Chapter 16
Footmen rushed to clean up the shards of glass from the broken goblet Beatryce had thrown. Meanwhile, she fumed, unable to remember a time she’d been this furious. How dare the Radiant queen refuse to help them? To Beatryce, it solidified one thing in her mind.
Queen Sparrow wanted Anyka dead. And that meant everything Anyka had believed about that wretched woman was true.
She wanted the throne of Malveaux for her own. She wanted to rule both kingdoms. From that, Beatryce could only conclude that Sparrow would want her dead as well.
“What can I do to help?” Dren asked quietly. “I know you’re upset, which upsets me.”
The darkness receded enough for her to focus. She looked at Dren, touched by his concern. “I don’t know what to do. I reached out to the Radiant queen for help for my mother and she’s refused me.”
She tossed the letter in front of him.
He picked it up and read. “Could one of my stonecallers not help?”
“I thought your delegation had returned to Stoneholde?”
“They have, but I have a stonecaller with me. Having one in my court is protocol, as my people have different magic than the fae.”
She still wasn’t convinced. “I don’t doubt that your stonecaller has a significant amount of power, but what’s required for my mother is…delicate work.”
He nodded. “You think because of our size and manner, we would not be capable of certain things and I understand that. But I promise you it is not the case.”
He wasn’t wrong about her perception of the trolls. Dren might be handsome and well mannered, but he was still very much a troll. Tall, broad, and thick-bodied down to their fingers and toes, there was nothing delicate about any of them.
“I don’t know,” she said in a softer voice, not wanting to upset him.
“My lady, what have you got to lose?”
He had a point. She thought it over. Time was not on her mother’s side.
Bea hadn’t given him any of the details of her mother’s injuries, but she could imagine what he’d heard.
They were about to be married. Surely, he would realize the need to protect the crown from further rumors.
“What do you know of my mother’s injury? ”
“That she was severely wounded at Tenebrae. With a dagger. Is that correct?”
Bea nodded. “Yes.” She took a breath. “The dagger remains in her, piercing her heart. We need a magician capable of heating the dagger very quickly, hot enough to sear the wound closed as the dagger is removed.”
“To staunch the flow of blood.”
Her eyes widened. He understood. “Yes.”
His expression became thoughtful. Serious. “It’s not such an uncommon wound, especially not in battle, but the stonecallers that accompany our warriors are used to working on more…robust bodies.”
“You think my mother is too frail?”
“Not frail, but the fae are slighter in build than we are.” He offered a quick smile. “I will ask Stonecaller Thruma if it’s something she feels able to do.”
Bea frowned. “You have a woman with you? In your court?”
He paused. “Are you jealous, my lady?” He laughed softly. “Do you not have men in your court?”
She did and instantly realized the foolishness of her feelings.
“I do, and you’re right. I suppose it just caught me off guard.
Please, speak to her. Explain to her what needs to be done and find out if she feels confident that she can take on this challenge.
If need be, she can speak to the healer who is overseeing my mother’s care. ”
“That would be a wise decision. In fact, why don’t we have Stonecaller Thruma meet with your healer and let them discuss things?”
“Yes.” Bea raised her hand to one of the footmen. “Get Councilor Wyett here immediately.”
The footman nodded and took off.
She felt better already. She didn’t need the Radiant queen’s help. It was good that Sparrow had denied Bea’s request. This way, that wretched woman wouldn’t be able to take credit for Anyka’s recovery.
Her appetite restored, Bea lifted the lid on the dish of wheat cakes and helped herself to one. She doused it liberally in syrup. She deserved a little something sweet for all she was dealing with.
Wyett arrived shortly. “You called for me, my lady?”
“I did.” She picked up the letter and held it out to him. “Summerton has refused to help.”
Wyett took the letter and read, his expression darkening.
She stabbed another bite of wheat cake dripping in syrup.
“I’ve already found a solution. Prince Dren has offered up his stonecaller.
We need Mistress Barlow to explain to Stonecaller Thruma what my mother needs.
If Stonecaller Thruma is confident she can perform the magic necessary, we will proceed. Arrange it so they can speak.”
“Right away.”
“And hold onto that letter. Put it somewhere safe. The time may come for the citizens of Malveaux to understand just how deceitful Queen Sparrow is.” Bea snorted. “For all her talk of peace, she has revealed her true self in that letter.”
“I’ll take care of it, your highness.”
“Good. See to the healer and the witch.”
With a short bow, he left.
