Page 6 of Lady’s Steed (Swords & Tiaras #1)

The dead reptile bled out on the floor and Gustav exclaimed, “How did that get in here?”

“No idea,” Avera stated, heading for a wash basin.

“It’s a spotted viper,” Gustav declared. “Did it bite you? Its fangs are full of poison.”

“No bite, but I am covered in its blood.” She grimaced as the water turned pink the moment she dipped her hands in it.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” he accused.

“I tried. I called out to you, but you were sleeping hard.”

“Impossible,” he scoffed. “I am a light sleeper.”

Avera turned with a damp cloth in hand. “And I am not. Usually, I can sleep through anything.” She learned to do so given the nursery level could be noisy when a baby got colicky.

Gustav paced as he ranted. “If the food were drugged, how come it only affected me? We ate the same thing.”

Should she mention how the lamp had gone out and reignited once the snake died? It would sound rather crazy.

She let Gustav continue to vent instead. “How did it get inside? These snakes aren’t common on this side of the continent. I’ve only ever heard of them living in Reedsy Marsh which is more than a week’s ride from here.”

“Perhaps someone kept on as a pet and as it got loose,” she offered even as she didn’t believe it.

“A pet?” Gustav couldn’t help an incredulous note.

“We don’t know for sure it was planted,” was her weak reply.

“Don’t be stupid. It doesn’t become you,” Gustav growled.

He marched to the wardrobe. The door was slightly ajar. “I see where they stashed it. Some of its skin rubbed off when it slithered free. Dammit. This is my fault. I should have searched the cupboards.” Gustav blamed himself. “I will relinquish my position at once, Your Majesty.”

“Oh, stop with the self-flagellation. Of all the things to worry about, a poisonous viper hidden in the wardrobe would have never made the list.”

“It didn’t get there without help.”

“Perhaps it was meant for the next consort,” Avera suggested.

“Again, you’re smarter than this. We both know you won’t be married that quick. The snake was meant to cause trouble now.”

“Only, no one knew I’d refuse the queen’s chambers and we were both in here the entire time they set up the bed. No one went near the wardrobe.”

“Indicating it was planted before. The last person to be in that cabinet would have been Benoit and whoever helped him move.”

“You think the former consort left it?” She found that hard to believe. Benoit might have been miffed at his loss of position, but that hardly made him a killer.

Gustav pursed his lips. “I don’t know. It doesn’t really make any sense as he had to know it would implicate him. Not to mention he’s a milksop. Pretty to look at but not much else going on.”

An interesting observation given she’d always seen Benoit as sly. She’d observed him on a few occasions, and when he didn’t realize anyone watched, he would get a cold and calculating look in his eyes.

“I’ll have him brought in for questioning,” Gustav declared.

Could Benoit have been involved in the murder plot? “How would he benefit? He lost all rank and privilege when the queen died. He’d hardly be first in line for the throne had I perished too.” Left unsaid—though it crossed Avera’s mind—was that Benoit would have known the ins and outs of the palace, their routines, perhaps even discovered the passages. Add in the fact his family was one of the older and more powerful ones, perhaps with everyone dead he’d expected to slide into the role of king given his proximity to the throne.

“Who knows what he thought. Perhaps he was angry at losing his pampered position. Even if he didn’t do it, he might have noticed some people in the room.”

“You’re right. He should be questioned. He and anyone else that was anywhere near this room. Grand Rook, please ensure it’s done,” Avera commanded. She had to start somewhere.

“With pleasure, Majesty.” The tight smile let her know Benoit wouldn’t be treated as gently as he’d grown accustomed to.

“Can we have that thing removed?” She waved her hand at the dead snake only to gape as it collapsed in on itself before turning to dust.

She blinked. “Um, Gustav…”

“I saw it,” was his grim reply. “The blood on you is gone too.” She glanced at her nightdress, damp from her mopping but otherwise stain-free.

“How is that possible?” she whispered.

“Foul magic.”

“Magic isn’t real,” she scoffed.

“That’s where you’re wrong, my queen. Magic exists, it’s just not prevalent on Daerva.”

“You can’t be serious?” she squeaked. The very idea astonished.

“Daerva is actually the only continent where magic doesn’t flourish. But that isn’t the case elsewhere. Merisu has witches advising their Emperor, while Pequilh employs warlocks in their army. You should have learned this already.”

“I didn’t think they could actually wield magic,” she exclaimed. “Does this snake mean we have a warlock or witch in our midst?”

