up. But nothing would be the same after this.
‘Lia, you will be Queen.’
If only Mother’s joy was entirely for me. She’d locked horns 10with Uncle long before marrying my father, their disagreements blooming into steady loathing. At least social propriety would get her into mourning dress. Uncle’s death would give her back a decade, where Father’s had threaded silver in her brown hair, deepened the wrinkles around her mouth.
I slipped by her and up the steps.
‘We need to discuss –’
‘We leave for Arkaala as soon as possible,’ I said. ‘There is little to discuss until we see Uncle.’ There was, in fact, plenty to discuss before I saw him. There was much to do and decide. But Uncle wasn’t dead yet. He still deserved my respect, even if he’d done little to earn it, and I couldn’t act otherwise if I wanted to win over his allies as Queen.
I was being unfair to Mother, to both of us – we’d dreamed of this moment for so long. I’d spent years frustrated by Uncle’s inept rule, knowing I could do better but powerless until I inherited.
We were so close.
But I could never publicly rejoice at his demise, and I wouldn’t allow Mother to relish hers.
She sputtered as I went through the doors.
I strode down the hall, already imagining the Court bowing and curtseying. A hard bud slowly unfurled inside me, releasing not just relief but anticipation. I’d waited years, biding my time, treading the stormy waves of family hatred to reach the other side 11mostly unscathed.
Now, I was Queen, a wolf in my own right. I held the chess pieces.
It was time to use them.
In a moment of decency, Uncle was dying as winter finally lost its grip. Travel would be as swift as the time of year would allow.
As the carriage thundered along the road, the grief finally hit. My chest ached as if someone had dumped cold water over me. I’d spent ten years in my family’s estate – too cold in winter, too warm in summer – learning how to be Queen. I’d grown up commanding imaginary armies against Matthias, my oldest friend. We’d wandered through every stream, climbed every tree, and planned our futures lying on summer grass.
Father had died there.
Now the estate would continue without me.
The poor autumn and winter had made food prices soar. About a third of my tenants couldn’t afford enough to last them through winter. We’d raided the estate’s food stores to keep them alive. Everyone we saw on the road was too thin, and too resigned about it. I’d known Uncle had ignored his duties in favour of the next meal, the next drink, the next entertainment, but it wasn’t the same as seeing it. 12
I worried, even though I tried not to. If I couldn’t keep sheep alive, how could I rule Edar?
Bad roads delayed us after several days of rain, so we arrived at Arkaala, the capital, in early afternoon, instead of late at night as planned. My heart still lifted at the crumbling remnants of Empire architecture, surrounded by layers of winding streets sprawling towards the docks.
Then the bells started.
We were too late.
Uncle was dead.
And I was Queen.
‘If dying wasn’t unavoidable,’ Mother said, ‘I’d swear he planned this.’
There would be no handover. No last-moment change of feelings from Uncle, no scraps of advice, no blessing. Just a Court flung into grief.
People turned our way as the carriage wound through the streets towards the palace. There were no cheers, no shouting. The mourning bells drowned everything out, except the panic in my head.
As the carriage stopped, Mother said, ‘Perhaps Jienne will be indisposed.’
‘Her husband is dead,’ I said. ‘She knows we must pay our respects.’
Mother rolled her eyes. ‘Grief won’t make her kind. You’ll see.’ 13
‘Act sad,’ I hissed, before a footman opened the carriage door.
My aunt, now the Dowager Queen Jienne, hadn’t liked me after I was named heir, but was clever enough to stay cautiously civil. Secretly, I knew Mother was right – Jienne had now lost her power, why would she welcome us? As we followed servants to Uncle’s rooms, I was absurdly grateful for Mother’s black-edged purple armbands – ‘The one item that never goes out of fashion,’ she’d muttered in the carriage, her eyes sad – so whatever our private feelings, at least our grief looked respectable.
I didn’t feel respectful. I felt out of my depth: quick steps trying to be measured, sweat, and deep breaths through the nose.
Uncle’s chambers reeked of sickness, and stale air, and old blood. It stuck to my tongue, seemed to cling to my skin and clothes. Only long practice kept me from gagging or scratching at my hair. Mother swallowed compulsively, her eyes darting towards the thick window drapes.
Only three people attended my dead uncle. If there had been more – a reasonable possibility, given Aunt Jienne’s love, and my hatred, of an audience – they had been swiftly kicked out.
The doors closed behind us.
The physician dropped to his knees. ‘Long live the Queen.’
Aunt Jienne rose from the bedside, her skirts rustling. Her dress was the latest fashion – heavily embroidered, tucked at the waist and billowing at the back – but the black-edged purple reminded us that she was the grieving Dowager Queen. She kept 14her expression neutral as she curtseyed.
‘Dearest Aunt,’ I said and squeezed her hands, ‘we grieve for your husband. We will do our utmost to honour his memory and continue his legacy.’
I will make this country prosperous again and gouge out my uncle’s rot. I will fight all those loyal to him.
Aunt Jienne’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. ‘I appreciate your grief, and know you will continue his work and bring further honour to our family.’
Empty words; fulfilled duty. Everyone was happy –
‘Such a pity you didn’t make it in time for his blessing,’ she added, and stepped back.
– or perhaps not.
The third person strolled forward. I’d changed at our last stop, but my best dress hardly compared to his embroidered red velvet. I matched his charming smile and held out my hands. ‘Lord Vigrante.’ The Head of Government: my uncle’s greatest supporter and greatest manipulator. He radiated charisma and confidence; no wonder Uncle had given him so much freedom.
