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

D inner went on longer than Anyka would have liked, but she suffered it to keep her guests happy. It seemed there was no end to the amount of food and beverages they could consume, however, so when dessert came, she nearly wept with joy.

She ate a single petite, iced chocolate cake while the trolls devoured sweet buns, vats of pear and brown sugar ice cream, cookies, iced chocolate cakes, and custard tarts. When she finished the cake, she sipped a final glass of wine while she waited for her guests to be done.

She briefly pondered Zephynia’s warning but could only conclude that the newest impending threat was one Anyka herself was going to cause. And with good reason. Zephynia, of course, would still claim she was right.

The other Grym who were present had all finished their meals as well.

Ishmyel caught Anyka’s eye, giving her a look that spoke volumes about his thoughts on troll appetites, but she refused to acknowledge it.

She wasn’t about to be caught disapproving of her guests in any way.

Not when they might be able to help her.

When she’d had enough, she gave Wyett a subtle signal.

A few moments later, a chime sounded. She pushed her chair back and stood.

“Thank you all for your company this evening. The footmen will show you to the great hall, where the music will continue and beer will flow for as long as you would like. Unfortunately, I have business to attend to, but I will join you as soon as I am able.”

She had no plans to join them. If history served, they would drink enough that it would make no difference. She gave Korruk, seated beside her, a nod.

“I’ll gather Brentha and her husband,” he said, correctly interpreting her signal.

“A footman will take you to the sitting room when you’re ready.”

“Very good.” He bowed and went off to get his people.

She caught the gazes of Hawke, Nazyr, and Ishmyel. They understood and moved toward her.

As soon as they were in earshot, she spoke. “The formal sitting room.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned and made her way toward the corridor. Wyett and Trog were a few steps behind. She stopped suddenly, bringing the whole party to a halt. “Trog, would you like to join your kin in the great hall?”

His eyes narrowed. “Trog stay with queen.”

“You’re sure?”

He lifted his chin and grunted what sounded like an affirmative.

She carried on to the sitting room. Trog took up his customary spot outside the doors as a footman opened the door for her and her party.

She went in. All was as it should be. Wyett, or someone, had taken the initiative to order a fire be started in the hearth. With the sun shining on Malveaux again, the perpetual chill had begun to wear off, but she would always find a fire comforting.

“Wyett.”

“Yes, my lady?”

“Have brandy sent in.”

“Blackberry?”

She frowned at him. “No.” The trolls wouldn’t savor it the way it was meant to be, and she wasn’t interested in wasting her newly acquired stores on them. “Just the usual pear or apple will do.”

With a nod, he went to speak to a servant.

She moved toward the chair that sat between the fireplace and the largest window. It overlooked the gardens, not something the trolls would probably care about, but the view pleased her. With the outdoor lamps lit, it was particularly charming. Maybe later, she’d take some air with Hawke.

Of course, she still had the trolls to speak with, then she had to read over the proclamation her uncle had written. Chances were it would be fine. He was good at such things, and she’d begun to delegate more to him to ease her workload.

Hawke gestured at the chair next to her. “Who would you like seated beside you, my lady?”

“As this is a meeting with military significance, you may sit there.” She gestured at her uncle and Nazyr. “You two, on this couch in front of the window. Leave the rest of the seating for the delegation.”

As they took their assigned seats, a footman opened the door. “Your guests have arrived, your highness.”

The men politely rose, but she stayed seated as the trolls came in—Korruk, Brentha, and her husband, whose name had by now slipped Anyka’s mind. What was it? Vim? Ven?

Behind them were a pair of footmen with a refreshment cart. Two kinds of brandy, with plenty of glasses, and a platter of cheese, crackers, dried fruits, roasted nuts, and some of the petite chocolate cakes she enjoyed so much.

As she’d already had one at dinner, she’d leave these for her guests, who would, undoubtedly, somehow find room for more. She accepted a small glass of pear brandy. “Korruk, I look forward to hearing your ideas.”

He’d taken the smaller couch for himself, leaving the larger one across from her for Brentha and her husband. “I confess, my idea is to see what Brentha might come up with, so it’s up to her now.”

“Very well.” Anyka looked at Brentha. “We’ll begin once everyone is served.” She shot a look at Wyett, who understood. This meeting was not for ears outside of this circle, no matter how loyal the footmen might be.

