Page 14 of The Shadowed Throne (Midlife Fairy Tale #4)

A fter explaining to Hawke what needed to be done and sending him off to prepare those he valued, Anyka went directly to Nazyr’s quarters. As she walked, the box of ashes clutched against her, she thought about Hawke’s words.

You shouldn’t have done this.

She was starting to think as much herself.

This spell might be more than she’d bargained for.

But whatever the outcome, she would remain steadfast in her explanation that this event had been caused by Queen Sparrow.

This was her fault for failing to properly execute the Grym magic she’d used to lift the curse of gloom.

Something Anyka would have done herself, if only Lady Cynzia’s grimoire hadn’t been stolen from her.

This was all Sparrow’s doing. Anyka narrowed her eyes. Yes, that was right. The darkness agreed with her. Sparrow was completely to blame. Anyone who thought differently was an idiot.

She knocked at Nazyr’s door. He answered, a book in his hand.

He closed the book when he saw her, bowing his head. “Your highness.”

She stepped inside and pushed the door shut, an odd, panicky feeling rising up in her. The darkness, perhaps. It knew she needed him. She held the box out to him. “The troll stonecaller set a spell for me this morning. You must protect yourself. It’s begun to spread throughout the kingdom.”

He nodded. “The Mourning Fog? Yes, I know. I have taken precautions.” He lifted his robe slightly.

She glanced down. Ashes grayed the skin on his feet where they were visible in his slippers. She tucked the box against her side. “How did you know?”

“I knew what you wanted done. I knew you were speaking to the trolls about it.” He shrugged. “I have enough knowledge to make such deductions and enough magic to sense when power is being used.”

She exhaled, relieved. “Good. I must go see my uncle and let him know.”

“And the princess?”

Anyka’s mouth fell open. How had she forgotten her daughter? The panic rose up in Anyka again. “Can you see to Ishmyel? I must find Beatryce immediately.” Without waiting for an answer, she started toward the door.

He let out a derisive grunt.

The sound was so out of character, she looked back at him.

His eyes were narrowed, his expression full of judgment. It was like looking at a stranger.

“What? Out with it!”

“Why would you ask for such magic when you do not even understand it? Because I was taking too long to do it right? My spell would not have been?—”

The darkness flared. She straightened, in no mood. “How dare you speak to me this way. I am your queen.”

His face softened slightly. “Yes, you are. But I am your Minister of Magic. I have done everything you have ever asked of me. I have protected you in ways you know nothing about. And yet you ignored me and went to the trolls for this. A spell that will impact your citizens in ways you cannot begin to comprehend. I am rightly angered by this decision. My magic might have taken longer, but it would not have caused the chaos you’ve just unleashed. ”

He’d never said anything like this to her. Not once. But she didn’t have time to deal with him now. “Find my uncle. That is not a request. That is a command .”

She stormed out before he could say another word, but she swore she heard him mutter something about her going too far.

What did he know about ruling a kingdom and preparing for war?

She fumed as she strode through the corridors, searching for Beatryce. There was no telling where that daft girl was. Anyka stopped suddenly. Bea had been excited about the wedding. Or at least she’d seemed to be.

Might she have gone to see the royal seamstress on her own?

Anyka bit her lip. Where was Letty Finefrock housed? The woman always came to her. She hadn’t been to the seamstress since she was a princess herself. But surely she must be in the same place.

Anyka found the right passageway and went toward the staff quarters. She felt like there was no time to wait. That she was already wasting time. “Beatryce? Beatryce . Where are you?”

Letty Finefrock came out of one of the rooms, her hair bound in a kerchief, a pincushion strapped to one wrist, tiny scissors and other sewing tools hanging from her belt. She curtseyed. “My lady.”

“Is the princess here?”

“No, but she is due shortly.”

“How shortly?”

“Mother? What are you doing here?”

Anyka whipped around. “Beatryce, my darling, there you are.” She managed to breathe again. “Quickly, come with me.”

“What is it?”

Anyka pulled Beatryce into an open room and shut the door. “There is magic afoot. Something Queen Sparrow has set in motion. You must protect yourself.”

“What magic? What are you talking about?”

Anyka had to stick to her story. “Queen Sparrow cast the spell to remove the gloom from our kingdom, but she used Lady Cynzia’s grimoire to do it, and because it was Grym magic, Sparrow didn’t fully understand it.

The balance of things has been thrown off.

Haven’t you seen the clouds have returned?

That awful fog that’s covering everything and giving people … nightmares?”

Beatryce looked horrified and rightly so. “No. I’ve been sorting through my dresses with Merylynn, trying to decide what’s suitable for an engaged princess to wear. What do I need to do?”

Anyka thrust the box into her daughter’s hands. “Rub ashes onto your heels and ankles.”

Beatryce grimaced. “The hem of my gown will be ruined.”

“ Beatryce .” Anyka glared at her child. “Do it or you will be driven mad by the fog. Do you understand me?”

Bea nodded quickly. “Yes.” She opened the box and dipped her fingers in, carefully touching them to her ankles. When she was done, she wiped her hands on the nearest upholstered chair. “Can I have these ashes?”

“No, I need those.” Anyka took the box back. “Get a supply of your own from your hearth.”

“I have to go back to my quarters and tell Merylynn. And she’ll need to tell her family and?—”

Anyka just waved her away. “Go. Hurry.”

Beatryce took off.

There was no point in trying to stop her or in telling her not to warn the commoners. It would do no good. Beatryce would ignore her mother’s wishes, and word was already spreading.

With a sigh, Anyka went out into the hall.

Mistress Finefrock still stood at her door, fear evident in her eyes.

Anyka stopped. “I suppose you heard all of that.”

The woman nodded somewhat timidly as she ducked partially behind the doorframe.

“Go on,” Anyka said softly. “Do what you must to protect yourself and your family.”

Mistress Finefrock curtseyed again. “Thank you, my lady.”

Anyka trudged back toward her quarters. Would this spell do any good if everyone was protected from it? That wasn’t the plan. But maybe it could still work. There would most likely be a few who succumbed to the effects. That should be enough to show the rest how dangerous it was.

And if she shared the means of protection with everyone, she would be seen as not only predicting what Sparrow had done but also as the savior of Malveaux.

She thought that through, trying to find a flaw in the plan. None came to her. She wished Wyett was still with her, but undoubtedly he was busy warning everyone he came into contact with.

She wandered toward the main entrance of the palace until she came upon a guard. “Find Chyles, my scribe, and send him to my quarters. Send my uncle, too.”

The guard quickly nodded. “Yes, your majesty.”

She’d write something up and have it dispersed throughout the village. The rest of the villages, those beyond Dearth, could be sent messages via horse and rider, and a few birds wouldn’t hurt, either. She nodded. That was good. It must seem as if no expense was spared.

Pleased with her new plan, she headed for her apartment. Or at least she would after she found Hawke. She’d want him along when she went into the village on her mission of mercy.

There was so much work to do.