Lord Vigrante kissed my knuckles. His purple armband didn’t match his red velvet, or golden hair, and his charisma didn’t match the grief in the stifling room. ‘Your Majesty. So unfortunate you’ve returned under such sad, yet glorious circumstances.’
Aunt Jienne stiffened. It took gall to inform a Dowager Queen, paces away from her dead husband, that she was no longer in 15favour.
After a too-long pause, I said, ‘Your feelings are noted, Lord Vigrante. We will speak later. For now, I wish to mourn my uncle.’ I’d wanted to take a few moments to accept the finality of his death, but Jienne would want to mourn, likely alone now that Vigrante had shifted his potential allegiance to me.
Back in the hall, I sucked in deep breaths and shivered. Mother patted my arm, though she looked sadder, more sympathetic, than I’d expected from her behaviour in the carriage. A servant led us first to her rooms and then to the suites that had been reopened for my new status as Queen. It was a relief for another set of doors to close behind me.
In the receiving area, Matthias dozed in a chair. He immediately opened his eyes, gestured at the waiting tea service, and stood with a smile. His maroon clothing only highlighted the sickly tint to his thin, pale face; he likely hadn’t eaten or slept much in the last few days. But his demeanour held steady. He was my oldest friend, and would do everything I wanted and more.
He bowed with a flourish. ‘Welcome back, Your Majesty.’
I hugged him.
For a moment we were children again, sprawled under a tree. Sunlight dappled our skin. We’d picked out shapes in the clouds and decided how we’d fix everything when I was Queen.
Now we were here. It was time to begin.
Chapter Two
Xania
I love my sister, but this was one of the days I wanted to throttle her.
‘You can’t be serious!’ Zola said.
‘Ernest is unsuitable.’ I tried to stay calm, knowing I’d lose her the moment I lost patience. ‘You can do better.’ His older brother was also up to his eyeballs in debt and, as of last week, no longer had access to his inheritance. But Zola wouldn’t care, and technically I shouldn’t have seen those papers in the Treasury.
‘Ernest is charming.’
‘Ernest is smug.’ I couldn’t stop an edge creeping into my voice. Zola clenched her hands against her dress, barely a flounce away from the door. ‘People say –’
‘I don’t care what they say!’
‘He mocks you.’
My starry-eyed sister deflated into an unsure sixteenyear- old girl. It made me want to break Ernest Blackwood’s nose. The punch would be satisfying, and worth the pain and 17social backlash.
Zola twisted her mouth. ‘Of course he does.’
We both knew what he’d said. What everyone said, when they thought we couldn’t hear, or our presence went unnoticed. Clinging onto power. Foolish dead father. Grasping mother. Hopeless daughters.
Who do they think they are?
‘The Blackwoods are Sixth Step.’ The edge was gone from my voice – I didn’t have the energy for it. ‘We are Fifth.’ It wasn’t unheard of for Sixth and Seventh families to consider the lower Steps for marriages, but –
‘We’re Fifth now,’ Zola said.
Mama had done her best. I’d never fault her for remarrying up. But I wasn’t sure it had been the right thing to do.
I opened my mouth –
The sound of bells filled the air. We clapped our hands over our ears, but it boomed through the windows and walls, each set of peals rolling into the next. The echoes made my teeth hurt. After the initial flurry, they settled into a dreary three-tone pattern.
Death bells.
The King was finally dead.
The Princess was Queen.
Zola and I locked eyes, then we rushed towards the door. The Court had been rattled for the last few weeks, as it became clear the King’s health wouldn’t improve. Matthias had informed me 18that the Queen – the Dowager Queen – had held out longer than advised before sending for the Princess up north, and the Court was scrambling to sort out their new allegiances.
These last few weeks, I’d heard far more about Princess Aurelia – ‘Lia’ to those closest to her, apparently – from Matthias than I’d wanted. For someone who only spent spring and summer at Court, straddling a fragile line between outcast and successor, he knew a staggering amount about her.
‘The Court is never careful when they gossip,’ he’d said. ‘They always say too much.’ He’d never said if that was a good or bad thing.
While our stepfather maintained the family line of keeping out of drama and politics, he and Mama were still pulled into the seemingly endless discussions – fretting – about the future Queen’s intended changes. So they weren’t here to stop us from venturing into the halls and barely-contained chaos. In the uneasy hush, servants hurried while trying to pretend they were calm. Most had a snowflake over the royal crest stitched onto their upper sleeves: they were in the service of the Princess and her mother.
She was due to arrive, just too late for a smooth transition.
A flash of embroidered maroon caught my eye: Matthias rushed through a hallway junction ahead of us, his expression set and intent. I tapped Zola’s arm before she called out, and shook my head, trying not to frown. It wasn’t that he was rushing like 19the servants; Matthias hurried everywhere. But his expression had also been hopeful and worried, a strange mix.
Matthias never showed his true feelings. He adapted and discarded emotions and sincerity with dizzying speed. Even knowing how close he’d been to Papa, I still wasn’t sure if Matthias presented his real self, or a facade that was easier to interact with. For him to let his emotional guard down like this...
He’d been almost unbearably excited about the Princess’s arrival. ‘You have no idea how Court will change,’ he’d remarked one evening. ‘Lia will cut into the rotten core and yank it out. Vigrante’s allies have no idea what’s awaiting them.’ And he’d been acting oddly as the King’s health worsened: distracted and distant, as if juggling too much in his head. Thanks to Papa’s training, Matthias slid easily through the Step ranks, collecting acquaintances and debts in ways I couldn’t. But his cheerful mask didn’t usually slip –
Lia.
