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“Had to do something. Gustav would have kept hunting for the person behind the assassinations. I thought it best to offer someone plausible. Petturi served his purpose. No point in keeping him around.”

“What of his son? He seems to think he’ll be stepping into his father’s role.”

“That weak idiot?” The disdainful snort sent shivers down Avera’s spine. “If he makes a pest of himself then an accident is easy to arrange.”

Avera stiffened at the casual way the other man spoke of murder.

“Speaking of accidents, when is the bastard queen going to meet her demise?”

Avera slapped a hand over her mouth lest they hear her gasp. Josslyn gripped her arm tight. To think she’d met with Venne and thought him stiff but respectful. A lie, apparently. She truly couldn’t trust anyone.

“She’ll be gone soon, the question being whether we can arrange it before the tiara ceremony. The original plan to have her thrown from her horse might not work given that old rook’s been coddling her.”

“I don’t see why we can’t just murder her like the others,” Venne said.

Avera’s nails dug into her palms as she listened to them callously discussing her death.

“Because a murder at this stage would come across as a coup and the people might revolt. Better they think they lost their queen to a senseless accident. Then when it comes time to put someone on the throne, they’ll be more accepting.”

“And if they aren’t?” Venne questioned.

“Then anyone speaking against my ascent will be deemed a traitor to the throne.” A cold reply.

Who spoke? Why did she feel as if she knew them? Wracking her brain, she couldn’t think of anyone with that kind of low, serious tone.

“This would have been easier had that bastard died with the others.”

“Unfortunately, the assassins had difficulty getting through the culvert. The bolts holding the grill in place rusted and snapped when they tried to remove it. The grate required sawing which in turn meant they had to go find the proper tools. A minor setback. By this time next week, the Voxspira line will be no more, and a new age will begin.”

“With a king to lead us once more as we pave the way for the return of our master,” stated Venne.

What master? Avera’s questions mounted.

“What are we doing with the Grand Rook? Will he also suffer an accident?”

“Once I’m king, I’ll retire him.”

“And if he balks?”

“Charge him with treason. After all, he failed to protect the Voxspira line.” The sneering tone niggled. Where had she heard it before?

“I look forward to us meeting in comfort with wine and women.”

“Soon. Very soon everything we’ve worked for will come to fruition.”

“First, Daerva, then onward to liberate he who has been waiting.” Venne sounded almost reverent.

“Make sure the fleet is ready. Once I’m crowned, we’ll begin the next phase.”

“I cannot wait.”

“I’ll not contact you again until after the bastard queen is dead. Be ready to support my claim.”

“Of course,my king.”

The men chuckled and the sound of back slapping had Avera clenching her jaw. She’d have Venne hung, right after he revealed those he conspired with.

“I should go before a servant comes to see if I got lost. I’d better grab a bottle as it wouldn’t do to return from the cellar empty-handed.” A bottle clinked. “Petturi and his cheap piss,” Venne grumbled. “I’ll have a better vintage for when I raise the first toast to your reign.”