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The queen reached for her hand, her flesh cold and clammy as she clasped Avera tight. “Listen to me and listen close. We have little time, and so much I have to tell you. My own fault. I relied on the wrong people.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Suffice it to say, I was betrayed by those I trusted. Blind to the machinations happening in my own country. The greed masked as loyalty.”

“Wait, are you saying we have a traitor?” The thought baffled given their country enjoyed great prosperity. While not the greatest mother, the queen ruled efficiently and fairly. “Surely the blame lies with an outsider.”

“It’s possible a foreign influence aided, however, this attack couldn’t have happened without inside help. There is a traitor, and one close to the palace. Your first task as queen will be to rout them.”

“How, if I can trust no one?” Avera asked rather than insult her mother with claims she’d survive. She could see, and smell, the gravity of the injury.

“Who brought you here?” Mother asked.

“The Grand Rook. He fought off the assassins as we approached the castle. If not for him, I’d be dead.” A realization that hadn’t set in until now. Avera slumped to sit on the side of the bed.

“Gustav has always been loyal to the crown. Keep him with you at all times. I fear the traitor might not be done.”

“You think there’s more assassins?”

“I’d say it’s possible. Whoever planned this meant for the entire Voxspira royal line to die. Without a clear heir, the Lords and Ladies will squabble about who should sit on the throne. Those who fight hardest for it being the most unfit.” The queen’s lips turned down. “Those who crave power often do so to advance their own selfish needs with no care for others.”

“Seems like an oxymoron.”

The queen snorted. “It is because those best suited will be the least likely to attempt to take control. Now on to other matters, as my time grows short. Within my office, inside the desk, which you can open with this,”—the queen pulled out a heavy chain that held both the stamp she used for decrees as well as an ornate key—“you’ll find ledgers of everything that happened under my rule. You’ll want to study them to see how I’ve handled situations. They’ll be a good guide, but at the same time, don’t be afraid to forge your own path. You’re a smart girl. Use that intelligence to rule fairly.”

The compliment surprised. “How would you know what kind of scholar I was?”

“I paid more attention to your studies than you realized.”

“Why?” Avera blurted.

“Because you are special. From a young age, it was clear you saw the world on a different level than most. You seek knowledge, have a curiosity to understand.”

Since it seemed the moment for frankness, Avera murmured, “I’m surprised you noticed.”

“I saw more than I let on, and I am sorry I couldn’t acknowledge your accomplishments, but I had my reasons.” Reasons which the queen didn’t elaborate on, but Avera could guess.

Aldrich had hated it when Avera received any kind of praise or attention. He used to play horrid pranks on her, some that intentionally caused harm, until Gustav caught him one day trying to force her to drink water from the poisonous lake. She still remembered the thrashing her brother received, and while Aldrich screamed that Gustav would hang for laying a hand on him, nothing ever happened to Gustav. At least after that incident, Aldrich left her mostly alone.

“I don’t want to be queen.” The very idea made Avera feel ill to her stomach.

“You don’t have a choice,” came the harsh reply. “The people will need you to lead them.”

“The people barely acknowledge my existence.”

“It won’t be easy, which is why you won’t want to wait too long to choose a consort. The sooner you produce an heir, the better.”

“Marry?” The thought had never even crossed her mind. Avera tended not to pay much mind to men, not since she came to understand that most only wanted to bed the queen’s daughter in hopes of gaining special privileges.

“You need a partner. Someone strong but willing to stand in the background. Seek out one with good family connections. Admiral Venne has a son that might suit. As does Lady Yellowbottom.”

She knew the men mother spoke of, both spoiled and in their thirties, one of whom used to tease her and call her the bastard changeling. “I’ll do my best to find someone suitable,” Avera mumbled.

“I know this is a lot to take in, however, it will be necessary if you’re to hold on to the throne.”

“A throne I never wanted,” she reiterated.

“I know, and that’s why you’ll make a good queen.”