Chapter 3 #2
By the head of the bed stood her mother’s consort, a man almost two decades younger than the queen.
The queen had married him a few years ago to form an alliance with the extremely rich Brandy family.
Although the maids claimed it wasn’t about the money but because of his looks.
Some considered him pretty. Avera thought Benoit a little too polished, as if he wore a veneer over his true self.
Several faces turned to look at Avera, Duke Petturi being the one with the largest scowl. “What are you doing here?”
A grim Gustav replied, “She’s here at the queen’s request, and I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that Avera is First Princess, which means you should be very careful how you speak to her.”
Avera had never been happier to have Gustav there to rebuke them, although if he weren’t she could have slipped away and not had to deal with what would surely be an unpleasant conversation.
The rook’s cold reprimand tightened the duke’s lips. “Ah yes, the new heir. How fortuitous that she was the only one not within the palace when the attacks happened. Why, one would almost wonder if the First Princess were aware of what would unfold.”
Avera’s jaw dropped. “I had no idea. The first I heard of it was in the market.”
“How lucky for you,” was the duke’s sour rejoinder.
“Is that Avera?” The faint query came from the bed which led to the doctors shushing her. “Keep still. Don’t talk. Preserve your strength.”
“Do not tell me what to do,” barked the queen.
“We are simply ensuring your healing, Your Majesty,” whined Longkin, a physician Avera never liked as he’d tried to get to her bathe in obnoxious concoctions as a teen in an attempt to lighten her skin tone.
“You all know I’m dying,” snapped the queen. “This wound isn’t one that any can recover from. Where is my daughter? I need to speak to her.”
Bodies parted, giving Avera room to approach, yet her steps lagged. The queen had always been a cold and formidable figure, one more prone to criticism than praise.
Avera stepped close to the bedside and clasped her hands. “Your Majesty.” She executed a curtsy and the queen snorted.
“That will be the last time you do that. It seems the assassins were thorough. You are the only heir left of my bloodline. When I die—”
Murmurs arose and the queen snapped, “Quiet. I am trying to give final words of wisdom to my daughter. Your soon-to-be queen.”
Not a prospect they looked forward to, given the side eyes and twisted lips.
Avera murmured, “Perhaps the doctors can—”
“Do nothing,” the queen harshly interjected. “A bowel wound is a death sentence, and I don’t have time to argue it. You are now First Princess, my heir, and ill-prepared for what is to come next. There are things you must know if you are to rule.”
“How can I rule when I have no lessons in leading?” Given how far down the line of succession Avera fell, no one ever bothered.
She’d instead been taught history, geography, mathematics, as well as music, which she did poorly at, and art, also an abject failure.
Her gifts lay in knowledge of trinkets that served little use, and her skill with a blade.
“Your daughter isn’t ready,” Duke Petturi interjected. He acted as Mother’s second and ensured her orders were carried out.
“Then you’ll teach her,” hissed the queen.
“Get out. All of you, so I might speak to her alone.” When they hesitated, she tried to rise which led to Gustav ushering out the doctors and the duke.
Only Benoit, her consort, remained, but the queen eyed him and uttered a frosty, “That means you too. What I have to say is for the future queen alone.”
“But my love, you heard her. She’s not ready. Perhaps I can guide her.”
“Not bloody likely. Your role as consort ends with my death and given it’s imminent, you might as well start packing.”
Avera had never heard her mother speak so harshly to Benoit. Usually, she had smiles and even giggles for the man she’d taken as consort.
A stiff Benoit marched out of the room and Avera wished she could leave too.
The queen reached for her hand, her flesh cold and clammy as she clasped Avera tight. “Listen to me and listen close. We have little time, and so much I have to tell you. My own fault. I relied on the wrong people.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Suffice it to say, I was betrayed by those I trusted. Blind to the machinations happening in my own country. The greed masked as loyalty.”
“Wait, are you saying we have a traitor?” The thought baffled given their country enjoyed great prosperity. While not the greatest mother, the queen ruled efficiently and fairly. “Surely the blame lies with an outsider.”
“It’s possible a foreign influence aided, however, this attack couldn’t have happened without inside help. There is a traitor, and one close to the palace. Your first task as queen will be to rout them.”
