Chapter XXXVIII Laruna
XXXVIII Laruna
“You can’t!” Ronan rises and turns to Magnar. “My king, do you hear the way she speaks to me? I am a loyal servant to the crown, I am! I will not be disrespected after years of service!”
Magnar smiles faintly and reaches over to a tray with supplies for the meeting. There is a selection of ornate, gold hourglasses, and he picks the smallest one. He settles it on the table in front of him with a gentle clink. The sand trickles into the empty chamber.
“You heard your queen,” he says, still with that small, eerie smile. “Five minutes.”
Ronan stares at Magnar with disbelief, but my husband raps on the table next to the hourglass, and the minister springs to action. He exits the council room at a near run, muttering under his breath.
“She can’t read it, anyway.”
I smile and turn to the other ministers, who sit in watchful silence. “You, too. I want everyone’s book on this table by the time the hourglass empties.”
A few open their mouths to protest, but others get up at once and run out of the room. I note everyone’s reactions, knowing I won’t punish those who obeyed my order instantly. They won’t be a problem.
Those who shuffle their feet and throw me nasty looks, oh, those I’ll watch closely. Idrina said I can’t replace thirteen ministers at once, and she was right, but two or three shouldn’t be a problem. She’ll have some candidates lined up for me, and I’ll take my pick.
When the room empties, Magnar pulls me closer until I stand between his spread legs.
“Feel that?” he asks, pulling my hand roughly to his bulge. “That’s how much I liked it. They are yours from now on. Put them in their place.”
“Can I select a few candidates for positions in the council, should some open?” I ask, fluttering my lashes at him.
“Of course. Do whatever you want.”
I am giddy, my heart racing from what I just did. Not only has no one punished me, the ministers actually did what I said. Yes, it required Magnar’s support, but he gave it freely. I gaze into his silver eyes, deep gratitude welling in my heart.
“Thank you. You have no idea how much it meant. I am in your debt.”
He smiles with pleasure and lifts my chin up to give me a soft kiss. “A debt? We can settle it in bed tonight. You, me, my cock, your cunt—what do you say?”
I giggle. He looks so handsome like this, mischievous and roguish despite his exhaustion.
“To you, always yes.”
He kisses me again, but when I try to lick my tongue inside his mouth, he pulls back. “No, love. I still have to sit through their reports, which will hopefully be more efficient thanks to your intervention.”
He rubs his forehead, the shadows returning to his face, and I sigh. His tenacity is admirable, but I worry he’ll push himself too hard.
“I’ll hasten them if they grow too poetic or squabble like last time,” I promise, kissing his brow. “And maybe we’ll be done in an hour instead of three.”
When the ministers pile into the room, each carrying a sizable book, I give them a grim smile and walk outside to get Raduna, who stands guard in the corridor.
“I’ll need you to grab Arvi and Khay, and then you’ll take the ministers’ books to Idrina. She’ll tell you what to do. Oh, and tell her I want her personally combing through Ronan’s book. She’d better find something.”
He bows with a smile. “Yes, my queen.”
See, Ronan? That’s how you treat a queen.
Idrina’s advice turns out to be golden. With their books in my possession, the ministers grow manageable, even Ronan, though he keeps shooting me resentful looks.
Normally, commanding a bunch of older, respectable men would be an excruciating experience—but I only have to look at Magnar’s tired face for my resolve to strengthen.
He’s protected me many times in the past, and this is an area where I can protect him and his time. So I cut in, again and again, whenever a minister strays into flowery language or takes too long shuffling his notes.
“We don’t need that metaphor, Minister. Just the numbers, please.”
“Do you need a minute to gather your thoughts? I wish you had come prepared.”
“Next time, distill your report into three sentences containing the crucial information. Thank you.”
They grow flustered and angry, their pride wounded, but no one opposes me. The meeting finishes in forty-five minutes, and Magnar laughs after they leave, shaking his head.
“You were magnificent. You know, I tried to manage them at the start. I’d use threats to make them get to the point, but they never reacted well.”
I smile, shaking out my arms. My back and neck hurt from the constant tension, but it was worth it.
“I want you to take the two hours I just saved you and take a nap,” I say, hands hidden behind my back to keep them from nervous wringing.
I might manage the ministers, but Magnar is not my subordinate. He’s headstrong, and he’ll probably ignore me. It takes me aback when he smiles and nods.
