Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Despite not having encountered any snakes, assassins, or bombs since the duke’s death, Avera couldn’t shake a niggling sense that the elder Petturi hadn’t been working alone.
Attempts to discover co-conspirators failed despite how many times she pored through the missives that his son had discovered, seeking any clues as to Petturi’s final goal or a hint that might lead to others.
The messages only spoke in the singular: i.e. the duke machinated on his own.
It didn’t help that Gustav fed her paranoia by sticking close, and when he couldn’t be by her side a pair of rooks shadowed her movement. While they didn’t hover over her while she worked in the office, they did insist on going in first and checking every corner, even behind the drapes.
At least they weren’t slapping food out of her hand.
All meals were currently being served buffet style, meaning she could eat like a normal person unless it arrived on a tray to her quarters.
Then she had to wait while someone took a bite and sip of everything.
If they didn’t keel over, then she could indulge.
It wasn’t a way to live and yet she didn’t rebuke for she understood this was how Gustav dealt with his grief and the sense he’d failed Queen Calixte.
She could only hope he eventually relaxed and realized no one could have predicted such a coordinated massacre.
Just like she prayed she’d eventually get over her own fear.
It would help if the nightmares didn’t visit every night.
She woke from her latest, shivering under the covers. While she didn’t remember the content of her dream, it left her with a sense of dread, as if warning her the worst was yet to come.
Discomfited by her own tumultuous emotions, Avera chose to not hold an audience after the morning meal, but rather went to her mother’s bedroom, a space she’d not visited since her death.
As promised, the room had been stripped of personal effects.
The bedding was a completely different fabric and color than before, matching the new tapestries hanging on the walls.
The furniture was even slightly rearranged.
The secret doorway to the inner passages had a massive armoire sitting across it and it made her think of something her mother had said before her death, about how they had similar interests.
Opening the cabinet, she shouldn’t have been surprised to find it empty. What had happened to her mother’s effects?
The rooks standing in the hall by the open bedroom door stiffened to attention when she popped out to ask, “I want to know what happened to my mother’s personal items.”
“We don’t know, Majesty,” answered Levitt who bore a grand mustache that curled at the ends.
“Find out,” she ordered.
The rooks eyed each other before Morris, the second rook, replied, “We’re not supposed to leave your presence, Majesty.”
Her lips pursed. “Surely one of you can trot off and ask.”
“Our orders are clear. We are not to leave our post.”
Their post being the glue that stuck to her. She sighed. “Very well, I’ll find out myself.”
She tracked down Dame Tauteapron, the woman in charge of maintaining the royal suites. She commanded a team of maids who kept everything dust-free and clean.
“Dame Tauteapron,” Avera called out, seeing her at the far end of the hall giving instructions to a pair of young maids.
“Majesty.” Dame and her underlings dipped into a deep curtsy. “How can I assist you?”
“My mother’s things, do you know where they were taken?”
“Do you mean her clothing or personal effects?”
“Personal effects. She’d mentioned something about objects in a cabinet?”
“Ah, her majesty’s collection of curios.” Dame Tauteapron nodded. “We had those crated and put in storage.”
“May I see them?”
“Of course. I’ll have them brought at once. Where would you like them?”
In short order the crates, three in total, crowded the open space of her office.
Avera lifted the lid on the first and saw mounds of straw to cushion the items within.
She pulled out a clock, the face of it round with the hands that pointed to notches to indicate the passing of time.
She’d never understood the need for one since looking outside could do the same thing.
Sun overhead? Noon. Dark? Night. However, despite not seeing the practical use, she did enjoy taking clocks apart to see how they worked.
She dug deeper and pulled forth other intriguing pieces. Some she recognized, like the abacus for doing sums. She marveled at a kitchen tool that had a handle she could rotate to spin the beaters. She put it aside as a gift for the palace chef.
Most of the objects in that first box were simple in design.
She opened the second and uncovered toys.
A palm-sized trebuchet that could actually fling the marble in its cup.
A boat with a mast and sails rolled tight that could be unfurled.
