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“To check on Luna.” Her horse had returned to the stable after fleeing the attack.

“Your steed is fine.”

Avera, however, wasn’t. Had it been only this morning her mother died, and her world changed? It felt like ages ago.

“I’m going to bed,” she murmured, unsheathing the dagger she’d replaced at her belt and sliding it under her pillow. She wondered if she could demand a sheath for the sword she used in training. Royals didn’t usually go around armed unless you were Aldrich. Her brother, being a bully, liked to threaten.

“Rest well, my queen.” Gustav positioned a chair against the door and sat in it.

“What are you doing?”

“My job.”

“You have to sleep too,” she insisted.

“I’ll be fine.” The grizzled rook wouldn’t budge, and she knew why.

“It wasn’t your fault she died,” she softly murmured from the bed.

“If I’d been there?—”

“You had no reason to be inside her chamber while she slept. My mother lived to be in her late sixties without anyone attempting to murder her. You couldn’t know someone plotted against her.”

“That’s just it. She suspected something was afoot.”

“Because she started carrying a dagger?” She recalled him mentioning it when they were in the dungeon earlier.

His voice lowered. “I failed her. I won’t fail you.”

Avera chose not to argue further because, in truth, she felt safer knowing Gustav watched over her. His guarding presence allowed her to sleep, just not well. She dreamt of the assassin attack, only this time she wasn’t the one who stabbed but the one being skewered.

She awoke, panting in the dark, sweaty, and with her heart racing. She’d most likely have nightmares for a while. The lamp she’d left lit had burned out. Odd because she’d have sworn it had enough oil to last through the night.

As she turned on her side, she thought she heard something. A creak as of a door opening, and yet she heard Gustav’s soft snores, meaning the entrance to the hall remained closed. The consort’s bedroom had no secret tunnel leading to it, just a door adjoining the former queen’s suite, and Gustav had placed a chair in front of it to prevent entry. Most likely the noise was of the palace settling. A place this size and age stretched and groaned, especially at night when it got quiet.

A whisper of sound had her frowning. It wasn’t a footstep, nor the rustle of fabric, but something she couldn’t place. She gripped the dagger she’d hidden under her pillow.

Movement at the foot of the bed turned into a slight weight on her foot. She kicked and rolled from the mattress, hitting the floor with her feet even as she slashed blindly.

A rattling noise brought a chill.

“Gustav!” she yelled.

He didn’t reply. Odd. She’d taken him for a light sleeper.

The darkness had her backing from the bed, unable to see the threat. Could it be a rat? They didn’t usually attack people.

A strident hiss from in front of her led to her slashing. She was rewarded with her dagger sinking into something that uttered no cry of pain, but it did thrash and utter sibilant sounds.

She struck again, feeling moisture splattering her hands and face. She kept stabbing until the scaly creature stopped moving.

A tangy taste in her mouth had her gagging. “Ew,” she exclaimed, spitting and hacking.

“What is it?” Sir Gustav shouted. At the same moment, the lamp that had been dark suddenly blossomed, the light causing her to blink.

And blink again. For lying on the floor with many stab wounds was a very large, brown, mottled snake.

Chapter 6