Page 10 of The Shadowed Throne (Midlife Fairy Tale #4)

F lanked by Hawke on one side and Ishmyel on the other, Anyka looked out at the gathered crowd. A tremendous number of people had come, filling the square in the village center and overflowing into the adjoining streets. It seemed as if every citizen who was capable was here to see her.

Truly no surprise. She rarely made appearances. Of course they would want to see her. She’d asked Korruk to accompany her, which had no doubt added to the people’s curiosity.

Nazyr had given her a potion to drink so that her voice would stay clear and strong and carry to everyone within range. She probably could have mastered that bit of magic herself, but as he’d failed to provide the spell she’d requested, he ought to do something to earn his position.

She frowned thinking about it, then quickly stopped and put on a more pleasant expression. People were watching. Her people. And she needed them to remain on her side.

Ishmyel stepped forward to the small podium on the dais that had been set up. “Ladies and gentlemen, citizens of Malveaux, your queen wishes to speak to you.”

A pair of trumpeters played a quick salute, and the people cheered.

Anyka put on a serious face and approached the podium, where her notes were waiting.

She looked out over the crowd before she began.

“Thank you for joining me today. This is not an easy message for me to share with you, but it must be done, because I love my kingdom and my people and I want only the best for all of us.”

There was no discernable change in the faces around her.

“It’s been my life’s ambition to lift the gloom that Malveaux has labored under for so many years.

When I and my daughter, Princess Beatryce, along with so many wonderful citizens, were at Willow Hall recently, I had the great fortune to finally find an ancient grimoire with the spell necessary to do just that. ”

Was that an uptick in interest? Eyes widening, brows lifting?

She thought perhaps it was. “I cannot describe to you my joy at this discovery. The book belonged to a powerful Grym sorceress, so I knew it would be successful. But before I could bring the text back to Dearth and perform the spell … it was stolen.”

A few gasps but not quite the response she’d been hoping for.

“Imagine my anger that this rare opportunity had been taken from all of us. And then I discovered that the thief was none other than a traitorous Grym working for the Radiant queen. A man who abandoned his queen and country to serve the crown that murdered my parents.”

Heads were shaking now, and each frown gave her more energy. “Not only did he steal the book, but he stole our one chance to see the sun again.” She paused as if she needed to gather herself.

She lifted her head. “If there is one good thing to come from this, it’s that Queen Sparrow decided to cast that spell anyway. To lift that curse. The sun has been returned to us.”

Cheers went up, more than she’d expected. She understood. The people were happy to have the sun again. It meant brighter days, warmer temperatures, better, more diverse crops, and an end to the dreaded gloom.

Now it was time to put a little fear back into them.

“It is wonderful.” She smiled briefly before taking a deep breath.

“Unfortunately, Queen Sparrow, unfamiliar with Grym magic, made a grave miscalculation in her attempt to lift the curse. She either didn’t understand or blatantly ignored the need for balance, which as we all know is the cornerstone of Grym magic. ”

Anyka shook her head. “I can already feel the disturbance she’s caused. I’m sure those of you with magical gifts have felt it too and, if not, I’m sure you will soon.”

A few people nodded. Then a few more. Anyka almost smiled.

“Prepare yourself. I do not know what is coming, only that something is. Magic is not a child’s plaything, it is not a tool to be used to garner favor, and yet that is exactly what the Radiant queen has done.

I pray we survive whatever Queen Sparrow has unleashed. ”

She stared out at the crowd, her face a mask of concern and sorrow. “Know that the crown will be doing everything possible to protect this kingdom and its people. Be well, my citizens, and know my heart is with you.”

She’d done everything she could. The darkness was pleased. She stepped back and turned to face those who’d come with her. Behind her, applause rose up.

She exhaled. Perhaps her words had been more successful than she’d thought. “To the cemetery.”

They returned to the palace by horseback and carriage. Anyka allowed Ishmyel, Hawke, and Korruk to ride with her in the royal carriage, although it was tight. Korruk did his best not to look uncomfortable but failed. Wyett rode on top with the driver.

