Castles in Their Bones (Castles in Their Bones #1)

Sophronia

Not even five minutes into her first council meeting, is sure of one thing: Leopold has no hand at all in running Temarin. She knew he was uninvolved with most things, but now she doubts he’s ever made a decision as king that wasn’t whispered in his ear first. He might wear the crown. He might even believe he is in charge, and if his council members were asked, they would surely agree with him, but her mother was right: Queen Eugenia runs Temarin from the coastline to the Bessemian border, with the help of the other council members, Lord Verning and Lord Covier, whose primary function seems to be to agree with whatever she says.

“We’ve received word from Lord Savelle,” Lord Verning says after introductions are made. He glances at . “That is our ambassador stationed in the Cellarian court, Your Majesty,” he adds, in the same tone one would use when explaining something to a small child. forces a grateful smile, as if she didn’t already know this and hadn’t had a letter from Beatriz just this morning detailing her habit of morning strolls with Lord Savelle. It doesn’t sound like the seduction their mother planned, but Beatriz has always been one to handle things her own way.

Lord Verning clears his throat before continuing. “He expressed concerns for King Cesare’s…health.”

“Is my brother ill?” Queen Eugenia asks, tilting her head. studies her as casually as she can, searching for any indication of undue concern, but Eugenia betrays nothing that suggests she’s been in contact with him. She might as well be hearing news about a casual acquaintance instead of her sibling.

“Not so much ill as…temperamental,” Lord Verning says carefully.

“That is not news,” Queen Eugenia says with a laugh. “Cesare has always been temperamental.”

“Yes, but more recently he’s taken to jailing and executing any person who disagrees with him. I believe the Duke of Dorinthe was the most recent casualty of his temper,” Lord Verning says.

Queen Eugenia’s eyebrows rise. “He had a duke executed?” she asks.

“Indeed. Lord Savelle also mentioned that he has been behaving inappropriately toward his new daughter-in-law.”

“Beatriz?” can’t help but ask. It’s the first thing she’s said during the meeting, and she’d been resolved to hold her tongue and listen, but the mention of her sister makes it impossible. She knows that Beatriz can handle herself, but still, the thought of her sister having to contend with a lecherous and possibly mad king makes her feel sick.

“Well, he’d hardly be the first king to try to seduce a young bride away from her husband,” Lord Covier points out.

“From what Lord Savelle says, Princess Beatriz has proven quite adept at rebuffing him. But his attentions have been…public.”

“He’s making an ass of himself,” Queen Eugenia surmises.

“He’s losing the respect of his court,” Lord Verning says. “There have been rumblings of coups from families close to the throne, but no one can agree on who they would support to replace him.”

“Why wouldn’t Pasquale?” Leopold asks, echoing ’s own thoughts. “He is the crown prince.”

“Prince Pasquale has no allies of his own at court,” Lord Verning says. “And there are many families hungry for power who wouldn’t think twice of climbing over him to take it.”

Oh, be careful, Triz, thinks, though she knows her sister would laugh off her concern. And with good reason. If anyone can woo the Cellarian courtiers to her side, it’s Beatriz.

“He has a friend in Temarin,” Leopold announces. “He’s my cousin, his wife and mine are sisters. If it comes to it, we will give them whatever support we can.”

glances sideways at him, surprised by the passion in the declaration. When the time comes to declare war on Cellaria, she doubts she’ll have trouble convincing Leopold to do it.

Lord Verning exchanges a look with Queen Eugenia, so quick that almost misses it. Could it be that he’s involved in Eugenia’s plot with Cellaria as well? Before she can ponder that possibility further, Lord Verning turns back to Leopold with a bland smile.

“Of course, Your Majesty, we will keep you apprised of the situation.”

“Good,” Leopold says before glancing at . “The queen and I would like to discuss the palace’s finances,” he announces.

“Oh?” Lord Covier asks, sitting up and flipping through the stack of papers in front of him. “Ah yes, it looks like we are prepared to increase taxes two percent next month to increase the palace treasury, though we can also increase Kavelle’s city taxes if you would like more—”

“No,” Leopold interrupts, his eyes widening. “No, the opposite, in fact. We’ve been discussing the possibility of trimming palace expenses so that we can cut taxes.”

Lord Covier, Lord Verning, and Queen Eugenia exchange looks.

“I don’t understand, Your Majesty,” Lord Covier says, leaning forward. “You wish to be less affluent?”

Leopold frowns, looking to for help, so she jumps in.

“We have become aware of the plight many of the commoners in Temarin are facing,” she says. “They can barely afford the taxes they are paying now. After looking over the accounts for the royal family, we’ve spent over thirty million asters so far this month alone. Many of our people can’t afford to put food on their tables. Why should we take what little money they have to buy ourselves diamonds?”

