Chapter 64
The Court of Ladies
The ladies of the Rhodean high nobility sat around the table, sipping wine and eating supper.
Charlotte swirled her goblet, taking a moment to admire the silver-wrought flowers that wrapped around the stem.
Her mother sat beside her, wearing a pale yellow gown with elaborate white embroidery.
They both glanced at one another, and waited politely for the queen to finish eating.
Queen Rowena sat with impeccable posture at the head of the table, cutting the last of her vegetables with organized precision. The queen smiled at them all demurely, but Charlotte wasn’t fooled; she knew the queen was as cunning as they came.
Queen Rowena finished her last bite, swallowed, and patted her mouth with her napkin. She clinked her knife against her wine goblet, drawing the room’s attention. “It seems there has been tragedy after tragedy in my court of late.”
Lady Lorine straightened in her chair, her eyes gleaming. “Yes, my condolences regarding the Ashcrofts. Such a devastating catastrophe for the realm.” She pressed her hand to her breast in a theatrical display of mourning.
Cow, Charlotte thought, raising an eyebrow at the lady’s performance.
Lady Lorine had barely tolerated Elizabeth and had always been envious of her.
Charlotte didn’t trust Lady Lorine one bit—she was a tittering fool, only pretending to be sad to get in the queen’s good graces.
With Lord Ashcroft dead, Lady Lorine’s family was now the third wealthiest in the kingdom.
And by Lady Lorine’s smirk, she knew it.
“Not just the Ashcrofts,” Queen Rowena corrected as she made the sign against evil against her chest. “There has been another set of murders, also from my inner circle. We have kept the papers at bay, but soon news will travel.”
“Who?!” Charlotte barked out of turn. “Your Majesty,” she amended hastily, heat flooding her cheeks.
Queen Rowena’s smile was razor-sharp. “A just question, Lady Harrison. It is most unfortunate.” She paused, letting the weight of her words settle over the table like a shroud.
She cleared her throat. “The Prescotts. My youngest sister, Duchess Cordelia Prescott, her husband Duke Marcus Prescott, and...” Her voice cracked with what might have been genuine emotion. “Their two children.”
Charlotte’s hand flew to her mouth, horror unfeigned. So much death. She had thought a good family name was supposed to protect them from such horrors.
Clearly not anymore.
“Their entire family.” Queen Rowena’s composure returned like a mask being slid back into place.
“My nephews—aged four and six—and the heirs to the throne have been murdered, disrupting the line of succession,” Queen Rowena said matter-of-factly, as if the inconvenience was in the change of logistics, and not the lives lost.
“Upsetting indeed,” Charlotte said, greatly troubled by the news.
“Indeed. Someone is picking off those closest to me.” The queen’s fingers tightened around her goblet until her knuckles turned white. “I will find out who. And when I do, justice will be swift.”
Lady Patricia leaned forward and simpered, “But surely, Your Majesty, you are so wise and clever, you must have some suspicion?”
Idiot, thought Charlotte, struggling not to roll her eyes at the ass kissing taking place before her.
“Lady Patricia,” the queen said tartly, “wise and clever are synonyms. One would have sufficed.”
Charlotte covered a smile as Lady Patricia flushed scarlet.
“Yet, you are right,” the queen continued, and Lady Patricia sagged with relief.
“I do have a theory.” She set down her knife and steepled her fingers.
“The rebels of Faina are behind it. They have gathered in number over the last year and now pose a considerable threat to all of us. They murdered Lord Wilkinson—a test of their reach. Then the Ashcrofts—to gauge our response. Now the Prescotts—to destabilize the succession itself.”
The queen’s gaze swept the table, cataloguing each face, each reaction. “Murdering children is an act of such depravity that it will unite every noble house against them—not just in our kingdom, but in every kingdom across Asteria. Faina has signed their own death warrant.”
She rose slowly, her chair scraping against the marble floor. “We will prepare for the funeral, and we will, of course, wear mourning black at court for a month to honour my sister and nephews. But we will not cower in our grief.”
The queen moved to the window, gazing out at the gardens.
“The attack on my bloodline has created another crisis, one that must be dealt with immediately. With the designated heirs dead, the realm’s future is uncertain.