She used another bite of wheat cake to mop up the remaining syrup. She would have preferred them with berries and cream. She’d have to remind the kitchen of her preferences.
Dren sat back from his empty plate. “That seems well in hand. We must only wait for their answer now. Would you still like to take in the gardens?”
“Yes.” After everything she’d eaten, a walk would do her good. He saw to her chair, and they left the dining room. He gave her his arm, which she took. “Did you know that my new apartment has its own access to the garden?”
“I did not.”
“My grandmother had many gifts, one of them with plants. She loved the gardens. Some of the trees and flowers there were placed by her.”
“What a wonderful legacy.”
They headed out through the main entrance to the garden, which pleased Bea. Her gown and jewels deserved to be seen by as many as possible. With Dren accompanying her, she truly felt royal.
Was the crown finally becoming comfortable? It seemed so. The way she’d handled the news from Summerton seemed proof.
The gardens really were something now that the sun had returned to Malveaux. There were flowers everywhere. A team of royal gardeners was at work, doing whatever it was they did.
She and Dren strolled along one of the stone paths, taking in the landscaping. Krohl followed at a reasonable distance.
“Where is your apartment from here?” Dren asked. “We could walk that way, if you like.”
She pointed ahead. “That way.”
As they walked deeper into the garden, Bea saw signs that not all was well. Here and there, leaves were brown and burnt-looking, or shriveled. Stems drooped and one tree looked altogether dead.
She snapped her fingers at one of the gardeners to get his attention, then pointed at the dying greenery. “What’s the meaning of this?”
He bowed. “My lady, the plants that thrived in shade are suffering. We are doing our best to make things right, but…” He shrugged.
“I see. Protect those my grandmother planted first. Anything else can be ignored.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Bea sighed as they walked on. “I feel my grandmother’s blood ivy may suffer. There is a wall covered in it on the way to my new quarters. It’s renowned for its tiny red flowers and dark leaves. Simply beautiful. But now, who knows?”
“Perhaps it’s not as bad as all that,” Dren said.
But as they approached the side of the castle where the ivy was known to flourish, it was easy to see the sad state of it. There was no shine on the leaves and what flowers remained were dark and looked like paper. The plant seemed to shrivel in on itself even as she watched.
She sighed. “I don’t like that at all.”
A voice called out before Dren could respond. They turned to see Wyett coming toward them.
That brightened Bea’s mood. “Have you gotten an answer already?”
“No, your highness, I apologize.” He bowed. “Stonecaller Thruma has requested to speak to Prince Dren before she meets with Mistress Barlow.”
Bea rolled her eyes. Could nothing happen quickly? She released Dren’s arm. “Go. Whatever the delay is, bring it to an end. My mother’s time grows short.”
“I will, my lady, you have my word.”
He left with Wyett. She thought about going back to her quarters. She was nearly there anyway, but the day was warm and the breeze was sweet. Somewhere nearby was her grandmother’s favorite bench. She glanced at Krohl. He was standing some feet away, scanning every access path.
She was more than safe here. Bea found the bench and sat. She had much to think about anyway. Not just her mother, but everything she’d learned from Vespera last night. Most importantly about her grandmother’s vault.
Looking at the castle plans might help, but reading such things might take a different set of eyes than hers. She stared at the blood ivy, her mind turning over the problem. Where would Leda have thought the safest place for the things most valuable to her?
The obvious answer seemed to be nearby. Somewhere she could keep watch over it. Somewhere that could be accessed quickly.
The answer to that felt like it would be her personal quarters, but again, how would such a vault not be revealed with all that had happened to the apartment these last few days?
As she stared at the ivy, a pattern began to emerge. Five dark diamonds. She frowned. That made no sense. How could those shapes appear in the ivy?
She left the bench and walked closer, trying to understand what she was seeing. This wall was directly next to her quarters. The same apartment that had been her grandmother’s for many years.
She stared through the big windows that led into her new sitting room. Then back at the diamond shapes high up on the wall.
Another step closer and she realized the shapes weren’t in the ivy, they were behind it, revealed by the dying leaves.
Her mouth fell open. The shapes were visible because they were reflecting light.
They were made of glass. They were windows.
She tried to work out what room those windows were in, but that made no sense.
For security reasons, there was nothing on either side of the apartment, just thick buttresses of stone.
The same was true of her mother’s apartment across the hall.
She stared up at the diamonds. So why put windows in stone?
Because, obviously, there was something more than stone behind them.