Chapter 12
“I’m not interested in managing the festivities,” I interrupted Gratia. “What else does a queen do?”
Gratia’s eyes narrowed. “A queen does many things, but event planning is a big part of that.”
“They’re pointless and boring.”
Carmine’s sister cast me a withering look. “Exactly. What do you think royals get up to if we don’t make them a little miserable?”
Huh. That was a point. “They would create their own misery.”
Gratia sighed. “She has some sense in her. Yes, they would. And they still do, but in far lesser volume than if we didn’t give them an outlet that was also a small punishment with its regularity.”
“I wouldn’t begrudge any of that if I didn’t need to attend. As queen, I declare that I won’t attend.”
She snorted. “You’re not queen yet, and a queen still answers to my brother. My advice? Make friends with the idea that you will always—every night for the duration of your life—attend a nightly festivity. Unless you spawn a child, and then you might have a week off.”
I worked hard not to let my reaction show. “Just a week?”
She shrugged. “Anything more is lazy.”
My gut twinged, and I didn’t resist as my divination magic rose to the fore. “You won’t think the same when you birth your twins.”
Gratia wrenched to look at me. “What did you say?”
I strode down the hall. “I’ll consider your advice, Gratia, but I’d like to learn a queenly duty that doesn’t make me want to stab my eyes out first.”
The demon grabbed my arm, and I allowed her to spin me back.
“What did you say, Syera?” she pressed. “About spawning children.”
First, I had to admit that the spawning part was accurate, having been through the experience myself. Second… “I would like you to show me the other queenly tasks first.”
She swallowed and nodded. “Done.”
“All right then,” I replied, then gripped both of her hands and closed my eyes. My divination magic flowed from my center and over the other demon. She hissed at the sting.
My voice floated between us, and my words arose from the source of my power and not really from me. They were from my ancestors. From the mother herself—the source of magus power. “Soon you will find your mate. You will birth twins. First. Then more.”
She sucked in a breath. “How many? Who is my mate? How long until I meet him?”
I opened my eyes and drew my hands out. “Best to have some mystery in life, Gratia. Now, what’s first?”
There was a lull.
“Decide on a queenly pursuit!” The demon’s snapped reply wasn’t totally convincing. She was more than a little rattled. Her crimson eyes blazed.
I cast her a look. “Like world peace?”
Gratia’s expression went blank. Probably at the word peace. “Something for the demon populace. Or something that supports the king’s reign.”
Oh. “Okay, I’ve got it.”
“Already?”
“Yes.”
Gratia walked faster to keep up with me. “Which is?”
“To eradicate all loincloths and nipple string in five years.”
There was a pause before Gratia laughed. “It will take longer than that. You should have seen what they wore five hundred years ago. Not that I did. The description was enough.”
“What was it?”
“Less than a loincloth.”
I squinted. “They were naked?”
“No, they wore clothes. But less than a loincloth.”
I didn’t even want to know. “Well, we’re on the up and up then. Next stop, underwear. Where is the place where clothes are made?”
“You want to see the tailors?” Gratia said uncertainly. “I believed you were jesting. Anything that mocks the kingdom, mocks my brother. He will be displeased.”
I fixed her with a look, and she grinned.
“Right this way.” Gratia took the lead, and for the first time in all my years spent in the fortress, I left the top level. Of course, I’d known about these doors that fitted seamlessly into the stone walls or behind tapestries, but only servants had ever used them.
Only servants dwelled underneath.
I’d expected the tailors would live outside the royal fortress, and that perhaps the kitchens and laundry rooms were hidden somewhere.
I descended the spiral staircase after Gratia, calmed by the dark shadows there.
The stairs ended at an identical stone hall to the one we’d just left.
Minus any splendor. Servants bustled here and there with platters or drinks or baskets of clothing and supplies.
They curtsied deeply to us before carrying on.
While my presence was unusual, I could tell that Gratia’s was not.
She strode down the hall, and I peeked into the rooms that we passed. Bed chambers, tiny. Washrooms. Laundry rooms. The kitchen was enormous and occupied the entire heart of this level as Carmine’s personal rooms did on the level above. There were storerooms and multiple sculleries and pantries.
Conversation died off as we passed a hall where demons of yellow and orange scales were relaxing.
A crimson exited a hidden stone door ahead. Had she come from the upper levels? The stone door was much like the one we’d walked through. There had to be doors on this level that descended to the dungeon.
