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“Not necessarily,” Gustav murmured. “Could be the explosive was present during our inspection.”

“Wouldn’t we have seen it?”

“Not if they put it inside the body.” A suggestion that widened her eyes.

“That would implicate the soldiers who moved them.”

“Not really. After all, the bodies were left unattended once they were cleared from the street. Anyone could have tampered with them in hopes of erasing any clues that might compromise someone. Could be the bomb was meant to kill you but didn’t go off soon enough.” Gustav offered a few possibilities which didn’t help.

“Is there any way of knowing where they got the explosive?” Avera asked.

Gustav shook his head. “Most likely smuggled in either by the assassins or those who hired them.”

“Could be it came from the mining operations in Flatfoot Plains,” she suggested.

“Possible but unlikely. Those are carefully accounted for given the difficulty in acquiring the combustibles to create the explosives.”

“In other words, we have nothing.” No clues. No suspect. Nothing but paranoia, wondering when someone might strike at her next.

When dinner time came, Avera chose not to eat in the main dining room, wanting privacy from the stares and whispers. Especially the suspicious ones. As she rounded a corner in the palace, she overheard a soldier mutter, “She probably killed her family so she’d inherit.”

While she could understand people questioning the fact she alone survived, it was also an atrocious thing to say. She had enough issues to handle at the moment and could do without her own people turning against her. Thus, despite usually turning a deaf ear to insults, she mentioned the incident to Gustav who took the pawn into custody and meted a public lashing for insubordination in the hopes of nipping that kind of talk in the bud. However, she knew the lowly soldier wasn’t the only one thinking it. Some people actually believed she’d orchestrated the deaths of her siblings and mother. Thought her heartless.

The opinion of people she didn’t know shouldn’t have mattered, and yet she found herself morose. Would there ever be anybody in this world who liked her? Other than Gustav, she had no friends. No confidantes. And that loneliness never pressed upon her more than now.

When she headed to her room to finally escape the wretched day she’d just suffered through, Gustav redirected her to the queen’s suite. “Your new quarters are ready. Staff have moved all your clothing and personal effects.”

“I don’t want that room,” she argued. “I have one that’s perfectly fine.” While some might have been upset at being kept in the nursery wing for children, Avera rather liked her room with its view of the lake.

“Not for a queen,” he countered.

“My mother died in that bed only this morning. You can’t expect me to sleep in it!” She didn’t temper her voice and knew the soldiers outside the suite heard her since they stood guard in the hall.

“The mattress was removed and burned along with the bedding. I told the staff to ensure everything was fresh.”

“You can’t remove the memories, though.” It would take time to erase that last moment by her mother’s bedside.

The statement pursed Gustav’s lips. “You can’t return to your old room. People will talk.”

“They’re already talking,” was her hot retort.

Gustav glanced up the hall, a scowl on his face that suddenly turned into a smirk. “Very well. Since you don’t want your mother’s suite, then I have an alternative that, while not quite as large, is protected and luxurious enough people should accept it.”

She wondered what he meant until he pointed to the door at the far end of the hall.

The consort’s suite.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Your choice. The royal suite or the consort one. Pick.”

“Pretty sure Benoit won’t be happy about being kicked out of his room.”

“Not his room anymore, and before you ask, he’s already moved out.”

Her brow arched. “That was fast.”

“The moment your mother died he knew his comfy position was gone. At least he didn’t make a fuss. Not like someone I know.” Gustav glanced at her. “So, which room will it be?”