Page 18 of The Shadowed Throne (Midlife Fairy Tale #4)

T he news of the fog and its potential harm had not been well received. Anyka smirked into the darkness, the village below her glowing with lights as the villagers made their preparations. Despite the warmth lingering in the air, nearly every home had a fire going.

There was a reason for that. They wanted the ashes.

Grylan had told them that painting the thresholds of their homes would keep the fog from coming in as well. He’d confirmed it was true, so she’d had the castle thresholds treated.

But already there were reports coming in of those who’d acted too late. A scullery maid had gone mad on her way in from the barn. A blacksmith in the village had set his shop ablaze fighting off imaginary wraiths. Another villager, a teacher, had attempted to lead her entire class into the sea.

Anyka’s smirk grew slightly wider. All Sparrow’s fault. And she was about to be the most hated woman alive, at least on this side of the Whistling Sea.

She leaned on the railing. The fog pooled in the streets, the corpse-pale mist catching the light coming from the nearby windows and lamps.

Here and there she could just make out dark figures hurrying through the streets, skirting the fog as best they could.

She’d spoken briefly to Brentha this evening after dinner. The woman had assured Anyka that the fog would dissipate in another day or two as it slowly moved on.

Soft footsteps came from behind her. Without turning around, she recognized them as Wyett’s. “Any news?”

“A footman has had a seizure, my lady, and there is talk that someone in the village has hanged themselves. I don’t have details yet.”

“That’s awful.” She erased all traces of pleasure from her expression before facing him. “Anything else?”

He nodded. “Wyvern were seen again today by the guards on the Brightwater Bridge.”

Her eyes narrowed. “More of that formation nonsense? Showing off?”

“Not from what I was told. They were flying low, along the coast. One guard believes they were spreading something. Possibly powder. Or ashes.”

She frowned. “How would they have known to spread ashes?”

“I don’t know, my lady. Perhaps one of the Radiant is familiar with troll magic. Their sorcerer is ancient and wise. Knowledgeable about many things.”

She huffed out a breath. “That woman is so tiresome. That whole kingdom is. It will be so much better when it’s under my control.”

He said nothing.

“Has Nazyr returned yet?”

“No, my lady.”

“He is also tiresome.” She was bored, and restless, and the weight of the crown felt particularly heavy this evening. Perhaps because the troll delegation was wearing on her. They were fine people, but they were loud and boisterous. She preferred quiet and subdued.

Compounding matters was the fact that once Beatryce was married, there would be trolls around all the time. Her son-in-law, for one. His servants and guards would only add to that.

Why couldn’t they all be Trog? Barely noticeable and rarely heard.

He was the ideal troll, a pinnacle to be achieved. But that was just her dream, not the reality of the citizens of Stoneholde.

The wedding would be nearly unbearable. Three days of feasting and celebration at minimum. It might actually cause her true mental distress. Perhaps she’d have Nazyr make her a calming potion. Something to help her get through it.

Just the thought of the wedding made her skin itch, which riled the darkness, making her feel restless. She looked at Wyett. “I want to do something.”

“What, my lady?”

“I don’t know. But I want to get out of the castle. Away from our guests.” If she went back downstairs and they saw her, she would be obliged to join them in the carousing that was undoubtedly still going on in the dining hall.

Wyett’s brows lifted. “Where would you like to go, your highness?”

She thought a moment. The library might be nice. There was very little chance any of the trolls were in there. She could have a glass of blackberry brandy and read for a while.

But what if one of them saw the lights and found her?

No, she needed to get out of the palace. That was key. She wondered if Nazyr wasn’t on to something. She sighed. If only Willow Hall were closer. “I don’t know. I just need to get away from here. For a little while.”

He seemed to have a thought but said nothing.

“You have a suggestion?”

“The stables?”

“Still on palace grounds and the guards would know I was there. A ride might not be a bad idea though.” Did she really feel like going for a ride? She’d have to bathe afterwards. She couldn’t go to bed with the smell of horse on her. As much as she loved Nymbus, her warhorse did not smell of roses.

She shook her head. “No, not a ride. Something more … relaxing.” She let out a deep sigh. This life was so hard sometimes.

She peered at him. “What do you do to relax?”

He stared back. “I sleep, your highness.”

She made a face at him. “When you’re not sleeping.”

“Then I am working for you.”

“You must visit family sometimes. Don’t they live in the village?”

“No, my parents have a farm just beyond. My sister and her husband live and work there, too.”

This was new information. Not only had she been unaware that his parents were farmers, but she hadn’t known he had a sister. “What do they grow?”

“Potatoes, turnips, and leeks, my lady. They also have a small pear orchard as well as some livestock.”

“Sounds positively homey.”

He smiled. “It was a lovely place to grow up.”

“Just the other side of Dearth, is it?”

“Yes.”

“When’s the last time you were there?”

His eyes narrowed in thought. “It’s been a few years, my lady.”

“Well, then. Perhaps it’s time to rectify that.”

He looked at her blankly. “You think I should … go visit them?”

“I think we should go visit them. No one will know where I am, nor do they need to for a day. Things will be fine. The fog is under control, the trolls are due to leave any day now, and I deserve some time to myself. I’ll leave a quick note for my uncle but tell no one else.”

The expression on his face wasn’t one she’d seen before, but she wasn’t interested enough to parse it out. “I’ll pack my own bag, otherwise I’ll have to tell Jenny what I’m up to. Have Mucklow saddle my horse and Trog’s. And one for you, of course.”

“My lady, people will recognize you.”

“Not tonight they won’t. They’re all too busy spreading ashes over everything they own. Go on, off to the stables with you. Oh, and let Trog know what we’re doing on your way out.”

“Yes, my lady.”

He left. She smiled as she went into her dressing room. It took her a moment, but she found one of the tapestry bags she used for travel and packed a nightgown, some toiletries, clothing for the return trip, and a pair of slippers.

She took off her rings, bracelets, and circlet and left them on the dressing table. Her necklace, she tucked beneath her gown. There was no point in inviting trouble. She didn’t need it, and it might only be a hindrance.

She changed into the most boring gown she could find, one she never wore because it was too plain.

To that, she added her simplest black cape with the hood up.

That would help disguise her face. In fact, it sat so low, she decided to put her circlet back on, since it wouldn’t be seen. She was queen, after all.

But there would be no disguising Galwyn, and she was not leaving him here. She went out to put his braces on so that she could tether him. She wouldn’t risk him getting spooked and taking off.

By the time Wyett returned, she was ready.

She’d written a short note to her uncle, which she would hand off to a footman on the way to the stables.

Perhaps she should tell the man not to deliver it until an hour had passed.

She did not want to be tracked down. Although she doubted Ishmyel would do such a thing.

He’d probably be happy to have her gone for a bit.

Ungrateful man.

Wyett took her bag. She adjusted her hood, then set Galwyn on her arm. “Come, my pet. We are off on an adventure.”