My sister could be on the other side of that door.
The crimson met my gaze, and I held her stare until she smirked and looked away. Her name was Steth. She was one of the most powerful crimsons and a favorite of Carmine’s mother.
Gratia entered a room, and I hurried after her. We’d entered an enormous chamber. Rolls of fabric covered an entire wall. Tables were arranged beside mannequins. Threads of every color covered a smaller section of wall.
Wow. This place was a designer’s version of a weapon room.
Silence had fallen, and when I noticed it, I also noticed that Gratia had backed away to leave me to handle our sudden entrance.
I scanned the room. “I seek the designer who made me the dress with the sleeveless bodice and tulip skirt.
Demons blinked back at me. What the fuck is a tulip? they seemed to be asking.
I opened a small portal and shot a hand through to grab the dress. After closing the portal, I held the dress up. “Who designed this?”
I made sure to inject some fury into my voice, as though I intended to murder the person. Other demons—stronger demons—would be quick to claim the work if they believed I’d liked it.
But if they believe the opposite…
Around forty hands rose and pointed to the middle of the room.
Two demons sat at a table, one woman with blue scales, and one woman with purple scales.
Unusual to find a purple in here. They weren’t common in the royal fortress because they did very well for themselves out in the larger realm and worked closely with the reds out there.
I joined the two demons in the middle and held up the dress. “This is a beautiful dress. The best I have ever worn in this realm. Who made it?”
The purple paused to smirk her victory at the onlookers, then answered, “Yiti designed it, and I made it.”
Was that normal? I opened my mouth to ask, then caught the size of Yiti’s hands. They finished in stumps instead of hands. She would have healed from that unless someone had also used iron to ensure the injury was permanent. Whoa, that was a new level of twisted.
“I see,” I replied. “What’s your name, demon?”
The purple swept a low curtsey. “Tewewh, Mate-Intended. I am the head designer of the royal morning wear collection.”
“So you design loincloths for morning time?” I asked.
She cocked a brow. “That is the trend.”
I tossed her the dress. “That is not the trend for a queen, and the queen will set the trend for all. Are you prepared for battle?”
She exchanged a look with Yiti, who had not spoken once and hardly looked up.
Tewewh clutched the dress tight and nodded several times. “Yes, my queen. Mate-Intended, I mean.”
“Present me with designs in three days’ time. Make sure the designs are in this strain. Your sole task is to clothe me now, so if it clashes with your other roles, you will need to give them up.”
I turned and left as they hastened to curtsey.
This queen gig was a stroll in the park. Gratia joined me as I ambled down the hall, marking the areas where a door to the lower levels was present. They were almost in the same places as the doors on the level above, though I could tell this level was narrower than the top one.
Gratia murmured, “What’s next?”
I glanced at her. “Are you getting me into trouble, Gratia?”
“You’re doing that yourself.”
True enough. “What else could a queen possibly be in charge of. I’ll be quite overwhelmed with setting the trend and arranging banal festivities.”
“You’ll meet with the head servants each week to make various decisions for the week ahead, whether guest arrangements or menus for banquets.
You will need to issue periodic invitations to various reds and purples in the larger realm in order to keep up appearances and connections.
This must also be done with those within the fortress, the females in particular, and through them, their mates, male relatives, and their children.
In time, you must have a connection to everyone. ”
That was exactly what I needed to do, and yet that seemed a monumental task and one I really did not wish to spend any time on. “You will include me in any meetings and network processes from now on. I will spend time with you at the banquets from now on too.”
Gratia did not answer aside from a slow nod.
“Anything else while we’re on the subject?”
She pulled a face. “A lot of minor tasks. You are in charge of the fortress’s appearance and of changing that. Carmine wouldn’t allow me to touch things.”
Hmm. Was that so?
“And a queen also holds an army position, though I don’t know which. The position is only decorative, and Carmine didn’t see a need for me to uphold that.”
Consider me intrigued.
I’d dismissed queenly duties, but Carmine was almost dangling everything I needed before my very eyes.
Which meant he was doing so on purpose, whether to feel me out or to convince me of my power in the fortress.
Ah, Carmine. Your arrogance will be your undoing.
“Let’s redecorate now,” I told Gratia.
Her eyes widened as she hastened after me. “Redecorate?”
“Redecorate,” I said gravely. “Where’s the paint?”