They gathered in the entrance hall until the rest of their party arrived. Wyett disappeared, but she knew what he was about.

Impatient to get on with things, she gestured at Korruk. “Where is your stonecaller?”

“Here, your highness,” came a breathless voice.

Brentha hurried toward them. She was robed in gray, a dagger worn around her neck like a pendant, the chain interspersed with polished bits of rock and stone.

The strap of a woven bag crossed her body, the bag appearing to be weighted with goods.

“My apologies. I was meditating to prepare and lost track of time.”

It wouldn’t do to upset the woman, not when Anyka was relying on her so heavily. So instead of snapping, Anyka just nodded. “All is well.”

She looked at the rest of them. “Brentha and I will continue on to the cemetery alone. There is no need for a crowd.”

Unconcerned with any arguments, she turned as Wyett returned bearing an abundant bouquet of winter lilies. She gave him a nod. She would place those on her parents’ grave. “Let’s go.”

“My lady,” Hawke called out.

She stopped and glanced back at him. “Yes?”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a guard with you?”

She frowned at him. Just because she’d welcomed him into her bed did not mean he could dictate what she did or who she did it with. “I will be on castle grounds, in my family’s private resting place. Do you really think harm may befall me?”

He faltered. “No, my lady.”

She started walking again. He needed to learn his place, or she would never make him consort.

At least Brentha had been wise enough not to ask for her husband to accompany them.

As Anyka strode through the palace, Brentha beside her, Wyett and Trog following, they passed numerous staff, all of whom stopped to bow or curtsey.

She wondered how many of them would succumb to the magic the stonecaller was about to unleash.

She hoped not too many. Staff was not always easy to come by, especially for the kitchen. Whoever made those petite chocolate cakes had to be spared.

She glanced at the stonecaller. “Brentha?”

“Yes, my lady?”

“Is there a way to keep your spell from affecting those in the palace? My minister and my staff? I know I mentioned this, but I need to be assured of it.”

“Yes, your highness. In the simplest of terms, I’m going to cast the spell with a larger radius than would normally be done. That should protect the castle and the surrounding area.”

Anyka arched a brow. “Should?”

Brentha lifted her chin slightly. “Magic is not an exact science, my lady, something I’m sure you know. If you’d rather I not do this?—”

“No. It must be done.” Anyka sighed. If she lost staff, it would be on Sparrow.

That wretched woman was the cause of this, after all.

When they reached the main garden, they walked through it until they arrived at an iron gate set into an arch of stone and bordered by towering evergreen hedges. A sleeping raven cast in bronze and patinaed by time adorned the arch.

Anyka put her hand on the latch, the metal cool to the touch. She paused. It had been too long since she’d been here. She hoped her parents and her beloved Sebastyan would forgive her.

She took a single lily from the bunch Wyett carried, then opened the gate and proceeded through. “Wyett, take Brentha to my parents’ grave. Trog, with me.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Trog said nothing as he followed.

While they went one way, she went the other, stopping in front of the monument she’d had erected to honor Sebastyan.

Sunlight danced over the large bronze replica of his royal guard sword atop a plinth of stone.

She paid the gravemaster handsomely to keep it polished.

It was good to see he was doing his job.

She placed the lily in front of it, her heart aching. “My love,” she whispered. “I miss you so very much. Some days I think it would be far better to be with you than to remain here.”

She took a gulp of air and pressed her fingertips to the corners of her eyes. She would not cry.

“Beatryce is as stubborn and headstrong as you always said I was.” She smiled a little. “I’ve found a husband for her. It’s a good match. Good for her and for Malveaux.”

A sudden pang went through her at the realization that he wouldn’t see Beatryce’s wedding day, nor would he be there to escort her to her groom. Anyka pressed her hand to the flat of the sword’s blade, the warmth from the sun making it almost feel alive.

Then she stepped back. There was no time for sentiment. There was work to do.

And a war to be won.