Chapter 24
“Nicolas, go prepare a summary of our current military positions across Antier.” The queen spoke directly, not a moment spared for pleasantries. “I shall need a written assessment when the council convenes.”
Nicolas’ jaw tightened at the dismissal. His eyes found mine, staring for just a moment as he tried to silently communicate something, then he about-faced.
“As you command, Mother.” The words were clipped and formal. His departing footsteps echoed down the corridor with military precision, each forceful step a small rebellion.
Queen Adelaide waited until the sound faded entirely. Only then did her stiffened posture ease, the severe line of her mouth softening with exhaustion.
“Good.” Her edge dulled. She studied me with eyes that were so like her son’s, yet utterly different in the way they beheld me. “Now we can speak properly. Come. We have much to discuss, and not nearly enough time.”
I was so accustomed to difficult requests from Nicolas that a familiar dread began to pool within me.
The queen’s hand settled briefly on my shoulder, her touch surprisingly gentle.
Then we walked, unsupervised by anyone save Dierdre, who more resembled a shadow that clung to the queen than a living, breathing woman.
Her silence was uncanny, leaving me to wonder if I filled others with a similar sense of unease.
The queen led me into the library, ignoring the workers as they bowed. Only when we passed through the curtains that cut the chamber in two did she slow her pace. The forbidden section… Winnie had warned me on our initial tour never to pass through it, that doing so was a punishable offense.
Now I looked around with wide eyes, surprised at the sheer number of books that were reserved for the royal family. One day the collection would be mine to browse freely.
“I’ve decided to take my role as your future mother-in-law more seriously.
” Queen Adelaide’s focus shifted slightly to the circlet atop my head.
“This means I will begin instructing you on the principles involved in leading a country. I was wholly unprepared to step up as a ruler when Elias died. The bulk of this work will fall to my son, but should anything terrible come to pass, I would not wish my past suffering upon you.”
‘Should anything terrible come to pass,’ she’d said. She spoke of it with the trifling weight she would attribute to a near-stranger.
I couldn’t help but fixate on how dreadful the prince’s death would be, how I could never fill those shoes.
Then it occurred to me that I’d done the very same thing as the queen, reducing emotions to bare strategy, and felt ashamed.
While Nicolas once terrified me, and occasionally still pissed me off, he was revealing himself to be rather tenderhearted.
The thought of him cold and still made my stomach lurch in a way that had nothing to do with political concerns.
The queen moved right along and went to one of the shelves, fingers brushing the leather bindings of various tomes until she had one selected.
She pulled it out, then found another, delivering both to the only desk this side of the library.
They hit the wooden surface with a boom that shook the ground, each book a monument of knowledge in a very specific subject.
I looked over their titles. The shorter work, Taxation and Treasury Principles, could have easily numbered three hundred pages, while A Brief on the Foreign Silver Trade was ironically ponderous.
Queen Adelaide turned away, pacing the room in a tremendously familiar manner. Her hands folded behind her back, and I could easily envision Nicolas in that exact same pose.
“We have a few private tutors within the estate who would be more than willing to educate you,” said the queen. “It will take time for you to become literate enough to handle some of our documents, but if we start today, then perhaps within a few years, you will be at an appropriate reading level—”
She turned, stopping in her tracks. I was already perusing the latter work.
It was an enlightening read from the very beginning: I didn’t have the slightest idea of what life looked like in in Rividinya or the Northern Empires, but here was a table that identified every nation’s imports and, more interestingly, their exports, which told me much about each country, including my own.
Antier’s main exports were wine, timber, textiles and metalwork, though they had imported much of the raw materials needed for smithing.
In addition, Gallae had imported a large count of wheat in previous years, which struck me as curious.
“By the gods, you can read?” Queen Adelaide said, not even attempting to mask her relief.
“My parents were apothecaries,” I reminded her. “We may have been hermits, but I was educated within the home. Reading was my sole escape into the world beyond my cottage…though it pales in comparison to actual experience.”
