Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Queen Eudora
Eudora stood at the window of her private solar, staring beyond the walls of Dunsire toward the distant hills.
Where were they? Three days had passed since she'd stood alone in the forest and spoken the words her grandmother had taught her.
War that conquers.
Thunder that roars.
The final strike when kingdoms fall.
Three legendary warriors summoned to protect Morra Mist in its time of need, if they truly existed.
Eudora pressed her hand against the cool stone surrounding the window, hearing her grandmother’s voice as if she were there with her.
They will hear you, Eudora. But once you summon them, breathe not a word of what you have done. Not to your council. Not to your commander. Not even to the person you trust above all others. Some secrets survive only because they are kept.
At twelve years old, Eudora hadn't understood why her grandmother's warning had been so severe.
She understood now… someone wanted her throne.
Of that Eudora had no doubt.
Her council knew of the whispers spreading through Morra Mist, the questions being raised about her right to rule and the growing unrest among some of her people.
What they didn't know was that Eudora had learned far more than she'd shared with them.
Agnes had seen to that.
The healer had been a trusted friend of her grandmother's for many years and traveled extensively throughout Morra Mist and occasionally beyond its shores.
Eudora had known her since she was young and shared Agnes's fascination with healing plants, often eager to hear of some new use she'd discovered or an unfamiliar plant she'd encountered in her travels.
So, no one thought it unusual when Agnes visited the castle from time to time. She and Eudora would spend hours discussing plants, remedies and whatever Agnes had learned since they'd last seen each other.
But healing wasn't all Agnes learned in her travels. People talked freely around a healer. They spoke of their troubles, their fears and the things they'd heard from others. Agnes listened.
Queen Eleanor had taught Eudora long ago that Agnes sometimes returned with information far more valuable to a queen than any healing plant she carried in her satchel.
A queen who hears only what her council tells her hears only what others wish her to know.
Eudora understood the wisdom of those words even more after taking the throne.
Agnes's most recent visit had troubled her.
There were names now. People whose existence could threaten Eudora's hold on the crown and perhaps Morra Mist itself.
She had told no one, not Wilford, not the commander of her warriors, and not a single member of her council.
Until she knew who she could trust, Agnes and everything she'd learned from her would remain Eudora's secret. Just like the three men she'd summoned.
Still, she had expected the three Lords to have arrived by now.
Her gaze traveled over the rooftops of Dunsire and to the road that disappeared beyond the town.
What if they had heard her and chosen not to answer? What if centuries of tales had become little more than tales passed down through generations. Or worse, what if she'd done something wrong when she summoned them?
“You’ve kept the council waiting long enough.”
Eudora turned from the window.
Wilford, her advisor, stood beside the table, several parchments tucked beneath one arm.
He was a lean man, his neatly trimmed brown hair showing gray at the temples, his blue eyes sharp and attentive.
His dark wool tunic was finely made but simply cut, suitable for a man who had spent many years in service to the crown.
“I was not aware I asked your opinion.”
“You rarely do, but it has never stopped me from giving it.”
A faint smile tugged at Eudora's lips. “And I suppose the council sent you to fetch me.”
“Nay. They have more sense.”
That earned him a look.
“Most of them, anyway,” he said, his tone serious.
He had served her grandmother before serving her and had known Eudora since she was a young lass. Few people could read her moods as easily.
That once had comforted her., but these days it made her cautious.
“They grow impatient.”
“Then waiting will do them good.”
A faint smile touched Wilford's face. “Your grandmother used to say the same thing.”
Eudora stopped. For the briefest moment, she heard Eleanor's warning again.
Not even to the person you trust above all others.
“Did she?”
Wilford seemed not to notice the change in her tone.
“Often.”
Eudora walked toward the door. “Then for once, I shall follow her excellent example.”
Wilford stepped aside to let her pass.
Eudora didn't look back at the window. But the question followed her from the room.
Where were they?
The council members were already seated when Eudora entered the chamber.
They rose as one. “Your Majesty.”
Eudora acknowledged them with a slight nod before taking her place at the head of the long table. “Sit.”
Wilford took his usual chair to her right while Commander Bradan remained standing at the opposite end of the table.
He was a large man with iron-gray hair and the solid build of a warrior who had spent most of his life carrying a sword.
Eudora had known him nearly as long as she'd known Wilford, though Bradan had always been far less inclined to offer an opinion unless asked for one.
The grim set of his face told her she wouldn't need to ask today.
“What happened?” Eudora asked.