He’d called her Lia. And I hadn’t noticed.
Matthias was Third Step, like Papa had been. Too low-ranked to know the Queen personally.
But only those closet to Princess Aurelia used her family nickname.
A seed of suspicion dropped into my stomach, threatening to sprout tendrils.
Perhaps Matthias did know her. 20
Like he knew my secrets.
As he whirled around a corner, I turned to face Zola. ‘I just remembered, I have to finish an assignment for Coin. I’ll be done before dinner.’
She tilted her face. ‘The King’s just died. Taxes can wait.’
I snorted. ‘Not according to Coin. I bet he’s in the Treasury, insisting on work as usual, while the rest of the Court panics.’
‘I’m not taking that bet.’ Zola sighed. ‘You work too hard for him.’
‘I want that promotion.’
Zola squeezed my hand. ‘Try and have fun?’
‘Oh, absolutely. I’ll have so much fun, I won’t be able to remember my name.’ I blew Zola a kiss and hurried off towards the Treasury, then cut back towards the direction Matthias had gone until I stopped before an unremarkable wall.
I could be wrong about Matthias. I desperately wanted to be. But something was odd about him today, and I couldn’t ignore it.
No one else knew what Matthias tried to help me with behind closed doors, and I intended to keep it that way. He was sometimes a friend, but mostly a co-conspirator.
But people didn’t know what I was capable of, either, or what I wanted to do to those I hated.
I ran my fingertips down the wall, carefully applying pressure in a sequence until part of it sprung back. I took a deep breath, slid into the gap and, after adjusting to the gloom, started walking. 21
If my suspicions about Matthias were correct, and he secretly knew the Queen, he wouldn’t use the public halls to go to her.
According to him, the passages went back to the palace’s foundations. While the network was occasionally expanded by a paranoid ruler, the effort mostly went into maintaining the elaborate sprawl, the full extent of which was only known by the ruling monarch, their heir, and the Master of Whispers. No part of the palace was untouched, and the royal wing had several direct escape routes outside.
Matthias had given me some of the basic codes and patterns to start off with. I’d spent months mapping the routes, pretending it was another of Papa’s lessons. He had loved puzzles and ciphers and codes. Every one he’d taught me was a sign of his love. Matthias had said nothing about the royal wing, whose passage sequences worked from different roots, but I’d included it anyway. It was slow, painstaking work, despite everything Papa had taught me, but I’d cracked the sequences.
Most of the passages required an exact pattern to enter and leave, but some of the internal ones only needed the flick of a hidden catch. Each new monarch reset the sequences and patterns, but – as I’d hoped – nothing had changed yet. It was an extraordinary sign of royal trust to know about the passages. When I’d asked Matthias which unfortunate noble he’d wheedled the information from, he’d smiled and changed the subject.
But if the Queen had told him... 22
What had he told her? Every time we’d discussed Vigrante’s involvement in Papa’s murder, had he been helping me or waiting to use it against me?
My throat tightened with fear. I swallowed, and kept on walking, hoping I’d be right about his most likely route.
I finally reached an exit near the royal wing, counting three hundred heartbeats before I stepped out into the hall. I’d never been so close to the royal wing before, which was guarded night and day.
I peered around the corner, just as Matthias stopped before the guards. He held something out for inspection before they waved him through into the wing.
Spikes of terror exploded from the suspicious seed in my stomach.
Hurried footsteps grew louder from the other end of the hall. The Queen and her mother approached, travel-rumpled and – like the servants – trying to pretend they weren’t hurrying. I caught a flash of brown hair, pale skin, and purple before I bolted back into the passages. I leaned against the wall. Panic twisted under my skin.
After several deep breaths, I followed a route into the royal wing, avoiding the royal family and their guards. The codes and failsafes fell before me, pitifully easy after all my work.
I’d expected the royal wing to be ostentatious. The gilded wallpaper was beautiful, but the design was twenty years old. 23Everything reeked of old money, long accumulated wealth. I stepped lightly on the carpet. Portraits speckled the wall, not only of the royal family but their in-laws and extended relatives. They watched me as if they knew I didn’t belong.
Around another corner, I faced double doors stamped with the royal seal: the monarch’s public study. I glanced over my shoulder, but I was alone. Still, I could hardly march up and knock. No one entered the royal wing without permission. If I was discovered, the Queen would be justifiably furious.
It was easier to focus on that, instead of Matthias lying to me for years. He’d let me rage and plot and scheme, while all along he worked for the Queen. And if he’d told her I wanted to avenge Papa’s death...
Plotting murder wasn’t a problem – until the Queen discovered it. Then it usually ended in a meeting with an executioner’s axe.
The doors opened. I ducked back around the corner. Matthias stepped into the hall.
Betrayal and fury washed over me in a sweat. My hands tingled. He had lied – to me, my family, perhaps even Papa. He’d never once hinted that he knew the Queen. How long had he been working for her? Years? Had I risked myself, my family, with secrets that could be used against us?
I should control my anger, douse it with rationality and calculation. Instead, I stepped towards Matthias and reached into my 24skirts. I curled my fingers around the comforting weight of my dagger hilt.
Chapter Three
Lia
I inhaled the scent of spiced tea, then let out a long breath. ‘Who supported Alexandris becoming the Opposition Leader?’ A political problem was always easier to deal with than my family.
