Chapter Four Knife at the Throat #2
Then came two women, arms woven through each other’s.
The brown-skinned woman in the tiered blue gown was Ariana, the queen’s lady-in-waiting and childhood friend.
She had dark lips, expressive eyes, and a thick black braid.
She said something to the Caucasian woman that made her smile, both of them looking at me.
That must be the queen’s sister, Issa. She had the same blanched blond hair.
Though often out of sorts with the queen herself—they were both strong personalities—Issa remained a close confidante at turns throughout the story.
Remnants of book five ran through my head and all the forums I’d read over the years.
Readers wanted to see more of these two, and especially for them to get a satisfying ending, rather than be shunted aside as the ghostwriter had done.
I’d have to consider their own character timelines—I knew a big change was coming for Issa, but I wasn’t exactly sure when.
If I could get Ariana and Issa to like me, that would make influencing events much easier. I’d have some political protection too.
As soon as the thought came, I knew it was silly. If I couldn’t make friends in the real world, why would a queen’s closest confidantes want to help me here?
No, Sorrel wouldn’t want me to get stuck in that kind of thinking. I was assistant—no, apprentice, I suddenly decided—to the Witch of Mayfair. If I kept it up, everyone around court would be pulling strings for me.
My eyes widened at the last in the procession.
It was the Solicitor, Ironclaw’s own cousin.
I was eager enough to see him—he might know when Ironclaw would arrive at Castle Creneda—but the moment I saw the Solicitor, I realized how measured my expectation had been.
The books often described the Solicitor as slight and weak of frame.
I wondered why Sherry Whitehorse had done him dirty in the descriptions.
Were the books the real thing, or was I seeing the real thing now?
Either way, the Solicitor was much better-looking than the books had led me to believe.
I felt his eyes move over my form, taking in every detail as I did the same.
He didn’t have the physical strength of Ironclaw, that was clear, but he was also tall with the same long dark hair.
His chin was slightly pointed and his cheekbones were high, giving him a haughty look.
He wore a trim gray robe and a belt held a black sash in place.
It was simple but made with excellent material.
As the book’s only gay man, perhaps Whitehorse hadn’t thought her female readers would want the details.
Still, his political role was significant.
He was always quick to speak with the queen’s allies and had more than enough enemies.
The Solicitor was always looking for flaws, weaknesses in others that could be exploited.
I squared my shoulders.
Was that a smile? Was he laughing at me?
Then he was a step ahead and I couldn’t make out his face any longer. The Solicitor was a sidekick of sorts to Ironclaw but for all his involvement in the court, he had little face time with the queen. I had better focus my efforts on Ariana and Issa.
Jerrald hissed at me, “Follow them.”
He was really tense about all this pomp and circumstance, but indeed, the rest of the crowd was watching me. I turned on one bootheel and followed quickly to cover my mistake. Too quickly. I bumped into the Solicitor.
He caught me by an elbow. “Well,” he said, “I was going to introduce myself soon enough but this will do. Where were those exquisite handkerchiefs from?”
“Oh, those?” I fought to keep my face still. “My aunt made them.”
“They look almost like varench lace from the Solce Lakes region.”
Okay, go with it. I had to appear as if I had nothing to hide. “Yes, that’s where my aunt lives.”
The Solicitor looked taken aback. “You grew up across the Seas of Melancholy and yet your aunt lives near the Solce Lakes?”
Drat. “Yes, um, fabulous love story.” There was nothing in the books about the Solce Lakes region, I was sure of it. “I never met my aunt. The Witch of Mayfair sent her to the Solce Lakes four years before I was born. Said she’d find the love of her life there.”
“How extraordinary,” he said carefully. The entire procession was winding down a stone hallway, a large painting of dogs hunting a stag on my right.
Conversation hung thick among the hungry crowd, the hall noisy enough the Solicitor had to raise his voice.
“And did you ever learn how this grand love story ended?”
I felt his skepticism and made sure he saw me raise my brows. “Why no, news from across the Seas of Melancholy would have been exceptional.” I was pretty sure he knew I was lying, but who could prove or disprove that?
“While you’re here advising our queen, you must make a visit to the Solce Lakes to find your aunt.”
The Solicitor’s eyes were green. I knew because I was staring like a mouse tranced by a snake. I shivered and looked away.
I muttered something noncommittal as we entered a room that was at least ten degrees warmer. I realized with surprise I was chilled through, the constant rush of adrenaline that afternoon taking its toll on me.