“Doubtful. More likely the spell used to conjure the snake was bought outside of Daerva and smuggled in, given our laws banning its use.”

“Smuggled how?” she asked with a frown.

Gustav rummaged in the closet before emerging, holding a clay figurine of a serpent. “The culprit. The magic that conjured the snake most likely resided within it.”

“Felt real when I stabbed it.”

“Because in that moment, it was. Luckily, you killed it before it could cause harm. Now to ensure it doesn’t create another.” He dropped the object to the floor and stamped it with his boot, breaking it into shards.

“I wonder if it was responsible for my lamp not working and you sleeping so soundly,” she mused aloud.

“Most likely.”

“Do you think there are more?” She eyed the room suspiciously.

“Doubtful. My understanding is that because embedding magic into an object can be taxing, purchasing those totems is costly. That said, we should be prudent.”

She rubbed her forehead. “This is too much for me to handle this early on an empty stomach. I’m going to scrounge up some breakfast.” Dawn had arrived while they dealt with the snake, and she found herself hungry, although she could have done without the attention that came when she arrived in the dining hall. Despite the early hour, many of the guards stationed within the palace were seated along with some of the servants, and even a few early rising lords and ladies.

Once more Avera felt judged. People watched her every move as she went to the buffet and piled her plate under Gustav’s watchful eye. He took nothing for himself but stood a few paces behind her chair when she sat.

Sat alone because no royal family remained to fill the seats flanking her. Previous to now, she’d occupied a spot at a table in the corner rather than with her family. An outcast in her own home, but even she had to admit it was by choice. The queen had designated the end seat at the head table as hers. Avera just rarely used it.

To her surprise, one of the ladies in attendance approached and curtsied. “Your Majesty.” The woman remained with head bowed, legs bent.

“Lady Vienna.” Avera knew the matron by sight but had never spoken to her.

“My condolences on the tragedy,” said Lady Vienna as she rose and clasped her hands in front of her.

“Thank you.” What else could Avera say, even as it sounded trite. This was more than a tragedy. It was the absolute darkest moment in their history.

“Should you require anything, I do hope you’ll call upon me.”

Rather than ask, “Whatever for?” Avera muttered, “That’s most kind of you.”

After an awkward pause, Lady Vienna left and Avera leaned back to say, “What does she think I need?”

“In her case, I’m thinking it’s about her marriageable son, recently widowed.”

“Matchmaking so soon?” she squeaked.

“Perhaps, although more likely she’s hoping to become a part of your inner court.” By which he meant the gaggle of ladies that attached themselves to the queen. “Your mother never included her.”

“I’d not planned to have one.” Avera had no interest in ladies suddenly fawning for her friendship given they’d ignored her practically her entire life. Then again, they only copied the actions of her family.

“Don’t be so quick to say no. You will need to surround yourself with people you can trust,” he advised in a low tone.

“And how do I know if I can trust them?” she groused.

“That is an impossible question to answer.”

“You’re not much help.”

“Just being honest.”

Which she appreciated and hated all at once. “What should I plan for today?”

“Overseeing the funeral arrangements. Also, most likely you’ll also have people seeking audience as they begin currying for favors.”

She sighed. “I’d rather have you whack me with a sword.”

“We can do that as well. Exercise is healthy.”

“But let me guess, that exercise doesn’t include a ride on Luna.”

“Not until we can be sure we’ve handled all the assassins.”

“You think there’s more?”

“Maybe. Even one could shoot you dead with an arrow. And we now have to worry about magical traps.”

The reminder someone might still try to kill her decided her next move. “Announce that I am in mourning and I’ll not be receiving anyone until after the funeral.”

“Going to hide?”

“Actually, I’m going to the library.”

“Whatever for?”

“Information.” The more she knew, the better. Left unsaid, she could use a quiet spot where she wouldn’t feel on display.

The library, two stories in height and lined on every wall with bookshelves, had long been a haven for Avera. Despite her best efforts, she’d not managed to read a fraction of the tomes, but she kept trying. Her nightstand usually held two to three books to keep her entertained.

On this visit, she ignored the fascinating history section for the dustier shelves lined with the books on royal protocol and laws, most enshrined long before even her mother’s birth. Daerva didn’t embrace change and its citizens clung stubbornly to tradition.