Matthias passed me a list of names in code. I’d kept the northern nobles on side for years, but Opposition support was my best weapon against Vigrante. Alexandris’s political career was stable and mediocre – not the makings of a strong leader.
I tapped the list of names. ‘Any proof they’re in Vigrante’s pocket?’
He passed me a sheet of numbers. ‘With the old King’s coin.’
My uncle had been an over-generous ruler. As his health had declined again this year, the Master of Coin started giving me copies of the financial reports. I wouldn’t know how bad the debt was until our first meeting, but I didn’t hold out much hope for the Royal Treasury’s prospects.
Matthias glanced around the study. ‘Needs a change,’ he said.
‘I was considering redecorating in red. The dark green will be 26depressing in winter. Speaking of green’ – I tried and failed for casualness – ‘what happened to the gentleman with the green velvet waistcoats? I thought it was going well.’
‘The green velvet gentleman decided I was too boring. Or I thought he was. We were too boring for each other,’ Matthias said. ‘This isn’t the time to discuss my love life.’
Taking a moment for him, even three sentences, would hardly bring the country to a standstill. ‘I need a meeting with Alexandris,’ I said, instead of asking, When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me? ‘He has to stick his neck out more.’
‘Easily done.’ Matthias hesitated. ‘And my recommendation for dealing with Vigrante?’
I clenched my jaw. ‘My opinion hasn’t changed.’
‘My concern hasn’t changed, Your Majesty.’
‘My opinion outranks your concern.’ When I’d returned north, Matthias had stayed in Arkaala as my eyes and ears. I’d known he would be eager when I was Queen. But his eagerness often turned into overconfidence. I didn’t enjoy reminding him of his place, but I wouldn’t let him control me as Vigrante had controlled Uncle.
‘I presume the money Uncle promised would have come from taxes?’ I asked.
Matthias nodded.
‘The Court won’t support reforms if I disregard Uncle’s promises.’ 27
Matthias’s nostrils flared. ‘Your uncle unclipped Vigrante’s leash and let him run wild with promises. He didn’t care, once he had his wine, and food, and his entertainment. Your aunt didn’t care, once she had her wine, new clothes, and her entertainment.’
‘Killing Vigrante won’t win me the Court’s favour,’ I said flatly.
I rose and went around the desk towards the bookshelves. Most of these books were usually found in Step libraries, nothing that truly indicated Uncle’s tastes. I trailed my fingers across the spines and paused at a volume of war poetry. The poet had risen to prominence during Great-Grandfather’s reign. My grandfather had later quoted his best-known poems to justify his aggressive rule.
I didn’t enjoy war poetry.
Matthias and I had spent years debating how Vigrante would fight my legislation and turn the Government against me. And since he’d entered politics, there had been deaths. All apparently natural, of course. Nothing led back to him. Nothing could be proven. Vigrante’s hands looked clean.
Killing him wouldn’t help me. I had to secure my own power base first. But I was royalty, born from a noble house. Vigrante had no bloodline to fall back upon, only a political title and a rise to power through allegiances built on Uncle’s coffers. Such allegiances always turned fragile, eventually. I wanted Vigrante gone. If I cut him from the Treasury purse-strings, his own allies could destroy him for me. I just had to survive the fallout. 28
Surviving a political fallout brought me to another matter. ‘Have you made progress on my Whispers?’
Matthias could juggle being my secretary and temporary Whispers for only so long. He’d kept my position at Court secure up until now, but a proper Whispers would keep me alive.
‘I have someone in mind,’ he said. ‘Xania Bayonn. Lady Harynne’s daughter.’
‘And the late Baron Bayonn’s daughter.’
Most people wouldn’t have interpreted Matthias’s face spasm as old grief, but most hadn’t known him since childhood. Bayonn had practically been a father to Matthias, teaching him the necessary skills to navigate Court and serve my interests. His death had hit Matthias harder than losing his own parents. The guilt of being convinced of Bayonn’s murder, but unable to prove it, made him uncomfortable around the Bayonn family.
But they weren’t influential. Whispers usually came from a high Step; it made it easier to navigate social circles.
‘An unusual choice,’ I said. Xania Bayonn wasn’t just from a lower Step – she was young. But then, so was I. And if she was suitable for Whispers, her social rank aside, then Matthias trusted her. He wouldn’t be reckless about such an important position.
‘She has potential,’ he said. ‘I’ll arrange a meeting.’
‘Very well. You may leave.’
I returned to the desk after he left, but pushed my cup away. The tea now looked like blood. The room felt stifled by the ghosts 29of my ancestors. The grief swelled inside me again, tinged with spite. As I grew up, Uncle and I had loved each other less and less; yet the throne was mine now, and I would be a better ruler.
Raised voices outside propelled me up and towards the doors. I flung them open and froze.
Chapter Four
Xania
The carpet muffled my footsteps, giving me a few more moments of stealth. ‘How long?’
Matthias whirled. His face tumbled through shock, surprise, guilt, then settled on anger. ‘Xania.’
‘Miss Bayonn.’ He’d lost the privilege of my name. ‘How long have you been working for her?’ What secrets have you told her?
‘It’s not –’
I whipped the dagger up.
He went still.
‘How long?’
He flicked his gaze from the dagger to me. ‘I’ve known her since childhood.’ He hesitated. ‘However you’re imagining I betrayed you, I didn’t.’
Careful phrasing. Typical Matthias.