“Diamonds?” Queen Eugenia asks with a laugh. “Surely we didn’t spend thirty million asters on diamonds, .”

“No,” allows, looking down at the stack of papers she brought with her, containing highlights of the account documents she and Leopold have spent the last few nights going over. “No, it looks like diamonds and other jewels cost three million this month. Various parties and celebrations totaled ten million—”

“Well, the wedding was a large expense,” Lord Covier interrupts.

“My dowry paid for the wedding,” tells him. “It wasn’t included in my calculations. Shall we talk about the gifts?”

“What gifts?” Queen Eugenia asks.

searches her papers again. “There was the one-million-aster hunting lodge you bought for Lord Haverill, the six-hundred-thousand-aster necklace you gave Lady Reves, and the”— feigns a squint for added drama, though she knows exactly what she’s looking at—“solid gold tennis racket that you had made for Sir Eldrick that cost a particularly magnanimous nine hundred thousand asters.”

Queen Eugenia’s gaze hardens, but she meets ’s stare. “I like to think that generosity toward friends is a positive trait, Sophie.”

Friends, thinks. Eugenia has no friends at court. Which makes the extravagant gifts all the more perplexing.

“Perhaps it would be more generous if any of that money was spent in Temarin,” replies. “But the lodge is just across the Bessemian border, the necklace came from Cellaria, and the tennis racket was custom-made in Friv. I’m sure their economies are very grateful for your generosity.”

Queen Eugenia purses her lips like she’s tasted something sour. “I can’t help but feel quite targeted here,” she says, her voice tight.

“Apologies, Genia,” says with a blinding smile before turning toward the man to her left. “Lord Covier, I understand you raised taxes on your domain more than ten percent over the last year? Shall we delve into the impressive gambling debts you’ve racked up that your tenants are paying for?”

Beside her, Leopold gives a snort of laughter that he tries to disguise as a cough, while Lord Covier turns a curious shade of puce.

“You are oversimplifying matters, Your Majesty,” Lord Verning says. “Many other factors contribute to the decision to raise taxes. Infrastructure costs, the salaries of those paid by the crown…our war treasury, should we ever need it. It’s far more complicated than you might realize.”

“Do you think so?” asks, furrowing her brow and shuffling her papers to bring another to the front. “Because I have the numbers for all of those things you mentioned, as well as Temarin’s budgets for several other necessary aspects of running a country. Shall we go over them one by one? I’m particularly interested in this one, which shows that significant amounts of money have actually been withdrawn from Temarin’s war chest, without any indication of what was done with that money.”

She watches Eugenia closely as she pushes the piece of paper to the center of the table so they can see it clearly, the relevant sections underlined by herself when Leopold handed them to her last night. It was worse than had imagined—when King Carlisle died, Temarin’s war chest totaled over five billion asters. Now it totals less than fifty million. Barely enough to pay for food rations for their troops for two months, certainly not enough to pay for weaponry or build up defenses. And if Cellaria attacks by sea like they did in the Celestian War, Temarin will not be able to afford to use the fleet Leopold’s father spent so much time and money assembling. They are, as of now, defenseless.

And there it is—the flash of fear on Eugenia’s face. Not fear at the situation or what it means, but the fear of someone who has been caught. It isn’t guilt, not quite, but it’s close. She quickly smooths it over with a smile.

“A misunderstanding, I’m sure,” she says, picking up the piece of paper to take a closer look. “I’ll have a word with our accountants about it, but I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for the withdrawals. After all, Temarin hasn’t had need of its war chest in two decades, and as you said, we are in the middle of a financial crisis. Perhaps it was decided that the money would be more useful elsewhere.”

“By whom, exactly?” Leopold asks. realizes she’s never heard him angry before, not even last night when she explained exactly what the documents meant. He’s angry now, though, his voice quiet and steady but his eyes blazing. “Because the document shows that those withdrawals were made after my father’s death, but I certainly never signed off on them.”

An uneasy silence falls over the table, only broken when Queen Eugenia leans across the table to take hold of her son’s hand. “Oh, Leo,” she says with a soft smile. “Your father would be so proud to see you take control of things, but darling, you must remember that he trusted Lord Covier, Lord Verning, and me to help you rule. Sometimes we had to make some small decisions in your absence—it is our duty to you and to Temarin. It was your father’s final wish.”

sees the moment Leopold begins to soften and doubt the numbers he’s seen with his own eyes. She braces herself for his reversal, but instead he shakes his head.

“My father’s final wish was for me to be king,” he says. “I don’t think I have been a good one so far, but I will be. And I intend to start by finding out exactly what happened to the war chest and replenishing it immediately.” He pulls his hand from his mother’s and leans back in his seat. “We can go through the accounts item by item if you like, but I will be lowering Temarin’s countrywide taxes by half next month, and Kavelle’s city taxes as well.”