Bradan glanced around the table before answering. “Two more villages are refusing to send men for the autumn training.”
Eudora frowned. Every village in Morra Mist was expected to provide able men for regular training so they could be called upon if the kingdom was threatened. Few enjoyed leaving their farms and families to do it, but outright refusal was another matter.
“Which villages?”
“Brennoch and Ardley.”
She knew both. Neither had ever given the crown trouble.
“Did they give a reason—”
Lord—Eudora caught herself before the thought could finish. There were no lords seated around her table, only the men she'd chosen or inherited to advise the crown.
Bradan answered. “They say they see no reason to provide warriors to a queen who may have no right to command them.”
The room went still.
Eudora felt anger stir but gave no outward sign of it. “Who told them I have no right to command them?”
“No one will say,” Bradan said.
Wilford looked to the queen. “Because they don't know.”
Bradan suggested another possibility. “Or because they won't tell us.”
A councilman farther down the table leaned forward. “Then send soldiers into both villages and bring the men responsible here. A few days in the castle cells might loosen their tongues.”
“I will permit no such thing,” Eudora ordered.
“They are refusing a command from the crown,” the council member argued.
“I will deal with that refusal, but I will not fill my cells with men because they repeated something someone whispered in their ears.”
The council member continued to disagree. “They are questioning your right to the throne.”
“All the more reason not to behave like a woman terrified someone might believe them,” Eudora said, with a raised and distinctly firm tone.
The councilman sat back.
Wilford spoke up. “Your grandmother would have had the men responsible brought here first and decided what to do with them afterward.”
“That sounds more like her but… I am not my grandmother,” she said sternly.
Wilford bowed his head respectfully.
Eudora looked at Bradan. “You said two more villages. How many altogether?”
“Five.”
Five. Three days ago, there had been only one. The rumors were no longer simply spreading. They were taking hold.
“What else has been heard?” Eudora asked, though a firm command remained in her tone.
One of her advisers cleared his throat. “A merchant caravan arriving from the northern road yesterday reported hearing the same questions in two villages beyond our border.”
Eudora's eyes narrowed. “Outside Morra Mist?”
“Aye.”
That troubled her more than she cared to admit. Discontent within her kingdom was dangerous enough. If neighboring lands began questioning the stability of her crown, ambitious men might start wondering whether Morra Mist was vulnerable.
And Morra Mist had much that ambitious men would want.
“Have you discovered where the rumors began?” Eudora asked.
Bradan shook his head. “Not yet.”
Eudora kept her disappointment from showing.
Agnes had followed the whispers farther than any of the men sitting around this table, but even she had been unable to discover who had first set them loose.
More troubling were the names Agnes had begun to hear attached to those whispers.
Names that Eudora had no intention of sharing with anyone in this room. At least not yet.
Eudora looked from one face to another. “No one? Not one of you can tell me how this rumor got started?”
Braden defended the council. “It is not for lack of searching, your majesty.”
“It has been weeks,” she reminded firmly.
“And whoever is behind this is covering his tracks well,” Bradan said.
“Uncover them,” she commanded.
Bradan paused to take a breath, then nodded. “Aye, Your Majesty.”
Wilford leaned back in his chair. “You're assuming there is someone behind it.”
Eudora turned to him. “You don't?”
“I think there probably is. But we shouldn't ignore the possibility that one foolish remark found fertile ground and grew without anyone tending it.”
Eudora disagreed. “Five villages refusing men for training isn't a foolish remark.”
“Nay. But neither is it rebellion.”
“Not yet,” Bradan said.
Wilford's gaze shifted to him.
That single word settled heavily over the table.
Eudora rose.
The others immediately followed.
Eudora’s chin went up just a bit. “I will not give whoever started this the one thing they clearly want.”
“And what is that?” Bradan asked.
“For me to appear afraid and act foolish.” She looked around the table. “Training will continue. Taxes will be collected. Trade will continue through our ports, and every person who comes before me will see the same queen sitting on the throne who was sitting there before these whispers began.”
Wilford studied her. “And while you're sitting there?”
“The search for this culprit will continue in earnest, and I will have answers.” Eudora met the eyes of every council member there. “Do not fail me.”
She headed for the door.
Wilford fell into step beside her. “You still have petitions to hear.”
“I know.”
“There are quite a few.”
Eudora stopped and looked at him. “How many?”
Wilford's expression was entirely too innocent. “Quite a few.”
Eudora sighed and continued walking. Perhaps waiting for three legendary warriors wasn't going to be the most trying part of her day after all.