A doll with a winding key that when turned had her clapping her hands. A wooden horse with articulated joints.
The eclectic collection fascinated as it implied Avera and her mother might have had more in common than expected.
The third box, the smallest of the three, held only two objects. The first appeared to be a dagger with a thick hilt. She palmed it and ran her thumb over the protrusion at the base of the—
The blade suddenly extended, taking it from a foot long to three. She blinked. A compact sword. How marvelous. She turned it over in her grip but couldn’t figure out how it worked. Pressing the tip to the floor pushed it back into its small size and when it clicked, locked into place.
Since its weight felt good, she tucked it in the pocket of her skirt—something she’d insisted on having despite the seamstress’ objections.
The second item in the crate confused. Avera held up an amulet, round in shape and made of metal and cloudy glass.
Not a very attractive necklace which might explain why she’d never seen her mother wear it.
However, it obviously had some significance otherwise why keep it.
A tingle went through Avera when she stroked its surface.
Odd and interesting enough she tucked into a pocket.
She thought the crate empty only to spot a glint in the straw lining the bottom. It turned out to be a locket, heart-shaped and of finely wrought metal. It took a moment to get the clasp to release. It popped open and she stared.
“What sorcery is this?” she breathed, seeing a perfect image of her mother in one half and a handsome man in the other. Avera didn’t remember ever seeing her mother so young, nor smiling so brightly. And who was the stranger with a swarthy complexion and purple-colored eyes—just like Avera.
Could this be her father?
Even more curious, how did someone manage to paint something so tiny and with so much detail? The artists she’d seen displaying their wares in the city never managed anything so perfect, let alone so compact.
Rather than stuff the necklace in a pocket, she chose to drape it over her neck. She couldn’t have said why, only that it seemed right.
She took her midday meal with the rest of the palace, still alone at her head table island as she didn’t count as companions the random people curtsying and bowing as they spouted platitudes.
Perhaps she should think about forming her own inner court because while she’d spent most of her life alone, for the first time it grated.
It made her think of Josslyn. A refreshing lady who’d not asked for favors and had a quick wit.
She wondered if Josslyn would accept her offer to become duchess.
She found out that afternoon.
Josslyn returned and sought an audience.
Gustav, who’d returned to his post, knocked and stuck his head in to say, “The Lady Druuven is here to see you.”
“Send her in.” Avera clasped her hands to control her excitement.
Gustav cleared his throat. “I have to step out to check on some things and am leaving a pair of rooks to guard but—”
“I know, you’d prefer I not wander around.” She rolled her eyes.
“I was going to say if you do feel a need to wander, bring a weapon.”
“I’ll be fine.” She waved him off and Josslyn entered wearing a wry smile.
“Majesty.” She dipped into a curtsy as the door shut behind her.
“We’re alone. You can drop the title.”
“Very well then, Avera. I’ve been thinking about your offer and after talking myself out of it numerous times, I’ve decided to take the position.”
“May I ask what swayed your decision?” asked an amused Avera.
“For years I privately grumbled about the duke. How he didn’t always seem to have the best interests of the people at heart but rather his wealthy cronies.
And while he served under a queen, his blatant misogyny made it hard for women like me who choose to remain unmarried and take on a more masculine role. ”
“I still remember him telling me I should learn to play an instrument or sew because sword fighting and fiddling with the mechanical wonders of Verlora were unbecoming.” Avera grimaced. “I ignored him, but I would guess his words would have affected those with less confidence.”
“Not just words. Have you never wondered why there are no female soldiers? There is no rule barring them from applying to be in the royal army, and yet, while we do have some go through with the training, not a single one serves in the ranks.”
Avera pursed her lips. “I’d assumed a lack of interest or change of heart.”
“More like the test is geared to have them fail. The duke oversaw the submissions, and when a male he approved of did his arms test, he paired them with someone of equal or lesser strength and stature. But the women…” Josslyn’s mouth twisted. “He pitted them against men twice their size.”
The revelation had Avera blinking. “That’s so blatantly unfair. I’m surprised my mother allowed it.”