Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
WENDY
I’ve been to the high chamber twice before today but both times I was visiting Roc with James by my side and it was never under official business.
Today I’m to act in the capacity of the future Queen of Darkland.
It is both familiar and foreign. Familiar because I know what it is to be queen to a powerful man. Foreign because this time around, I have chosen the role instead of being forced into it.
The stakes are much higher. Which is absolutely wild considering in Everland, my life was always on the line.
Now it’s not my life on the line, but Roc’s reputation, and mine.
Ruling Darkland is our future and I want it to be done well and right.
But James’s words at breakfast are running through my mind and I can’t seem to focus.
I almost feel bad for him. He was clearly trying to protect me, but he went about it all wrong, robbing me of my free will to decide what I want and how I want it. I don’t need his protection.
Our carriage pulls through the gate at the back of the High Chamber building.
There’s a row of guards stationed along the winding cobblestone drive, all of them dressed in Darkland black.
I turn to Roc who sits beside me on the leather bench seat. His gaze is trained out the window, his fingers pressed against his full lips. He’s been deep in thought since we left Maddred Manor.
“Roc.”
“Hmm?”
“What’s going on with James? Has he said anything to you? Do you think he’s bothered by you proposing to me first?”
He turns to me. I try not to squirm beneath his gaze, but the plug makes it doubly hard to sit still.
“Our Captain is having a hard time adjusting, I suspect, and he’s just looking for things to handle.”
“I thought he was fitting in at the Portage Hall?”
“The minister is trying to undermine him.”
Oh. I didn’t know. James hasn’t said anything about it. But in any case… “Isn’t the minister the one in charge?”
“Yes. For now.”
I don’t get the chance to ask him what that means because the carriage comes to a halting stop and the door is pulled open by one of the attendants at the king’s private entrance.
Roc’s assistant, Tyrin, is immediately by his side, rattling off a list of priorities.
Tyrin is in his late twenties with a shock of black hair and gold-framed round spectacles that he occasionally has to push back on the bridge of his nose.
There’s a gold stud in his left ear to match the glasses and a gold chain around his neck.
Whatever hangs on the end is always hidden beneath his clothing, but from the outline of the pendant, I’d guess it was a skull and crossbones—the symbol of the Bone Society.
I haven’t asked yet if Tyrin is a Jabberwocky or a functionary member of the secret society that Roc’s family founded.
Tyrin does keep a close eye on the time, but he’s the assistant to the future king of Darkland. If he doesn’t keep time, who will?
“Your meeting with the Council was scheduled to begin ten minutes ago,” Tyrin says. “But I’ve held them in chamber waiting for your arrival.”
“Is the daquis here?”
“Yes, she’s in the outer chamber with Councilmember Gorson until we’re ready for her.”
“Lovely.”
The daquis is the head of all the orphanages in Darkland.
From what I’ve been told, she’s been in charge for over a decade and, unlike her predecessor, has actually made a difference.
But Darkland is still short on beds. Building space for orphans was one of my tasks in Everland, but I was constantly fighting Hally, the Crowned Prince, for funding.
He saw no use for it. “Put them to work on the farms so they can learn the lesson of hard work,” he’d told me one day. “Children work faster anyway.”
I wanted to punch him in his dumb fucking face after he said that, but because I was always running from something in Everland, I tended to keep my mouth shut and not rock the boat.
Quietly, with the help of a few sympathetic baronesses, we were able to pool some funding together and build a modest twenty-five-bed orphanage on the outskirts of South Avis, the capital of Everland, in a place Hally would never bother to fuss over.
It’s still one of the things I’m most proud of having built while wearing the Everland crown.
To have the chance to use that experience here on Darkland would be an absolute joy.
Not only because I learned a lot the first time around, but because I won’t have to fight a spoiled prince for funding.
Roc will give me whatever I ask for. I’m sure of it.
Those kids are getting fleece blankets and feather pillows if I have any say about it.
The building that houses the High Chamber’s offices is situated in the center of Wicking Hill. The Hill is where all of Darkland’s important offices and functionaries are located, in a long, narrow strip of land that runs north and south.
While I love all of Darkland’s architecture (it’s certainly more ornate and beautiful than Everland’s plain stone and timber), I think the High Chamber building is my favorite.
The front facade features four huge marble columns that hold up a pediment with relief carvings of snakes intertwined in human skeletons.
Snakes and skulls, as Asha informed me, are important symbols in Darkland history and culture, so they continue throughout all of the administrative buildings with skulls carved into the doorknobs and snakes featured in several stained-glass transom windows over the interior doorways.
As Roc makes his way across the main gallery to the council chamber, people slowly gravitate toward him.
There are other lower-level members of his council, several pages with urgent letters, a few onlookers who just want to be near him, and a handful of Darklanders hoping for an audience.
I understand that draw better than anyone.
I hang back, letting him take center stage.
Even as Queen of Everland, I tended to slink into the shadows, out of the spotlight. I don’t like people looking at me too closely.
When we reach the other side of the gallery, Roc pauses and turns around.
The crowd he’s accumulated stops with him.
“Wendy, Darling,” he calls and holds out his hand for me.
The crowd pulls back, giving me room.
I swallow, suddenly feeling like it must be obvious I’m wearing a plug even though there’s no way anyone could possibly know.
I step forward into the center of the crowd and Roc takes my hand. He bends down and puts his mouth to my ear, whispering so only I can hear. “As my future queen, you are to be by my side, hmm?”