The doors burst open, and the new Queen stood in the doorway.
Fear rolled in my gut. 31
‘Drop the dagger.’ This close, layers of powder couldn’t quite hide the grief or exhaustion on her pale skin. But her gaze still pinned me. ‘Drop it now.’
She spoke as if she’d never been disobeyed in her life, which was probably true. Refusing her meant courting death.
I let the dagger slip from my fingers.
Matthias nudged it towards the Queen with his boot. She scooped it up and held it at her side.
‘Your Majesty,’ he said through gritted teeth, ‘may I present Miss Xania Bayonn, daughter of the late Baron Bayonn and Lady Harynne.’
‘If this is a joke,’ the Queen told him, ‘it’s in poor taste.’
‘It isn’t. I don’t appreciate having the business end of daggers pointed at me.’
My legs tensed, though running was futile. The Queen knew my name now.
She narrowed her eyes. ‘How did you convince the guards to let you through?’ She looked between Matthias and me, then at the walls. So she had told him about the passages – and he shouldn’t have told me.
Matthias grimaced.
At the sound of an approaching patrol, the Queen gestured at him and stepped back into the room. He pulled me inside before I could protest. The Queen shut the doors. The guards’ footsteps faded around a corner. 32
‘Release her,’ the Queen said, and nodded towards the chairs at her desk.
I sat, keeping my head down. Mama had drilled etiquette into me for years as my most effective shield.
The Queen placed my dagger on the windowsill behind her. I waited for her to speak first. Only the ticking clock broke the silence, until Matthias took an incensed breath through his nose.
‘I’m aware this isn’t the meeting you intended, but here we are,’ the Queen snapped. ‘So instead of acting like a spoiled child, Baron Farhallow, I suggest you salvage it.’
Meeting?
I looked up. ‘I... I beg your pardon, Your Majesty...’
‘It’s a bit late for politeness now.’
Matthias snorted.
‘Would you prefer I leave you both alone with the dagger?’
‘No, Your Majesty,’ he said. ‘I would not.’
‘Good. Start explaining.’
‘May I rise?’
She flicked her fingers. Matthias surged to his feet and paced. He finally took a deep breath and locked his hands behind his back. ‘Your Majesty, this is Miss Xania Bayonn, daughter of Baron Bayonn and Lady Harynne, step-daughter of Lord Martain of Kierth.’
It felt ludicrous, but I stood to curtsey. At least my skirts hid my shaking knees. 33
‘Her father died four years ago,’ Matthias said. ‘Her mother remarried a year and a half later. We believe her father didn’t die of natural illness.’
‘I know we need proof.’ I flinched at my loud tone, but added, ‘I’ve been trying to find it for years.’
The Queen broke a Farezi sugar biscuit in half and studied it with more care than it deserved. ‘You’re Fifth Step, Third Step-born, with limited prospects. You don’t have the social mobility nor means for revenge.’
‘Blackmail isn’t always secrets and gossip,’ I said. ‘I know the Sixth and Seventh Step families who’ve been living beyond their means for years –’
‘Unsurprising.’
‘– but don’t have the credit trail they should. I know whose dowries are comprised of loans. I know who ruined their spouses’ fortunes. Money talks, even when people try to hide it.’
‘You work in the Treasury.’
‘And I know exactly how empty it is.’
The Queen stiffened. ‘That is classified information known only to the Master of Coin.’
‘Don’t worry, he’s trustworthy,’ I said. ‘But I’m good at numbers. And figuring things out.’
‘Apparently.’ Her face hardened. ‘While Matthias may have granted you access to the passages’ – he squirmed – ‘he wouldn’t dare give you the codes to the royal wing. And the guards would 34never let you through without my permission. Yet here you are.’
‘It took a long time to break the codes,’ I said. ‘If it helps.’
‘Not really.’ The Queen dropped the biscuit pieces onto the plate. ‘This is your choice for my Whispers?’ she asked Matthias. ‘A woman driven by vengeance who goes where she pleases?’
My stomach dropped.
Whispers?
I was nearly eighteen, only a year younger than the Queen; if I’d been born into a higher Step, I might have been one of her ladies. But her Whispers?
‘I– I– no.’ I surged to my feet.
The Queen lunged forward and slapped her hands over my wrists. Her grip was surprisingly strong. It didn’t matter that I knew Matthias, or we both thought Papa had been murdered, or that Matthias had kept his connection to the Queen from me. If I didn’t do what the Queen wished, there would be no mercy for me.
If I was in her position, wielding her power, I’d do the same.
I sat back down, her hands still on my wrists. ‘I can’t be your Whispers.’
‘Who do you believe murdered your father?’
If I said his name, I couldn’t take it back. But Papa deserved justice, and this was only way I could do it. ‘Lord Vigrante.’
My gut twisted even at the sound of his name. In public, he was always polite, respectful. Everything about him indicated 35an unflappable, upstanding man. He’d probably already tried to insert himself into the Queen’s confidence.
But he wasn’t trustworthy.
He’d killed Papa.
Only Matthias believed me. No one else would even consider going up against one of the most powerful people at Court.
Papa had been a good man. Court had no use for good men.
‘Why do you believe this?’ the Queen asked.
‘My father died from illness. Six months after his death, the physician who attended him was trampled by a horse in the city. But his family were rewarded with promotions, and his children suddenly married well.’
It was a reasonable suspicion, but difficult to prove. Matthias agreed it fitted Vigrante’s pattern of indirectly rewarding those who did his dirty work.