” She turned back to face them. “After Lord Commander Griffiths, my eldest surviving male relation, the throne would pass to … anyone?”
“Lord Ashcroft,” supplied Lady Patricia, who was idiotic but well versed in court family trees.
“Yes. Lord Ashcroft would have inherited after Lord Commander Griffiths. But the Ashcrofts, too, have fallen to our enemies’ blades. So, who is next?”
Lady Patricia opened her lips and then fell silent.
There were a few wealthy families the queen could elevate, but Lord Commander Griffiths and Lord Ashcroft were the last surviving members of the queen’s bloodline.
Any heirs chosen outside of them would not be of her family line, and might be contested if the queen did not name them clearly before her passing.
Lady Lorine leaned forward in her seat, her lips tugging upwards, appearing pleased by the turn of conversation.
The queen nodded. “Exactly.”
The queen reached into a hidden pocket in her gown and withdrew a small scroll, bearing the seal of House Ashcroft—a circle of navy blue wax stamped with an oak tree and three stars. “Which brings us to an interesting development.”
The queen settled her reading spectacles on her nose and unfurled the missive. “The will of Lord Ashcroft.”
Her voice carried clearly through the silent hall as she read:
Although it is highly unusual, I accept my daughter’s wish to remain unwed and formally name her my heir.
Elizabeth Beatrice Ashcroft will inherit the estate, all my businesses, and all my assets.
I will honour her decision to remain unmarried, and if she produces any heirs, I will recognize them as well.
In the event she does not return to Ashcroft Manor for some time, I wish that our housekeeper ensures the day-to-day activities remain operational until my Elizabeth returns home.
Since she was a child, Elizabeth has had a knack for figures and logistics.
When she displayed an interest and I had no son to teach, I taught her the principles of running the estate and the surrounding city of Briarton.
If something were to happen to my wife and me, Elizabeth is formally named our heir.
It is my wish that everything be passed to her, and not to my wife’s second cousin, who is our only remaining male relative.
Elizabeth has my leave to use the manor as her own and live there for all her days, married or unmarried, as Lady of the House.
My Elizabeth, if you are reading this missive, the greatest treasure in this life has been having you for a daughter.
Signed and dated, Lord William Ashcroft
Charlotte dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief, careful not to smudge her face paint.
That old stick in the mud had a heart after all.
The queen rolled the parchment and slapped it against the table. “Signed, sealed, and witnessed two weeks before Fainan’s assassins claimed his life. Now, before the Council and the men of the realm have their say, I would like to discuss it with you first.”
She removed her spectacles and fixed each lady with a penetrating stare. “I have the decision to recognize Lady Elizabeth as heir to the Ashcroft estate or not.”
“But why does that matter? Why not let their relatives sort it out?” Lady Lorine demanded.
“Because,” Charlotte interjected, unable to contain herself, “Her Majesty is deciding who will become her heir after Lord Commander Griffiths.”
Lady Lorine’s face went ashen, eyes wide as if she’d been struck.
Queen Rowena’s smile turned razor-sharp. “Lady Charlotte demonstrates why intelligence is valued above flattery in my court.” She paced before the table like a general, the sound of her heeled slippers clacking on the white marble.
Charlotte inclined her head in acknowledgement of the compliment.
“Indeed,” the queen continued, “recognizing Lady Elizabeth as the heir to the Ashcroft estate would place her directly in the line of succession. An … unconventional choice, but not without precedent.”
She gestured to herself with mock humility.
“After all, this kingdom has flourished under female rule. Our borders are secure, and the land has not burst into flames. One might even say, since my rule, after my father’s passing, life for many has improved considerably.
The streets are cleaner, and our coffers are overflowing.
” The queen paused. “Perhaps it is time to consider that competence matters more than gender.”
The queen stopped pacing and faced her audience. “All in favour of recognizing Lady Elizabeth Ashcroft as the rightful heir to her father’s estate?”
Manicured hands rose around the table, some eager, some reluctant, but unanimous, nonetheless.
“Then it is decided.” The queen smiled warmly and lifted her chin in the air, the picture of regal authority.
“Lord Commander Griffiths remains my immediate heir as the eldest male of my bloodline, but should the gods claim him as well…” She paused for dramatic effect.
“Lady Elizabeth Ashcroft will be next in line for the throne.”