Avera browsed the spines of the protocol section, titled by the years a monarch had ruled. Most spanned decades except for King Pierrot, who died after seven years due to a fall from a horse. Each book detailed the laws and precedents enacted during that particular royal’s reign as well as promotions and demotions in position. Lords and ladies could inherit their titles, but also lose them if they didn’t serve the crown to its satisfaction. A noble could find themselves stripped of rank overnight just like regular folk could find themselves rewarded and given a boost in rank.

The oldest book in the library—also the thickest—belonged to the first king, Alfred Voxspira, who’d started his reign almost a thousand years ago. He’d been the one to create The Royal Covenants, a book that outlined Daerva’s first set of laws. Avera scanned the shelves for it and frowned when she couldn’t find it.

“King Alfred’s tome with the original covenants is missing,” she murmured. She’d never read it. Why bother when she sat so far down the line of succession? She knew of it, though, because her tutor had referenced it in her history lessons.

“It must be around somewhere. Let me have the librarian fetched.” Gustav clanked off in his armor, just to stick his head outside the door to holler. The only time he left her sight was when she used the privy, and even then, he inspected the interior before she could go.

Grigoire, an old rotund man with a crown of hair above his ears but none on his pate, came in still adjusting his navy-hued robes, the stamp of a pillow still marking his face.

“Your Majesty.” The librarian offered a bow, and she waved a hand.

“Morning, Grigoire.” She knew him well given how often she used his domain. “Sorry to have you disturbed so early.”

“Don’t apologize. Given the recent events, I’m surprised you didn’t spend the night in here.” Grigoire had found Avera more than once tucked in a chair with a book instead of asleep in her bed. She’d found comfort in stories. “Did you need something to distract? I just received a new book from Merisu that has some lovely poetry.”

Tempting, but… “Actually, I was looking to inform myself on my new duties, however, I can’t seem to find King Alfred’s book. I wanted to refresh myself on the Royal Covenants.”

“It’s right…” Grigoire paused and looked puzzled as he crouched in front of the shelf. “It should have been here.” He pointed to the empty spot.

“Someone must have borrowed it.”

“You mean stolen, since they never told me,” Grigoire huffed. He kept track of all the books because, like Avera, he considered knowledge quite priceless.

“I’m sure someone didn’t steal it. More like forgot to mention they took it,” she soothed.

“You are too nice,” Grigoire growled. His expression hardened. “I will find it for you, Your Majesty.”

“Thank you. In the meantime, is there anything else with a comprehensive summary of the Covenants? I’m especially interested in how the succession of the throne is supposed to be handled.”

“The oldest heir inherits,” Grigoire declared.

“I know that. Given circumstances though, I wanted to know what would happen should there be no heir.”

Grigoire’s eyes widened. “Such a thing would be unprecedented.”

“So is the murder of an entire family down to the smallest child. It’s only because of the Grand Rook’s skill I survived.”

The reminder made Grigoire wince. “Luckily they did not succeed, My Queen.”

“ Yet ,” Avera emphasized. “Hence why I want to know what the covenant stated, should that matter arise. After all, heirs die, couples can be barren. Surely our many times great forefather had the foresight to include something should that scenario ever occur.”

“I don’t know.” Grigoire blushed as he admitted, “I never did read the entire thing.”

But she had the feeling someone had. Most likely the same someone who’d taken the book and arranged the deadly assassinations.

Since Grigoire appeared flustered, she changed the subject. “What can you tell me about Fraegus Spire?”

“Nasty place. I have a few books that mention it,” Grigoire declared as he waddled to shelves, pulling books at seeming random and piling them on a table. “Nothing grows on the spire, too cold and rocky. Also quite dangerous. Few have gone exploring. Even fewer have returned.”

“Is it known why?”

“Hard to ask a dead man,” was his blunt reply. “However, there are theories.”

When she remained quiet, Grigoire expounded. “There are claims that storms can hit suddenly, blizzards that can freeze a body to death almost instantly. There are other hazards. Rock climbing even under ideal circumstances is perilous. Look at those who die attempting the cliffs every year to gather eggs.” The vulconawk, a very large bird, nested on the few ledges and in crevices of the cliffs. Their oversized eggs fetched a hefty sum in the market. “And then there are the rumors of monsters.”

“Monsters?” Gustav scoffed, showing he’d been listening.

“Nonsense of course,” Grigoire agreed. “Most likely it’s simply bears and wolves who’ve adapted to the climate and see those exploring the spire as easy meals.”