The Queen frowned. ‘Then it’s in our interests to work together.’
‘I’m Fifth Step through my mother’s remarriage –’
She released my wrists. ‘Don’t repeat what I already know. It doesn’t make you better qualified to bring Vigrante down instead of being my Whispers.’
My cheeks burned, though she was right. I could get all the blackmail, all the evidence possible, and it would still be my word against Vigrante’s.
‘But,’ the Queen said, ‘with royal power backing you…’
‘I serve you in exchange for…?’ 36
‘You already have merchant contacts through your family’s business affairs. I’ll give you the funds and contacts to gather informants from the Steps and rebuild Edar’s spy network.’
‘I still won’t have the social mobility you need for a Whispers.’ Historically, domestic threats had usually involved the Sixth and Seventh Steps, and Parliament – all areas I would be unwelcome.
‘I’ll handle that,’ the Queen said. ‘You work in the Treasury. It won’t be difficult to involve you in certain affairs.’
I had a vision of all the bankruptcy files in my future.
But Coin would be suspicious if the Queen suddenly insisted on my promotion. He’d keep an eye on me. But her uncle had surely demanded more outrageous things.
‘And if I refuse your offer?’ The Court didn’t publicly acknowledge Whispers, but everyone knew the position didn’t come with a long lifespan.
‘If you had proof of Vigrante’s involvement in your father’s death before now,’ the Queen said, ‘and could have killed him without implicating yourself, would you have done it?’
At this point, I gained nothing by lying. ‘Yes.’
Silence.
I broke it. ‘So it’s blackmail, then? I become your Whispers, and you conveniently forget I want to murder Vigrante?’
Matthias sucked in a breath. Bluntness probably wasn’t done in the higher Steps.
People died all the time. Step nobles usually paid others to 37poison on their behalf, so murder never led back to them. If the Queen wanted to make an example, she could reveal me to Vigrante. He’d have me before an executioner in days. And she would have him in her debt.
The Queen smiled. Warmth blossomed over her stern expression.
I swallowed.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Not blackmail. I’m not Vigrante. There is no trust in blackmail.’
There was no trust between us anyway.
‘You have a choice, small as it is. Matthias feels you’re suited to being Whispers, and I trust his opinion. And,’ she added, ‘no one else could offer you such a chance at vengeance.’
It’s in our interests to work together, she’d said. The Queen and her uncle had felt differently about duty and responsibility, and she’d avoided Lord Vigrante during her last few Court visits. Rumour had it she’d disliked his influence over her uncle.
Matthias wanted her to be a certain kind of Queen. But I doubted that someone who dismissed blackmail could win against Vigrante.
‘May I consider your offer?’ I asked.
She was right: no one else, not even Matthias, could give me this opportunity. But I wouldn’t become Whispers on a whim. It meant controlling information and misdirection, intercepting threats to the monarch’s life. It was risk after danger after risk, 38and if I wasn’t careful that could extend to my family.
‘Of course.’ After a moment, she said, painful and soft, ‘My father also died from illness. I will never know if it was deliberate.’
Maybe this was my chance for answers that she’d never get.
‘But you must prove yourself first.’ The Queen smiled at my raised eyebrows. ‘Did you really expect me to trust you with my life without hesitation?’ She picked up my dagger from the windowsill and held it out to me.
‘Prove yourself, and the position is yours,’ she said. ‘I’ll help you take Vigrante down. No blackmail. No traps.’
My heart leaped with hope, yet my common sense insisted on caution. ‘How will I know when to prove myself?’
‘You managed to break into the royal passages and stay alive after threatening Matthias. You’ll recognise the appropriate situation.’
I hadn’t kept myself alive so much as she’d decided I wouldn’t die. But I was, as she’d pointed out, still alive, so I kept my mouth shut.
I took my dagger from her.
Chapter Five
Lia
Two days after we closed the family crypt on Uncle, I met with the Master of Coin.
‘Your Majesty, sympathies on your uncle’s passing,’ Coin said. ‘You have no money.’
I reached across the desk for the stack of paper.
My slim hopes for this conversation now seemed optimistic. We were drastically in the red – had been in debt since Grandfather’s final year on the throne. Thanks to my uncle’s frivolity, we’d never recovered.
I drummed my fingers. ‘Please explain how we can afford Uncle’s funeral and my coronation?’
‘I begged,’ Coin said. ‘Essentially.’
‘Shouldn’t we put the money to better use?’
Coin ran a hand through his greying hair. ‘The people want pomp, no matter how much they claim to hate it. No pomp? Rumours will spread about Edar’s finances. Then they panic. You 40don’t want that.’
‘You want pomp, yet act like these pages personally offend you.’
‘They do offend me,’ he said. ‘I hardly enjoy scrimping and stretching our credit.’
‘If you no longer want this position –’
‘I’m the best you have. I kept your uncle in his lifestyle, Parliament relatively happy, and everyone else from rioting.’ Spots of colour blazed in Coin’s cheeks.
‘If I had the money,’ I said, ‘I’d give you a raise.’
Coin’s blush deepened.
‘But sadly we don’t. Show me the Steps’ expenditure lists.’
A shuffle of paper, and he passed me another sheaf.
Rage burned in my throat. ‘I was unaware the Dowager Queen would still receive such… large amounts.’ The paper trembled in my hand.
‘It’s reasonable enough.’ From the way reasonable enough stuck in Coin’s throat, my uncle and aunt had pelted him with the phrase until he agreed. ‘The Dowager Queen is expected to maintain a certain lifestyle.’