The three council members splutter. “Your Majesty, that number is far too great,” Lord Covier says. “Perhaps we can work toward it in time, but one percent might be a more reasonable—”

“Half,” Leopold repeats. “ and I have gone over our accounts and there will be some sacrifices to make, but I assure you it is doable and necessary, given the damage our careless spending has wrought on our subjects over the last year. In addition, I would like to make it known that no nobleman’s regional taxes can exceed ten percent of a commoner’s income.”

It’s a plan he and came to together, after going over the accounts—a number small enough so that the people may recover their losses from past months while allowing them to also live and save for the future, but large enough to cover necessities and begin rebuilding the war chest in case those funds cannot be recovered. Hearing Leopold lay out the plan in his clear voice, with a steady gaze that betrays no weakness, is enough to make her swoon a bit.

“It is too much, Your Majesty,” Lord Verning says, shaking his head. “Your court will be devastated by the loss of their income.”

“It is one of the perks of being of noble birth,” Lord Covier adds. “You understand that, Your Majesty. What is the point of being king if you cannot live in luxury?”

Leopold frowns. “My father might have died before he could teach me much about being a king,” he says. “But he made sure I knew that it was a duty, not a gift. That duty is to the people of Temarin, and it is not one that can be ignored.”

“Eugenia,” Lord Covier says. “Surely you can help explain why this is a terrible idea?”

Queen Eugenia opens her mouth but quickly closes it again when she catches ’s eye. Though doesn’t speak so much as a word of threat, Queen Eugenia hears it all the same, and for the barest instant, she looks like she’d like nothing better than to launch herself across the table and strangle with her bare hands. Instead, she forces a smile and turns to her son.

“Of course, darling,” she says. “It is a brilliant plan and I’m sure Temarin will be very grateful to you for it.”

—

That night, tells Violie all about the meeting while Violie helps her out of her dress and into her nightgown and plaits her hair. skips over certain bits that Violie doesn’t need to know—like how she’d blackmailed Queen Eugenia into agreeing with her or that her suspicions about Eugenia conspiring with her brother have been all but confirmed—but she doesn’t see the harm in telling Violie the rest. If Violie hadn’t given her the first batch of household bills, she might never have known how bad things in Temarin were.

“You should have seen Leopold,” tells her. “He was magnificent. I barely recognized him.”

“It sounds like you were quite magnificent yourself, Sophie,” Violie says, securing ’s plait with a scrap of yellow ribbon.

blushes, but she knows Violie’s right—she was magnificent. She stood her ground against three of the most powerful people in Temarin; she held them responsible for their actions, pushed for a solution they hated, and even blackmailed a queen to see it done. She can’t help but remember all the times she folded before her mother at the slightest hint of conflict. She’d never been able to stand up for herself.

But this wasn’t about standing up for herself, she realizes. It was about standing up for others, for the people of Temarin who didn’t have the power to stand up for themselves. She did that, and she feels proud of herself for it.

“The empress won’t be pleased, I’d bet,” Violie says, drawing out of her thoughts.

She frowns, catching Violie’s eye in the large gilded mirror.

“The empress?” she asks slowly. “What does my mother have to do with anything?”

Violie blinks twice before shaking her head. “Sorry, I meant Queen Eugenia. Old habit, I suppose,” she says with a laugh. “Empresses, queens, it gets a bit confusing sometimes. Why are there different names for the same position, anyway?”

“Oh,” says, somewhat surprised. She’s heard the story so much growing up that it’s ingrained in her mind, but even though Violie grew up mere miles away from , it was an entirely different world. “Well, about five centuries ago, the Bessemian Empire included the whole continent—Temarin, Cellaria, and Friv as well. A few wars later, lands were surrendered, independences won, and Bessemia became the small but proud nation it is today, but the title remains. As you said, old habits.”

Violie smiles. “Well, what I meant was that Queen Eugenia couldn’t have been pleased. She sent her maid to request a meeting with you tomorrow morning, though request might be too mild a word,” she says.

“Oh,” says, her stomach sinking, though she isn’t surprised. Eugenia doesn’t strike her as the type to go down without a fight. “What did you tell her?”

“That your schedule was quite busy and you couldn’t possibly fit in a meeting with her for three days at least,” Violie says with a wink. “It seemed smart to give her some time to let her anger go from a boil to a simmer.”

“And it reminds her that she is no longer queen,” says. “Brilliantly done, Violie.”

It’s Violie’s turn to blush. “I think you might be rubbing off on me, Sophie.”

When says her good-nights to Violie and slips through the door that connects her dressing room to the bedroom she shares with Leopold, he’s already in bed, sitting up against a pile of pillows with a book open on his lap. When he hears her come in, he looks up, his eyes bright.