They had families in the village. There was no way they wouldn’t attempt to warn them of what was to come. This had to remain secret. As it was, there were more involved than she thought prudent, but what was done was done.

At last, the footmen left. Wyett followed after them and closed the doors.

Anyka set her glass of brandy on the arm of the chair. “Brentha, do you know what it is I hope to accomplish?”

“Somewhat,” the woman answered. “Korruk said you wished to introduce an event that would cause some illness in the kingdom, something that you might blame on the Radiant queen’s interference?”

Anyka nodded. She liked the word interference.

It was accurate. “That is the sum of it, but whatever this event is, it must not touch me, my uncle, my daughter, my Minister of Magic or my Minister of Defense. A few of my ministers, a small number of my household staff, I’m all right with.

No more than that. It goes without saying that I wouldn’t want to affect any of your delegation, either. ”

“No worries there, ma’am. As we’re not on home soil, there’s no danger of that.”

“I see.” She didn’t really, but she knew that troll magic was deeply tied to their homeland. “And what about protecting us?”

Brentha nodded. “I can manage that.”

Anyka leaned forward in anticipation. “Excellent. What will you need to accomplish this magic?”

“It’s best done on consecrated ground, so access to a cemetery, ma’am. I have a few things with me, but I’ll also need some bone ash from a Grym, some black thistle seed, and I’ll need blood, preferably yours.” Brentha grimaced apologetically. “No other way to do it.”

“That’s all right.” The darkness inside her felt eager. Anyka nodded, no stranger to the ways of dark magic, not with her mother being a devoted practitioner. “How long will the magic take to work?”

“By the evening of the day the spell is cast.”

“That will do.” Anyka gestured at Nazyr. “Get her what she needs.”

He nodded. “Yes, your highness.”

She looked at Brentha again. “Once I give my proclamation tomorrow, we’ll go to the royal cemetery.

It’s private.” Meaning no one would see them, and if they did, they would most likely just assume that some of the troll delegation had wanted to pay their respects to Anyka’s parents.

In fact, she’d make sure that they laid flowers on both gravesites while they were there.

“Whatever you think best, your highness. I’m honored to help.”

Brentha was a large woman. Muscular and wide, but not unattractive. If this magic of hers did the trick, Anyka would reward her with something. A piece of jewelry, perhaps. Earrings. Those always fit, didn’t they?

“Wonderful,” Anyka said. “Then that’s settled. I want a few moments with High Warden Korruk before I attend to the remaining business I have, but I trust you and your husband will enjoy the entertainment and refreshments in the grand hall.”

Brentha and her husband stood. She curtseyed again, and he bowed, then he wished them all a good evening and the pair made their way to the door.

Anyka looked at Nazyr. “Do you not have work to do?”

“Yes, of course, my lady.” He got to his feet and followed after the troll couple.

She leaned toward Hawke. “I have a matter I wish to discuss. My private sitting room in a few minutes.”

Understanding he was being dismissed as well, he gave her a nod and departed.

Alone with Korruk and Ishmyel, Anyka took a last sip of her brandy before speaking. “High Warden Korruk, I assume you know your king’s mind?”

“As much as I might hope to. But we’ve brought falcons with us, should a message need to be sent.”

“Very good.” She steepled her fingers. “Do you think the king would be amenable to betrothing his son, Dren, to my daughter, Princess Beatryce?”

Korruk failed to hide his surprise. “I should think he’d consider it very seriously. That is a generous offer and one that would bond our people in a way no treaty could ever do.”

Anyka smiled. “I thought the same. We have been allied for many, many years. It’s time there was shared blood, too, don’t you think?”

“I do. Very much so. I’ll send a message to his highness this evening.” He grinned like he’d been given a prize.

“Good. I look forward to his answer. But please, keep this between us until things are agreed upon.”

“You have my word.”

“Wonderful. I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.”

“You as well, your highness.” He got up, bowed, and left.

She picked up her brandy again and took a small sip. It was good but nothing like the blackberry brandy that Summerton produced. She wished now she’d appropriated more than one case when she and Wyett had made their secret trip to scour the Radiant vaults for Lady Cynzia’s grimoire.

Ishmyel’s brows were raised as he took up his brandy. “You really think Beatryce will go along with this proposal?”

Anyka swallowed and narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know, but it isn’t up to her, is it?”