‘Our monthly incomes are now the same. I doubt she will be entertaining more than me.’ I’d hoped Aunt Jienne would avoid this sort of indirect attack. I couldn’t let it stand.
‘Are you certain you want to wage this battle, Your Majesty?’
‘Quite certain.’ I smiled grimly. ‘I want a full expenditure review. Quietly, to avoid tarnishing Uncle’s memory. You’re abundantly 41capable, Master Coin, but it’s time a monarch paid attention to our finances.’
The Master of Coin waited, as if for a punchline. When it didn’t come, he smiled. ‘I’ll do my best for your coronation, Your Majesty.’ The coronation wouldn’t be until after a month of official grieving, and though preparations had quietly started once it was understood Uncle wouldn’t recover, there was a lot still to do. I was trying to immerse myself in ruling to avoid thinking about it, but everyone kept mentioning it.
‘Before you get too excited’ – his smile faded – ‘I have two requests.’
‘Whatever Your Majesty wishes.’ Coin was probably reevaluating our entire conversation, deciding that for all my grand talk I was the same as Uncle: only concerned with getting my own way.
‘I require funding.’
‘For what purpose?’
‘For the Master of Whispers.’
‘Ah,’ Coin said. Few spoke of the position, or the duties involved. The Whispers didn’t just protect me, but also Edar and its people. The identities of active Whispers were never publicly disclosed for their safety, but they had financial resources like all the other Masters and Mistresses, including accounts.
‘Will this be a problem?’
‘Of course not, Your Majesty,’ Coin said. ‘The money will be found.’ For all his complaints about our finances, he would never 42refuse money to my spymaster. ‘Will that be all?’
‘No.’ This was a gamble. Coin wasn’t a fool. He’d kept the strained Treasury functioning despite my uncle and aunt’s demands. There was no logical reason for my request, except that I wanted it, and I couldn’t plant the smallest link in Coin’s mind between Miss Bayonn and Whispers. ‘I propose a weekly meeting where I’m kept informed of our financial affairs.’
‘I highly approve,’ Coin said. ‘I will make the time.’
‘I want Xania Bayonn promoted to the position.’
Instead of blankly staring, as I expected, Coin narrowed his eyes. I couldn’t overstep in his domain, but I needed regular contact with Miss Bayonn. She would also join my ladies, but a promotion would give her additional Treasury access.
‘She hasn’t the necessary experience,’ Coin finally said. ‘Not that I’d trust anyone other than myself to report to you.’
‘Your concern has been noted, but Baron Farhallow speaks highly of her.’ Or he would have, if our introduction had gone as planned.
Coin’s jaw flexed. He didn’t speak for several moments, as if trying to calculate how badly this could reflect on him if Miss Bayonn offended me.
‘If she’s unsatisfactory, you can take over.’ I paused, then threw out my last gambit. ‘Surely you agree it’s time for a new generation to prove themselves?’
Coin relaxed. A new young monarch, eager to promote those 43her own age, was someone he recognised and could handle. And if I was proven wrong – well, it was more leverage for him that I needed his guidance. ‘Very well. Her father was satisfactory’ – high praise from Coin – ‘but her mother does come from a distinguished banking background. What about a trial run, Your Majesty? A month, then we’ll review her performance?’
‘Agreed. That will be all.’ He rose and bowed. When he reached the door, I added, ‘And Master Coin?’
He froze.
I tapped the paper with my aunt’s outrageous budgets. ‘After my aunt and I have discussed her lifestyle expectations, I believe we have the necessary money for your raise.’
Coin opened and closed his mouth, then: ‘Your Majesty…’
‘You may leave.’
It wasn’t bribery when the Queen ordered it. Or so I assured myself.
Everyone, no matter their noble intentions, had a price.
Chapter Six
Xania
Coin’s temper had been short today, his instructions clipped and incomplete. Everyone had given him a wide berth. Now we were the last ones in the Treasury.
‘Up here, Bayonn,’ he said. ‘Now.’
The Queen had warned me to prepare for this. It hadn’t made it easier. I’d worked hard to prove myself since joining the Treasury, determined to get promoted on my own merits. She’d ruined my efforts with barely a raised eyebrow.
From the tight set of Coin’s mouth, he was either proud or furious with me. Maybe both. With him, they were often two sides of the same… well, coin.
He tapped his pen against his blotter. Not a good sign.
‘Bayonn, how did you attract Her Majesty’s notice?’
‘I impressed her.’ Not the smartest thing I’d ever done.
Coin jabbed the pen nib into the blotter. ‘Never impress a Queen.’
‘I’ll take that into consideration for the next one.’ 45
He graced me with a raised eyebrow and a faint smile, then stood. ‘Follow me. Her Majesty requested that I trust you with new duties, and I am her servant.’
I followed him up the spiralling steps behind his desk.
The Treasury grew every few years: the paperwork and records constantly demanded more space. When the rooms strained at the seams, they’d looked up instead, carving mezzanines between the higher floors, looping stairs into the gaps to connect them.
Coin liked to tell visitors the groaning shelves would probably collapse, eventually, and kill us.
Two floors up, he unlocked a door I hadn’t been allowed through before. The smell of old paper and older parchment hung in the air. A large table took up most of the room, surrounded by walls of locked drawers. Splashes of colour and engraved symbols beside the keyholes denoted the shelving systems. Only Coin fully knew how it all cross-referenced. It wasn’t enough to become Master of Coin through bribery or outside influence; without knowledge and experience, the Treasury would devour itself within days.