“As a child, my nursemaid used to sing a song about the sleeping beast under the spire.” Avera wracked her memories to remember it. “Something about, ‘it sleeps, it waits, until the time of fate.’”

Grigoire snorted. “Ah yes, ‘The Conquering Dragon’. An odd choice to sing a child.”

It did have violent bits, but she’d always enjoyed the verse, Upon its back, sword and tiara shall fly, against the darkness that would arise.

“You don’t think the mountain holds a sleeping dragon?” she asked.

“Dragons are a myth,” Gustav stated with finality.

“Pity,” she murmured. The few fables she’d read depicted them as magnificent beasts.

“Here are the best books for information on the Spire.” Grigoire thumped the stack he’d placed on the table. “I’ll see if I can find others, but like I said, not many have managed to explore much other than the base. None certainly ever reached the peak and returned.”

Had her mother? When she’d told Avera to visit, she’d not gone into much detail. What secrets hid there that were required for Avera to rule? And was it terrible of Avera that she’d prefer to leave on a pilgrimage rather than deal with the funerals and her new role?

Gustav stood guard by the door while she browsed the texts, only to learn almost nothing. The spire was cold. She already knew that. Dangerous. Again, common knowledge. The one passage she found interesting was from a man who’d claimed he’d managed to climb a hundred feet only to turn back because he heard singing. It seemed improbable since no one could live there.

Before the lunch hour, a knock on the library door had Gustav exiting for a moment. He returned to growl, “Benoit has fled the city.”

That arched her brow. “Fled where?”

“To his family’s country estate. Apparently, overwrought with grief, he chose to not remain for the funeral and took himself off where he could mourn in private.”

“Plausible,” Avera remarked.

“That man didn’t shed a single tear as your mother lay dying. Nor did Calixte want him anywhere near her. Hadn’t in months.”

“Oh?” This was unexpected news. “Why not? I got the impression they were enamored of each other.”

“In the beginning they were, but something between them changed. The last few months she barred her room at night and refused his visits. In public, they played the role of loving couple, but in private, they didn’t talk.”

“No idea why the change?”

“She never said. I assumed she must have caught him philandering.”

Her mother’s pride wouldn’t have stood for that. Despite being in her sixties, she’d matured very well and looked at least a decade younger than others her age. Benoit, however, had been much younger. Many had wondered at his choice to marry someone past childbearing age given he had no heirs from his late wife.

“Should we have him fetched?”

“That’s up to you, my queen.”

Her first big decision. It seemed unlikely Benoit would have plotted against his own position. Only the queen had ranked higher than him. “Leave him for now. We know where he is, and given I’m supposed to do a tour of the continent after the funeral, it’s easy enough to pay him a visit en route.”

Gustav’s lips curved, transforming his grizzled visage. “Excellent thinking. Although…” His smile faded. “A journey will expose you to danger.”

“So does sleeping, apparently. If it helps, we can ensure no one knows of our travel plans. After all, assassins can only attack if they know where I’m going to be.”

“There is only one main road the carriage can follow. I’m afraid you’ll be quite easy to locate.”

“Who says we’re sticking to the road? Or have you forgotten I’m a most excellent rider?”

“You want to go cross country?” Gustav didn’t hide his shock.

“I hate carriages. Stuffy contraptions. They make me quite queasy and take forever to get places. Besides, Luna would be most upset if I didn’t take her.” The steed being the best present her mother ever gifted her. Avera had never been more shocked than when on her twenty-first birthing day she’d received a note from her mother saying she had a surprise waiting in the stable.

Gustav didn’t argue. “You do have a point and Luna is a fine mare. Your brother had a fit when he found out your mother had her imported specifically for you. Cost her a fortune to get Aldrich his own stallion so he’d stop whining.”

She remembered Fleet, a gorgeous horse with a sleek black coat. Dead because the First Prince rode it drunk during a heavy fog where Fleet broke his leg bad enough he had to be put down.

“Given I’ll be riding on horseback, we’ll travel light.”

“What of your clothing and retinue?”

She laughed. “I don’t need help getting dressed. As for clothes, a riding habit, and a gown for greeting.”

“A single gown?” He sounded skeptical.

“Two, if I can squeeze it. And before you tell me that’s not how things are done, I am queen now, so I’m the one who decides what is and isn’t acceptable. I will say right now, lugging a wagon full of trunks so I can change outfits numerous times a day is dumb.”

His lips twitched. “Your reign will be interesting, my queen.”

And hopefully long-lived.