The space was expansive with long tables and benches arranged perpendicular to a head table at the back. Fireplaces dotted the walls and the rafters were black with years of soot. I looked for Jerrald but couldn’t find him among the crowd filtering in behind us.
“Lord Solicitor,” I whispered, “do you know where I sit?”
His olive eyes blinked, then he barked a laugh. “Lord Solicitor—I like that. Most people simply call me Lord Draw. Can I ask, how did you know I was a solicitor?”
“Someone mentioned it. Jerry, I think. Jerrald. The soldier who brought me in.”
Lord Draw fell quiet, and I looked around uneasily. Mostly everyone was settled except the people in plain clothes just coming through the door. “You can sit with me. Over here.”
I knew then I had made a grave mistake. I should have picked a dullard like Lord Parable.
Then I could let him talk while I recovered myself.
Instead, all I could do was follow him to a table close to one of the fireplaces, two away from the head table.
Lord Draw signaled me to the far side of the table and we stood, waiting.
The heat of the fire felt good on the half of my backside it reached.
Everyone remained standing while the queen lifted her golden chalice. A large blue rock to match her necklace sparkled on the front of it. I hoisted my own cup, surprised to find it already half-full.
“A toast to our new friend, Lady Dottie of Mayfair. May your advice be true and your seer be...reliable.” She gave a tinkle of laughter—she was the only one—before everyone took a long drink.
It was wine, bitter and dark; nothing like what my parents poured for me and Fern on New Year’s Eve. I swallowed quickly and tried not to look as if anything was amiss.
Then the smell of roasted meat hit my nose. Servants entered through a smaller set of doors, carrying full platters. That seemed to signal to everyone they could sit. Lord Draw and I sat side by side on one bench, the fire to our backs. Chatter started up again in the expansive dining hall.
A girl—maybe early high school if we had been back home—set a platter in the center of the table.
“Thanks a bunch,” I told her. Both the girl and Lord Draw looked at me, surprised.
I avoided their eye contact by checking once more for Jerrald, but he was nowhere to be found.
I would have liked to thank him, and he was more familiar at this point than Lord Draw—I couldn’t believe I called him “Lord Solicitor.”
Lord Draw nudged the platter nearer. “A slice of beef?”
“Oh yes.” I took two slices and piled my plate full of mashed turnips, a mess of greens and sprouts dressed in sweet glaze, and slices of hearty bread, then ate ravenously.
It was simple food, with little spice, but well cooked.
God, that tastes good. When did I last eat?
Apple slices and peanut butter that morning?
I couldn’t stop, nearly filling my mouth again before I swallowed. I took another sip of the sour wine.
Lord Draw plopped seconds on my plate before I could ask. It was only in the second round that I slowed enough to look around. Still no Jerrald. Other tables had similar platters of meat and bowls of salad and turnips, but at the head table, Ariana was tipping an oyster into the queen’s mouth.
I took a shallow drink of wine and realized the sour flavor was starting to fade.
“You do realize the danger you’re in, don’t you?”
I turned too quickly and found only Lord Draw’s olive eyes. No one had sat across from us, and I felt suddenly alone with him despite the crowded hall. I was instantly on guard. “What do you mean? I’m here to help Queen Elthra.”
“You’re lying. And doing it badly.”
I raised a brow as if I was insulted but didn’t reply, only filled my mouth with another bite of roasted meat and chewed it thoughtfully. Lord Draw ate as well. He didn’t seem to expect an answer, didn’t even seem to think it was a problem I was lying, only that I should be better at it.
He wouldn’t say that if he knew who he was sitting next to.
I thought I was doing quite well actually.
I was a visitor from another world, already accepted.
Plus, I’d established where and when I was in book five.
The moment I had time with my quill, I could sketch out all the scenes to come and what I needed to change.
The problem so far was I’d been in motion since I’d arrived.
Perhaps I should have come up with a simpler backstory, but I still thought I could slide effortlessly into life at the castle, slowly win people over.
I knew advanced statistics for goodness’ sake.
It couldn’t be that hard to impress undereducated folk who thought horseback riding was the new big thing.
I looked at the queen again. The greatest threat of downfall would be if the queen never came to trust me.
She was suspicious and the queen didn’t know me from the Dark Mage.
The thought made me shiver despite the fire’s blaze.
What Queen Elthra had said earlier was true—you didn’t want to be on her bad side.
Just then, the doors of the hall boomed open. I spun in alarm, terrified to find the deadly Lionsgate horde pour through. Instead, it was a man with ink black hair, wide shoulders, and daggers at his side.
Ironclaw at last!