‘Sit,’ Coin said.
I faced a stack of paper, pens, and ink.
He sat opposite me. ‘I will speak. You will take notes.’
I’d had sessions like this with my supervisors. They examined my Treasury knowledge, drilled me on how to respond to unusual paperwork, or nobles digging their heels in against the reality of 46their finances: everything I needed to know to rise up the ranks. Being examined by Coin would be harder, but not impossible.
When he finally paused for breath, ink splattered my papers and trembling fingers. A steady ache throbbed behind my right eye.
‘Take a moment, Bayonn.’
I cleaned my fingers. ‘If this is what the Queen’s weekly meetings are like, why would anyone want to rule?’
‘Excellent question,’ Coin said. ‘Welcome to duty’s pretty chain. Why are we concerned about the potential southern drought?’
‘It could threaten the harvests.’ Coin had recommended increased port trading to soften the blow, but – ‘If they’re affected, the Queen will have to buy grain. If Farezi realises our harvests are failing, they’ll raise their grain prices.’ And Coin would have to find the money somewhere, regardless, so people could still eat bread.
The long, curt lesson of droughts, and harvests, and upset nobles – everything feeding into everything – made my head spin. My usual grumbling about paperwork and budgets felt puny. The Queen was the heart of Edar, but when the Treasury felt pain it affected everything else.
The Treasury’s funds depended not only on taxes, but on nobles approaching Coin for loans instead of the banks. I’d never truly realised how much Coin had to be aware of so everything ran smoothly. No part of the precarious balance under his control 47could fail.
Not even the groaning shelves.
Coin frowned, and reached for one of the many sets of keys on his belt. He eased a key off and held it out. ‘Do not make me regret this, Bayonn.’
It was reassuringly solid in my palm. The symbols carved into the head corresponded to the drawers it opened. Coin guarded access to his kingdom jealously. Those directly under him who’d worked here the longest had keys to specific rooms or records, but still had only a combined fraction of access. No one could loan a key to someone else. It meant the rest of us had to run around to get any necessary extra files. It made for frustrated, long days, but you adapted to Coin’s methods or didn’t work for him.
I was years away from getting any key. Or I had been. ‘You honour me, sir.’
‘No. I honour our Queen.’
Someone knocked on the main doors below. We stared at each other. No one visited the Treasury this late at night.
‘Stay here.’ Coin hurried downstairs as the knocking turned into pounding.
I crept towards the railings and crouched to peer down at the main floor. Coin’s cat – a mass of silky black and white fur, known only as Coin’s cat despite all the names people had tried over the years, and just as grumpy as him – crept out from wherever she’d been hiding, and butted her head against my legs until I scratched 48behind her ears.
He flung open the doors. ‘What?’
‘Master Coin.’
I stiffened at Lady Brenna’s voice. She and Lord Hazell were influential Government members – and Vigrante’s closest allies. To reach him, you went through them first.
‘Lady Brenna.’ Coin’s voice held a note of surprise. ‘This is unexpected.’ He stepped back to let her into the room.
Her pale brown curls tumbled around her shoulders. She flicked at imaginary creases on her green dress. ‘A word in your office, please,’ she said. ‘I’m not on Vigrante’s business.’ Her tone didn’t quite ring true.
‘Of course.’ Coin sounded wary. He led her to his office, which he only used for meetings, preferring to supervise us while he worked. The door shut, almost decisively, as if warning me not to eavesdrop.
I sighed and returned to the room, the cat chirping as she raced ahead.
Brenna was hardly ten years older than me. When she was my age, her family had hoped for a match in Farezi’s higher circles, who disliked their noble ladies considering careers. A long-term Treasury rumour insisted that Coin had offered her a position that completely bypassed the lower ranks, which her family had refused on her behalf. But Vigrante had seen the ghost of her potential. No wonder she’d allied with him. 49
I hefted the key in my palm, eyeing the drawers around me. My key had been engraved with a barbed rose, a peacock feather, and a quarter moon, splashed with red. I opened drawers with those symbols, trying to figure out what Coin had granted me access to – or what the Queen had demanded I have access to.
I now had information on people and families I wasn’t normally privy to. But Coin’s punch of a lecture, and each drawer I opened, hinted that it extended to other areas in the Treasury connected to the Queen.
And Coin surely expected me to keep up with my current work.
And if I became the new Whispers...
I’d just have to learn to survive on less sleep.
I pulled open another rose drawer. I’d expected more papers on Sixth or Seventh Step families, including delicate information like ill-advised loans they’d bargained Coin for, but this one was full of Government members’ financial information.
‘You’re a Treasury employee,’ the Queen had said. ‘It won’t be difficult to involve you in certain affairs.’
It must have infuriated Coin to give me this kind of access.
I rubbed the engraved symbols on my key. No one beyond myself and Coin would access these drawers for a while. Not only had the Queen insisted on giving me increased access, but it looked like she’d also forced Coin to rearrange his system around it. She’d promised me royal power to fuel my vengeance, and played the first card of her promise. 50
I pulled out two files and spread them on the table.
Lady Brenna.
Lord Hazell.
I had no proof they’d helped Vigrante orchestrate Papa’s death. But they kept Vigrante in power, vocal in their support in return for his favours and reach. If I wanted to expose Vigrante’s weaknesses, destroying his power base was a good place to begin.