“Yes, bossy wife. But you’ll have to lull me to sleep.”
He leads me to my bedroom, and I draw the curtains. The windows are closed, the autumn day cold and windy, though the sun peeks through the clouds from time to time. Magnar pulls me into bed and winds his arms around me, purring contentedly.
“Mmm… Wake me up in two hours. Promise, love.”
“I will. Now sleep.”
He’s out like a light, breathing deeply, his face peaceful. It feels tempting to fall asleep with him, but then, I wouldn’t wake up on time, and Magnar would be cross. He’d never let me rope him into a nap again, which would be disastrous. I have to plan for the long term.
So I sigh and extricate myself, going to see Idrina instead. As I make my way through the keep, I feel odd, like something is not quite right. Then I realize—it’s the first time I’m without a guard.
The corridors aren’t overly busy this afternoon.
It will be dusk in three hours, and everyone will rush to dinner in the hall downstairs, but now, most inhabitants seem to be busy elsewhere.
I pass two women who I vaguely remember are related to one of the ministers, then a young boy with his nanny—some general’s grandson.
It’s my home, I remind myself. I should be safe here, yet I can’t help but search for menace in their eyes, contempt in their perfunctory bows. The back of my neck itches, and I keep looking over my shoulder, certain someone must follow me.
When I reach Idrina’s room, I push inside without knocking, and release a shaky breath of relief when the door closes behind me.
My knights look up, all three spread all over the room.
Arvi sits in an armchair, his legs crossed at the ankles on a footstool, while Raduna reads by the window, and Khay lies on the floor on his stomach.
Idrina sits in her usual armchair, looking uncharacteristically pleased—like an old cat that got a full bowl of cream.
When they see me, both Arvi and Khay jump to their feet, and Raduna surges toward me, almost knocking over a small table.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
I shake my head. “N-nothing. I just walked fast.”
“But the meeting,” Raduna says with a frown. “Have you left? I was going to get you, just wanted to get a head start on this.”
I blink with confusion, finally laughing. “Oh, the meeting! We finished early. Magnar’s asleep, and I wanted to see how you’re doing.”
“I am so sorry,” Raduna says with contrition. “I should have instantly gone back, I just assumed…”
“Oh, sit down,” Idrina cuts in impatiently. “She’s fine, don’t you see? Now, come here, girl. You can’t read yet, but I’m going to show you some cues to look for. Ronan is your scapegoat, by the way. How did you know?”
“I just don’t like him,” I mutter, pulling up a chair to sit by her side.
She cackles, thumping her blanket-covered thigh. My knights sprawl out again, each with his own book, and I get a quick lecture on reporting omissions and numbers that don’t match. Mathematics is universal in our part of the world, so at least I can read the numbers.
“Prepare your argument before you try him,” Idrina says. “Take a week or two. Make them sweat.”
And so I do. I spend many days in the queen’s study, which is as austere as Magnar’s but smaller, and prepare for Ronan’s trial. When I pass him in the halls, I respond with cool nods to his sloppy, disrespectful bows. He doesn’t know he’ll die yet.
My knights help me, translating from law writs concerning the royal council.
As the queen, I am the law, and yet that very law requires me to have a good reason for every beheading I order.
I’m shocked to discover Agnidari regulations are far stricter than human laws in the Eleven.
My father had absolute power and never had to justify himself to anyone.
Not so here. And so I fret over my speech, triple-checking everything with Idrina. If I fail, it will be entirely my fault. I haven’t involved Magnar, since he has other problems on his mind.
He does lend me a few soldiers, whom I use to follow trails under Idrina’s guidance. We must have a solid case, because everyone taking part in that trial will want to see me fail. And I can’t.
The beheading will be my responsibility. I won’t perform it myself—I get to push that dreadful duty onto one of my knights. But the decision is mine, and the consequences of it, also.
One cold, bright day, I seek out Arvi in the gardens at the back of the keep. Khay accompanies me there and leaves me in Arvi’s care by the ponds.
I look around, drawing the sides of my woolen coat tighter around myself. The wind is biting, and the leaden surface of the pond ripples with its chilly assault.
Arvi throws a knife at the water, his forehead lined with tension.
“How did you feel the first time you killed somebody?” I ask, fingering the sheath containing the small knife he once gave me as a reminder of my fighting spirit. I carry it on my belt. It’s probably useless as a weapon, but I find its weight on my waist comforting.