Impressed, the queen retrieved a large roll of vellum and unfurled it on the table, covering the books.
It revealed a map of the greater world, giving some reference to the odd names I’d heard before.
South across the sea was the island of Demagret, far enough away from Hadria that it was strange to think of it as part of the same nation.
In fact, it was much closer to Aduran. The Banewights must have traveled via the same ship that Duke Augustine had taken.
“Can you find us?” asked the queen. “Castle Altaigne lies between Caermont and Houxfort.”
I looked over Antier. It was rather strange that Gallae and Hadria could merge successfully; both nations were only connected by the thinnest bridge of land, separated otherwise by a sea the width of Gallae. Geographically, it would have been difficult to maintain.
I trailed up from Pontarena, visualizing the long road to and from the seaside region. The inns we had stopped in, the towns we had passed. My gaze pulled to the west, toward the Greater and Lesser Arbordeen, to the village of Finn’s Hollow that separated civilization from the forests.
“Here?” I asked, pointing to a blank space south of Caermont, though the scale of it seemed impossible. It was barely a pinky away on the map, but the ride had taken hours.
“Very close,” Queen Adelaide said with a nod. She guided my hand a little further south, a hair to the east. “Here.”
“But that says Woolsfell,” I objected.
“Woolsfell is not an hour west of us; the distance on the map is negligible. You would have ridden through it when you were brought here. Do you recall the rolling pastures filled with sheep?”
Of course I did. I remembered everything from that day, though it was startlingly distant as far as memories came. “One of our main exports is textiles. Do we supply that export with our own wool?”
Surprised, Queen Adelaide parted her lips to ask where I’d come by that information. I tapped the “Brief”.
Then the queen turned to Dierdre. “I suppose she will make it through the council meeting after all.”
Dierdre smiled back, shrugging. I looked at her, then turned to the queen. “Your Majesty, if I may ask… Does your lady-in-waiting speak?”
Queen Adelaide laughed aloud, a brief sound that seemed to alarm even herself. She put a hand on her rib from the exertion. “I’m not sure. Do you speak, Dierdre?”
“I prefer to listen,” Dierdre said flatly, turning to me. Her voice solidified her existence, as cold as it was. Aged, pale eyes met mine with all the recognition she would have afforded a houseplant. “My ears have kept our queen from all manner of dangers over the years.”
“Dierdre’s silences are seldom broken without proper cause,” Queen Adelaide further explained.
There was a kindness in her tone that implied a depth to their shared past. “Because of this, I have learned to heed her every word. And I have learned that quiet people are often cleverer than they appear.”
Queen Adelaide let the dust settle on her words before closing the tome on foreign trade with decisive finality. “Come. A council meeting is about to commence, which should allow you some practice in the art of governance.”
She led us back through the library and into another chamber previously forbidden to me, leaving Dierdre to wait at the door. The room was well-guarded, lined with tapestries that told stories of treaties and coronations, the duller side of kingdom affairs.
Already the seats were half-filled with advisors, most of whom were familiar faces from around the castle, though there were a handful of complete strangers that caught my eye. Nicolas stood near the great hearth, Quinn close to his shoulder as they reviewed a document.
Both men looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. Nicolas restrained himself as he caught sight of me, though beneath that royal composure, he was clearly delighted.
“Your Highness,” Adelaide said to her son with pointed formality, “Lady Alana will be observing today’s proceedings. She’s to sit at the council table.”
A murmur rippled through the assembled advisors.
“Of course,” Nicolas said carefully, fixing his posture. “Where would you have her placed?”
“Between yourself and Lord Navarro. You can guide her through our protocols, while the viscount can provide perspective on our Hadrian petitioners when they arrive.” She paused, her gaze sweeping the room for signs of disapproval.
The whispers ceased, and I was guided to the massive oak table.
As I sat down, Quinn’s steady presence did little to mute the radiating excitement from the prince on my left.
Nicolas brushed his knees against mine beneath the table. His voice gave nothing away, but I knew he felt our point of contact. “Let us first hear from Lord Merin of Norsomber.”