Chapter 20
Beatryce had read enough to know that one of the spells that Lady Cynzia had given to Leda might help Anyka. But time had been short and while she thought it might help, it was the kind of thing that needed more studying.
Which she would do as soon as lunch with Dren had finished. A disgruntled inner voice told her to just leave and do what she wanted. That she was queen and that meant something.
But that would be rude. And she liked Dren. She truly did. He was kind and respectful and he’d provided her with Krohl, who was currently standing guard against the wall behind her.
“Any word from your stonecaller on whether or not she can help Mistress Barlow? Have they spoken?”
He swallowed a gulp of wine, washing down his food. “They have spoken and she has promised an answer in the morning. She is spending the rest of the day practicing what needs to be done, to be sure she can do it as required.”
“I suppose that’s a good thing, then.” Bea couldn’t fault the witch for making sure she could heat the blade properly. If she failed, it would not go well for her.
“The roast is excellent,” he said.
She nodded as she cut a piece of the cold roast into smaller bites. “Yes, it is.” He’d eaten twice as much as she had already, his troll appetite on display. “I’m glad you like it. And glad that the kitchen is able to prepare meals to your liking.”
He didn’t answer right away, surprising her. Then he said, “Would you mind if I asked the kitchen to prepare a few more traditional dishes?”
“You mean things you’re more used to eating?”
“Yes. Not that this food isn’t wonderful. It is. I’m very happy with it. I just thought it might be nice to occasionally have some of the things I grew up with.”
That felt like a perfectly natural request to her. “I don’t see why not. Just because you’re making Malveaux your home doesn’t mean you have to abandon your troll heritage.”
He smiled. “Thank you. That would be wonderful. You might like some of them. The numac dumplings are especially good with venison gravy and roasted curta root. The eels, I would imagine, might be more of an acquired taste.”
She nodded. “I imagine they are.” She had no idea what the rest of those things were, aside from the venison.
She had no real desire to try his native foods.
Troll palates weren’t exactly considered refined.
“I suppose I should order the local brewery to keep the palace better supplied with beer, too.”
He laughed. “I can’t say I wouldn’t appreciate that. My court would as well.” He shrugged one thick shoulder. “We do love our beer.”
“I’ll see to it.” Actually, she’d have Wyett see to it.
“Thank you, my darling. Your understanding and willingness to make me comfortable here has only made me love you more.” He started to reach for his fork, then stopped. “That reminds me. I have something for you. It only just arrived from Strongholde.”
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small box, and slipped from his chair to kneel beside hers and offer it up. “I hope this is to your liking, my lady.”
Amused and curious, she took the box and opened it up. A thick gold band engraved with vines held a sizable shield-cut diamond flanked by three additional diamonds on either side. It was blindingly bright.
Had any other queen ever worn a gem this large? It would be impossible to miss on her hand.
She inhaled. “Dren, it’s beautiful.”
“Shall I put it on your finger?”
“Yes, please.” She returned the box to him and stuck out her hand.
He carefully removed the ring and slid it onto her finger. She turned her hand to admire it. The enormous center stone glittered like a living thing. “It’s so bright. It’s marvelous. I love it.”
He was still on his knee, which put him nearly at eye-level. She leaned over and kissed him. “Thank you.”
He was smiling. “Troll diamonds are some of the most beautiful in the realm. Some say it’s because they come from deeper in the earth than any other gem. Some believe it’s because each stone carries a little magic.”
“I hope that’s true. I could use all the magic I can get.”
He got up and took his seat again. “You will not want for diamonds when we are married. I will see to that.”
She almost laughed from the sheer happiness that statement gave her. If it was wrong to adore such things as fine clothes and beautiful gems, then she would accept that she was wrong and never feel an ounce of guilt about it.
That odd voice inside her seemed to agree, telling her that was how a queen should behave.
She sat back, having eaten all that she wanted.
A footman swooped in to take her plate. “Would you like dessert served now, your highness?”
“Yes.” Dessert wasn’t always served at lunch, but that had changed with Dren’s arrival. Trolls loved their sweets.
With a nod, the footman took her plate away. A little guilt crept in that she was enjoying herself while her mother was no better. But soon, Bea would change that. Either through Dren’s stonecaller or Bea would find a way. Leda had given her the tools without even knowing Bea would need them.
She was not about to let such a gift be squandered.
The footman soon returned with a tray bearing two dishes. He placed one in front of Bea first. “Pear and brown sugar ice cream with caramel sauce and an iced sugar cookie.”
The cookie was stuck in the side of the ice cream and decorated with a gold-dusted B. It was an excellent presentation and a sure sign that the staff were doing their best to please her. She appreciated the effort.
Dren’s eyes lit up. “That looks very good.”
