Margaraux
Empress smells the body as soon as she steps into Nigellus’s laboratory.
It’s been two days since she saw Nigellus at the ball—the same night she last saw Beatriz—and she assumed he’d become engrossed in one of his experiments, but she couldn’t wait another moment before apprising him of her new plans. Now, the smell of rotting flesh surrounding her, finds herself unnerved.
The flies lead her to the body, their incessant buzzing drawing her to the cupboard. When she opens it, Nigellus’s body spills out, his torso falling across her feet. With a cry of disgust, steps back.
It’s a shame, she thinks, looking down at him. Her shoes are brand-new, and now they are ruined—not by blood, admittedly, but still. The thought of a dead body touching them is not one that will ever leave her.
“Your Majesty,” a guard says, coming into the room behind her. He stops short when he sees Nigellus’s body.
“He’s quite dead,” tells him when he simply stares at the body, agog. “Arrange for the body to be removed and disposed of. Respectfully, of course, Nigellus has been a friend and advisor for nearly two decades.”
“Of…of course, Your Majesty,” he says, bowing. “Should I arrange for an investigation as well?”
There seems to be little point— knows Beatriz is responsible, though the how and why are a mystery. But as she thinks about it, she would wager that the how is tied to Gisella. instructed her to give Beatriz a fake poison recipe, but the girl apparently saw fit to hedge her bets. Rather than be annoyed, feels a grudging respect for her.
“Yes, an investigation will be needed,” says, returning to the present. She doesn’t share her theory about Beatriz. As far as most of Bessemia knows, her daughters are the devoted, dutiful girls she raised them to be. That makes her think of Daphne, the daughter she believed would never betray her. But when she had her spies search Beatriz’s room after she fled, they returned with a sealed letter found beneath her pillow—a letter Beatriz never received, apparently delivered after she had left.
In Sophie’s last letter to me, she said that if the three of us went against Mama together, we could stand a chance of outsmarting her. I’m sorry that we’ll never know if there was truth to that, but I am by your side now, and the stars themselves couldn’t move me.
Daphne’s betrayal stings far more than Beatriz’s did, but it will make no difference in the end. In less than a month, they will both be dead, and will have everything she ever wanted.
“Very well, Your Majesty,” the guard says.
“Any sightings of Prince Pasquale?” she asks, just barely masking the annoyance that uttering his name raises in her. Gisella’s job was to kill Pasquale before sending word to so she could arrange a small escort to bring them to Cellaria, ideally framing his companion for the murder, but when ’s men arrived, the entire house was empty.
knows that Prince Pasquale would have stood little chance against Gisella—from what she could tell, he was a softhearted boy who wouldn’t even see her betrayal coming. Perhaps she underestimated him, but thinks it’s far more likely that Gisella went back on that aspect of their arrangement, unable to kill her cousin.
Of course, can’t prove that, and Gisella accomplished the most important bit. By the end of the week, all of Bessemia and Cellaria will be talking about how romantic it is, Beatriz and King Nicolo, star-crossed lovers, torn apart by fate and Beatriz’s jealous husband, but reunited when Beatriz ran away to be with him.
“I’m afraid not, Your Majesty,” the guard says. “He seems to have disappeared into thin air.”
“Well, he was last seen with a known criminal, so it’s far more likely he’s in a ditch somewhere, stripped of all his valuables,” Empress says.
If Pasquale doesn’t turn up dead on his own soon enough, she’s sure she won’t have trouble finding a look-alike to use as a corpse. And as soon as Beatriz and Nicolo wed—by force, if necessary—their love story will have its tragic end and Cellaria will be hers. Then she’ll have to turn her attention to Friv.
“I’ve also received word that a messenger from Friv has arrived,” the guard adds, as if reading her mind.
“Excellent,” says, her gaze lingering a moment longer on Nigellus’s waxy face, noting the gash on his temple and his open, empty eyes. Without him, no one would be calling her Your Majesty, but he’s fulfilled his purpose. Still, she thinks she might miss him.
She turns her back on his lifeless body and strides out of the laboratory, the guard at her heels. A servant waits for her outside the door, and snaps her fingers at the girl.
“Fetch another pair of shoes for me right away,” she says. “Have them brought to the throne room—I expect them there before I arrive.”
The maid bobs a quick curtsy before running ahead of , down the stairs and out of sight.
—
The servant girl meets at the entrance to the throne room, presenting a new pair of slippers for her to change into and taking her old ones away.
“Burn them,” tells the girl, who gives a nod.
Then she gestures for the guards to open the doors to the throne room and steps inside. A single messenger awaits her, dressed in Frivian colors and looking—and smelling—as if he came straight to the throne room from his horse.
It must be urgent, she thinks as she takes her throne. Perhaps Daphne is already dead, one of those incompetent assassins finally succeeding at what she hired them to do.
But the messenger bows low and says the last thing expects.
“Your Majesty, I bring joyous news—Queen Sophronia is alive and safe in Friv, with her sister,” he says.
For a long moment, stares at him blankly, trying to make sense of the words he’s spoken. Then she throws her head back and laughs.