“How, if I can trust no one?” Avera asked rather than insult her mother with claims she’d survive. She could see, and smell, the gravity of the injury.
“Who brought you here?” Mother asked.
“The Grand Rook. He fought off the assassins as we approached the castle. If not for him, I’d be dead.” A realization that hadn’t set in until now. Avera slumped to sit on the side of the bed.
“Gustav has always been loyal to the crown. Keep him with you at all times. I fear the traitor might not be done.”
“You think there’s more assassins?”
“I’d say it’s possible. Whoever planned this meant for the entire Voxspira royal line to die.
Without a clear heir, the Lords and Ladies will squabble about who should sit on the throne.
Those who fight hardest for it being the most unfit.
” The queen’s lips turned down. “Those who crave power often do so to advance their own selfish needs with no care for others.”
“Seems like an oxymoron.”
The queen snorted. “It is because those best suited will be the least likely to attempt to take control. Now on to other matters, as my time grows short. Within my office, inside the desk, which you can open with this,”—the queen pulled out a heavy chain that held both the stamp she used for decrees as well as an ornate key—“you’ll find ledgers of everything that happened under my rule.
You’ll want to study them to see how I’ve handled situations.
They’ll be a good guide, but at the same time, don’t be afraid to forge your own path.
You’re a smart girl. Use that intelligence to rule fairly. ”
The compliment surprised. “How would you know what kind of scholar I was?”
“I paid more attention to your studies than you realized.”
“Why?” Avera blurted.
“Because you are special. From a young age, it was clear you saw the world on a different level than most. You seek knowledge, have a curiosity to understand.”
Since it seemed the moment for frankness, Avera murmured, “I’m surprised you noticed.”
“I saw more than I let on, and I am sorry I couldn’t acknowledge your accomplishments, but I had my reasons.” Reasons which the queen didn’t elaborate on, but Avera could guess.
Aldrich had hated it when Avera received any kind of praise or attention.
He used to play horrid pranks on her, some that intentionally caused harm, until Gustav caught him one day trying to force her to drink water from the poisonous lake.
She still remembered the thrashing her brother received, and while Aldrich screamed that Gustav would hang for laying a hand on him, nothing ever happened to Gustav.
At least after that incident, Aldrich left her mostly alone.
“I don’t want to be queen.” The very idea made Avera feel ill to her stomach.
“You don’t have a choice,” came the harsh reply. “The people will need you to lead them.”
“The people barely acknowledge my existence.”
“It won’t be easy, which is why you won’t want to wait too long to choose a consort. The sooner you produce an heir, the better.”
“Marry?” The thought had never even crossed her mind. Avera tended not to pay much mind to men, not since she came to understand that most only wanted to bed the queen’s daughter in hopes of gaining special privileges.
“You need a partner. Someone strong but willing to stand in the background. Seek out one with good family connections. Admiral Venne has a son that might suit. As does Lady Yellowbottom.”
She knew the men mother spoke of, both spoiled and in their thirties, one of whom used to tease her and call her the bastard changeling. “I’ll do my best to find someone suitable,” Avera mumbled.
“I know this is a lot to take in, however, it will be necessary if you’re to hold on to the throne.”
“A throne I never wanted,” she reiterated.
“I know, and that’s why you’ll make a good queen.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Oh, stop with that nonsense. I’m your mother.”
“Since when?” Avera objected. “We’ve only barely spoken. You spend more time with your dogs than me.”
“I’m aware I wasn’t the mother you deserved but that was on purpose. The distance between us was a ruse to ensure none knew how I favored you.”
Avera blinked. “Favored me how?”
“By not killing you, for one. From your birth, once your appearance was noted, I had some that urged me to rid myself of you. Many considered you a bad omen.”
“They wanted to kill a baby?” The shock emerged in her reply.
“They thought you unnecessary, given the three other children I bore. They worried about your parentage. I made it clear you weren’t going anywhere.”
Given Avera might never get another chance, she had to ask. “Who was my father?”
The queen’s lips curved softly. “A stupendous man that I met by chance. We had a torrid affair before he had to leave.”
“To go where?”
“Back to his home. We only spent a short time together before he departed, never knowing you existed.”
“Did you try and contact him?”
Her lips turned down. “I did, but he never replied.”
“What’s his name?”
“Basil. But you’ll never find him. He was from Verlora.”