“Do you know about tariffs?” he asks her.

can’t help but smile. He’s taken to reading everything he can get his hands on over the last few days, constantly peppering her with questions about tax codes and economic theories. To her mind, they’re silly questions—things she studied years ago that seem like child’s play—but Leopold is enraptured by all of it. She catches sight of a stack of books on his bedside table with pages marked by bits of parchment.

“What about tariffs?” she asks, climbing into bed beside him.

“Well, apparently, if someone—say Lord Friscan—were to buy a horse from Friv instead of a perfectly fine horse from Temarin, we could impose a fee for him to import it. It looks like Temarin had tariffs in place until about fifty years ago, but they were repealed. What if we put them back into place? It would encourage the wealthy to put their money into Temarin’s economy.”

doubts his mother will approve of that.

“I think that’s a brilliant idea,” she says. “Lord Friscan might disagree, though,” she adds.

Leopold waves a dismissive hand. “If Lord Friscan wishes to buy yet another horse from outside Temarin for his already-overflowing prize stables, he can shoulder the cost.”

“The cost that will be paid to us,” points out.

“Ah, yes, but I had a thought about that,” he says, putting his book aside and reaching for another, flipping through until he finds the right place. “A public fund,” he says. “We had one about two hundred years back, during the Great Famine. My many-times-great-grandfather allotted treasury funds to establish the donation of food and necessities to those who couldn’t afford them. We could bring it back and—”

cuts him off with a kiss, taking both of them by surprise. When she pulls back, they’re both blushing.

“What…what was that for?” he asks. “Not that I’m complaining, but…”

But she hasn’t initiated any kind of physical contact since the hangings, and every time he’s touched her, she’s had to force herself not to recoil. She thought she’d done a good job of hiding it, but apparently not.

She shrugs. “All that talk of tariffs and philanthropy is very attractive,” she says.

“I’ll remember that,” he laughs, then sobers. He puts both books on the nightstand and turns toward her. “If I could go back, Sophie, I’d do it all differently. When my father died so suddenly and his council swept in and said they would handle everything, I…was relieved. I was fifteen and I didn’t want my life to change. I wasn’t ready to be king and I knew it. I was glad to have an excuse not to take on the responsibility, glad that someone else would. If I could go back, that’s what I would change. The state Temarin is in now is my fault.”

sees how much it hurts him to say those last words, sees the truth of them hit him square in the chest. She doesn’t know if she’s forgiven him for it, doesn’t know if she’ll ever be able to look at him without seeing those bodies hanging from the gallows, but she also understands that they had very different upbringings. He was a boy who wasn’t prepared to be king, and the blame for that isn’t his alone.

“We can’t change what’s past,” she tells him, placing her palm against his cheek. “But I trust that you’ll change the future.”

“ We’ll change the future,” he tells her, kissing her again, and she’s glad he can’t see her face, sure the myriad of lies she’s told are suddenly etched onto it. When he pulls back,she’s managed to school her features into a smile.

Leopold falls asleep with his arm around her waist, and she can feel his deep, even breaths soft against her neck. She can’t sleep, though.

We’ll change the future. She hears Leopold’s words again and again in her mind, and she begins to imagine what that future might look like, if her mother’s plan didn’t exist. She sees them side by side on the Temarinian throne, sees them older and wiser, riding through a cleaner, happier Kavelle, where the people cheer their names; sees them leading council meetings together, like they did today, but with advisors who respect them. She sees them ruling, together, for the rest of their lives, and she knows they could do it. She knows it deep in her bones.

The only thing she doesn’t know is how that future and the one her mother’s been plotting for can coexist.

—

The next morning, sits down to write her mother a letter she likely should have written immediately after her conversation with Sir Diapollio. She needed proof that the message from King Cesare was legitimate, she tells herself, but she knows that isn’t the whole truth. She was afraid to tell her mother that Eugenia and Cesare were plotting to take Temarin out of her grasp. She was afraid her mother would find some way to twist it into being ’s fault.

But she has not only confirmed those suspicions but started undermining Eugenia’s plans, and she knows her mother cannot find fault with her now—she might even be proud, though that feels like too much to hope for.

Still, is proud of herself, and that feels like enough.

She details the events of the last week in full, including the letter from Cesare to Eugenia word for word, then tells her mother the steps she is taking to undo the damage Eugenia has done. She knows her mother wants Temarin to fall, but on their terms, not Eugenia and Cesare’s. If Cellaria manages to get control of Temarin, Bessemia will have a hard time conquering both.

Feeling quite pleased with herself, uses the Hartley Obfuscation to code the message into a bland and boring letter about the Temarinian weather and gives it to Violie to deliver to Bessemia.