His dish held twice as much and a cookie with his initial on it, something else Bea appreciated. Food would go a long way toward keeping him happy. She would have to try to get down to the kitchen and let them know their efforts had been noticed.
Dren went to work on his sundae right away. She took a few small bites. Too much and she wouldn’t fit into her new gowns. Or the wedding dress that Mistress Finefrock was working on. Which reminded Bea that she most likely needed to check on how that was coming along.
She was in no rush to get married, but that didn’t mean her dress couldn’t be completed. She sighed, thinking about how much remained to be done for the wedding in general. All of it uninteresting to her so long as her mother was unwell.
“Are you all right, darling Bea?”
She was fine, but she seized the opportunity. “Just thinking about my mother. I’m sorry, you must get tired of me saying that, but she is constantly on my mind.”
“As she should be. And I am not tired of your concern for her. Never. Do you need to visit her?”
Bea quickly nodded. “I do. But I can wait. I don’t want to leave you while you’re still eating.”
He pushed his dish away. “Please. Don’t keep yourself from her on my account. You’ve already given me so much of your time today. I am deeply grateful for that.”
He stood and offered her his hand. “I will see you tomorrow, I’m sure. Until then, be well.”
She took his hand, allowing him to help her up.
“You are very understanding.” Inside, she was thrilled, but she kept her solemn mask in place.
She pressed her lips to his cheek. “I have a few things I must attend to tomorrow, but I will send for you as soon as I am able. And thank you again for my ring. I love it.”
He bowed and she took her leave.
Krohl followed her, remarkably quiet for a being of his size. His footsteps barely seemed to register in the corridor behind her as she strode with haste toward her mother’s apartment. She would indeed visit her mother.
It wouldn’t do for Dren to discover that hadn’t been her destination after lunch. He might ask a footman. Or Wyett. Although Bea doubted Wyett would give him such information, even if he knew.
For all she knew, Krohl might report to Dren. She didn’t like that idea at all. Perhaps she would speak to Trog about that. If anyone could tell her the truth about such a thing, it was her mother’s guard. He was loyal above all else.
She saw him in the corridor ahead, standing in his usual place beside Anyka’s door. Krohl went before her as she slowed and reached for the door into Bea’s apartment.
“No, Krohl. I’m going to see my mother.”
He grunted and took up his spot across from Trog.
She went into Anyka’s apartment without knocking or waiting for Trog to open the door. She didn’t need help or permission. She was queen.
She came through the small foyer. Once again, the air seemed stale and close, and it carried the dankness of ill health. But also, something else. Like the smoke from a distant brush fire. Walking into the sitting room, she wrinkled her nose.
Wyett sat near the fireplace, half asleep. He blinked awake and stood as soon as he realized she was there. “Forgive me, my lady. The day has been long already.”
“There’s nothing to forgive, Councilor. How is she? And why does it reek so in here? Can’t a window be opened?”
“She is unchanged and that smell is from the Royal Seer. She is cleansing your mother’s room with burning herbs.”
Bea’s nose remained wrinkled. “I don’t see how that can be cleansing.”
Wyett gave an almost unnoticeable shake of his head. “It is not to my taste either, your highness.”
Zephynia came out of the bedroom. She bowed when she saw Beatryce. “The queen herself. How nice that you would come visit your lady mother.”
Bea couldn’t tell if Zephynia’s words were meant to be cutting or not, so she ignored them. She glanced at Wyett. “Some fresh air would do wonders.”
“As you wish, your highness.” He went to open some windows.
Zephynia eyed Bea’s bandaged hand. “I heard that you cut yourself on the blade that pierced her. How is the wound?”
“It is being looked after, thank you.” But Bea hadn’t examined it since Clary had wrapped it. To Bea, the injury hurt just as much. Frankly, she was a little afraid to look at the wound. Afraid that it would be worse.
Zephynia reached out. “Let me see it.”
From anyone else, such a command would have been completely improper, but Zephynia was a distant cousin. She’d taken liberties with Anyka, so Bea wasn’t surprised the old woman would do the same with her.
Reluctantly, Bea held out her hand.
Zephynia took it and hissed out a breath as soon as she touched Bea. “There is a shadow on your soul.”
“Yes,” Bea said quickly, snatching her hand back. “Because I am in pain. The wound hurts and because I must use my hand, it is slow to heal.”
Zephynia stared, her watery eyes narrowing. “That shadow has nothing to do with pain. Did your mother’s blood touch your flesh?”
Bea stared right back. “Of course her blood touched my flesh. I was trying to keep her alive.”
Zephynia shook her head. “Your mother had darkness within her just as your grandmother did, but your mother—”
“No,” Bea said, the voice inside her pushing her to be strong. “I will not stand here and listen to you disparage my mother while she lays suffering in the other room. You might have filled her ears with your visions, but you will not fill mine. I am done with you, cousin.”
With that, Bea stormed out.