My body fills with heat at the promise of what’s to come, and the thread of authority that rings out in his voice.
“Of course.”
We start walking again. The crowd picks up, matching our pace as we leave the gallery behind.
Inside the High Chamber, I’m given the chair on Roc’s left, signifying a position of importance. No one argues.
His council is comprised of seven members, four of them being women. In Everland, the entire council was made up of white men, and half of them got their positions because they had been born to the right family or inherited the right amount of money.
When I mentioned looking further outside of his personal circle for councilmembers to help diversify, King Hald told me he would consider my concerns and bring them up at the next council meeting. But it never changed. In fact, it only got worse once Hald slipped into a coma and Hally took over.
Two members of Roc’s council were grandfathered in from the previous council—the Portage Minister, Yal Mertz, and Isle Minister, Sun Yun.
The rest were appointed personally by Roc—Minister of the Interior, Ulonda Uzo; Merchant Minister, Kahl Evvie II; Agriculture Minister, Penny Sorren; Minister of War, Rebba Rohl; and Treasure Minister, Gregor Anson.
I haven’t worked with them in any official capacity, but if I had to guess, based on how Roc speaks about them and having read up on some of their work, Ulonda is the smartest, Rebba is the most badass, and Kahl worked his way up from nothing.
I can’t imagine a better council.
Roc could continue his life of luxury and leisure and hand over the hard work of running a country to anyone who wanted the power and the prestige, but seeing the council he’s put together, I know he means to do it right.
The meeting is opened with a few line items about an upcoming parade, the coronation, and repairs to the Treasury Building.
The daquis is brought into the meeting after that and the council discusses possible land to build not one, but two buildings for children in need.
Because the interior is under Ulonda’s purview, we make plans for later on to tour a few possible locations, though the entire council is in agreement that the land located in the rolling hills to the west of the city would be the best.
The daquis takes down my contact information and promises to schedule a personal meeting with me soon.
After the daquis leaves, Yal Mertz pivots to portage.
“We’ve been having trouble again with the Gutter Snakes importing stolen goods. A ship slipped through three nights ago and I anticipate another tomorrow night.”
“That’s unfortunate.” Roc lights a cigarette and leans back in his chair. “How much are they paying you?”
Yal’s face goes red. “I beg your pardon!”
“Your Grace.”
“What?”
“It’s, ‘I beg your pardon, Your Grace,’” Roc corrects.
Yal pushes his chair back. “If they were paying me, would I have brought it up to you?”
“Yes.” Roc takes a hit and when the smoke comes back out, it curls up to his nose where he sucks it back in. “Because, and correct me if I’m wrong, you heard I have a spy in the Gutter Snakes so you thought you’d get ahead of it.”
Yal’s nostrils flare. “Just tell me what you’d like me to do, Your Grace.”
“Deny them port of entry.”
“They’ll retaliate.”
“They’re the fucking Gutter Snakes, Mertz. They are the least sophisticated gang in all of the Umbrage.”
“Very well.” Yal takes a breath. “If that’s all?”
“Not quite.” Roc takes another pull on his cigarette. “When do you leave for the next export?”
“I…you—”
“I’ll tell you,” Roc says. “Tonight. Sail thee well, Mertz.”
The Portage Minister shoves his chair into the table and storms from the room.
“That will come back to bite you,” Ulonda says.
“Nah.” Roc stubs out his cigarette in a nearby tray. “He’ll be dead within a week.”
If anyone is shocked by this, they don’t betray it.
The council wraps up a few additional items before dispersing.
When we’re alone, Roc turns to me. “I liked having you by my side.”
I snort. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not.”
“I barely spoke.”
“But when you did, it was with authority.”
“I—”
“Take the admiration, Wendy,” he orders.
“Okay. Thank you.”
He gets up and comes around to kiss me on the cheek. “You will be a radiant queen. Darkland won’t know what to do with you.”
I lean into him as his fingers trail from my jawline down my throat. “What about James?”
“I have plans for him too. If he’ll stop fighting me.”
I huff out a laugh. “I doubt he ever will.”
“He will if he knows what’s good for him.”
Roc steps away and I jolt to the side, immediately feeling his absence. He goes to the three arched windows at the front of the chamber room that overlook the boulevard that spills into the High Chamber gardens. With his back to me, he says, “You don’t have to be our whore if you don’t want to be.”
I leave the table and come up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. His stomach is firm beneath my clasped hands, his abs rippled like the cobblestones below.
I won’t tell him I’d do anything for him. He doesn’t want a sycophant. If I kowtow to him then I am just like everyone else in his orbit.
“I spent the better half of my life pretending to be a good girl. I don’t want to pretend any longer.”
He glances at me over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Don’t tempt me, Wendy Darling. I will have you sinning for me by moonrise.”
I laugh. “Perhaps you are tempting me.”
He hooks his arm around me, coaxing me forward into his side. I love being in his embrace. The thrill of standing beside him has yet to wear off and I hope it never does.
“I guess I just have to reassure James that I want to be corrupted.”
Roc chuckles and twirls his finger in my hair. “If we team up, I’m sure we can convince him.”
I nod into him. “We’re clever enough to come up with some ideas.”
He tightens his grip, taking a handful of my hair and yanking my head back, exposing my throat. He leaves a trail of kisses up and up before coming to my mouth. “I will look forward to it.”