Page 46 of The Shadowed Throne (Midlife Fairy Tale #4)
B eatryce’s stomach churned with the movement of the boat and the unrelenting waves of guilt that washed over her.
She huddled beside her mother on the deck of the boat, under the canopy meant to shield them from the weather, but gusts of wind still brought rain in. All of her attention was on her mother.
Anyka was cushioned with rolled capes and whatever else they’d been able to find on board so that there was no pressure on the blade that protruded from her. Beatryce did not want the wound worsening. She feared it was more than her mother could survive.
Beatryce sniffed. She was out of tears, her eyes hot with the effort, her heart aching as if her guilt were a living thing gnawing on it. “Mama,” she whispered. “You cannot die. Please don’t die. Don’t leave me. I cannot do this without you.”
She leaned in closer so only her mother could hear her. “Please forgive me.”
She sat back and took her mother’s hand in hers, still bloodstained. Some of it was her own, she knew, since getting on the boat and finding a slice across her fingers where she’d grabbed the blade too far up on the hilt. It didn’t matter. She’d cut off her own hand if it meant her mother survived.
She leaned closer again. “I’m sorry I haven’t been a better daughter. That I said terrible things to you. I’ll be better. I’ll do better. I didn’t mean any of those things. Please don’t leave me.”
Ishmyel kneeled beside her. “We will do everything we can. I swear it.”
She barely contained her urge to strike him. “How can you swear such a thing? You couldn’t even keep an imposter from invading our court. A Radiant fae masquerading as our Minister of Magic and you knew nothing of it.”
She glared at Wyett next, her anger at herself much easier to turn outward. “And you have yet to find the real Nazyr. We still don’t know where he is. For all we know, he’s dying in the woods somewhere. Or, worse, the Summerton dungeon. You are all worthless.”
“My dear grandniece, please,” Ishmyel said. “We had no way of knowing the Radiant queen had sent an imposter back in Nazyr’s place.” He frowned. “I don’t think Queen Sparrow would keep Nazyr in her dungeon, either. She seems too … kind.”
“ Kind ?” Beatryce blinked in disbelief.
“She is the reason my mother’s life’s blood is leaking out of her.
” She pushed to her feet, wobbling once with the movement of the boat, her stomach nearly traitorous.
“You think she is kind? We walked into an ambush. We were surrounded by the neph, who were only there because she brought them in. You are a fool.”
He slowly got up, nodding, defeat clouding his eyes. “You are right. I am sorry I failed her. And you.”
His apology took some of the steam out of her. She swallowed a mouthful of saliva, hoping she did not vomit. With no wizard, there was no help for the seasickness.
Ishmyel wrung his hands. “Your mother is not the easiest of women to get along with at times, but the weight of the crown is heavy on her head. Too often even I lose sight of it. We must all do better. Please forgive me, Beatryce. You know I love you both.”
Beatryce nodded and sniffed. “She cannot die.” Her voice broke on the last words, and new tears fell, tears she hadn’t thought possible.
Ishmyel pulled her close, letting her weep against his chest. “She will not die. I will do everything I can to see that does not happen. There is no effort or expense too great.”
She clung to him, minutes ticking by. Her stomach calmed enough that the threat of being sick passed. When she at last looked up, the shores of Malveaux were visible. The mist had lifted. Patches of blue showed through the clouds.
They would be home soon. She wiped at her eyes with the back of her knuckles.
Ishmyel caught her hand. “You cut yourself.”
“It’s nothing.”
He held on to her. “When did you do this?”
She furrowed her brow at his interest. Was he suddenly afraid for her? “When I took hold of the blade in her back.”
“But this is her blood? Or yours?”
“Both.”
He seemed to pale. “We must get that tended to.”
“I’ll be fine. Why does it matter?”
“Because…” He shook his head and tried to smile. “It’s nothing. I am an old man whose emotions have gotten the best of him. Today has worn me thin.”
“It has done that to all of us.” She glanced at her mother. Anyka looked no better, but she also looked no worse. “How will we help her? Do you think Grylan is up to it? Will Dr. Lockhart be enough?”
“Dr. Lockhart is exceptional. He will know exactly what to do. And Grylan should be more than adequate to aid your mother. We will bring Minister Wickthorne’s sister in, too. Clary. She was an excellent nursemaid. She can be with your mother day and night.”
Beatryce felt a tiny seed of hope bloom in her chest. Maybe her mother could be saved after all. “That would be good.” She bit her lip. The slice on her hand had started to throb. She ignored it. The pain was nothing compared to what her mother was going through.
Just the thought made Beatryce want to find a way to kill Sparrow herself. She shook her head. Revenge could come later. Once her mother was well.
She looked up at Ishmyel again. “Might we also bring in a healer? There are a few in Dearth. Maybe better ones exist in the countryside or another village. We should find out. Get the most skilled to tend to her.”
Ishmyel hesitated. “It would mean making public the fact that your mother has been injured. If that happens, you will have to be made provisional monarch. Protocol dictates any ruler incapacitated by illness or age must be replaced until such time as they are fit to rule again.”
Beatryce blew out a breath. She needed her mother to live because she was not ready to be queen. She hadn’t even married Dren yet. But if her mother needed the help, it would be foolish to worry about such a thing. Her mother came first. “How long do you think I would have to be queen for?”
He shook his head. “I couldn’t say, Bea. I suppose it would depend on the healer’s powers and what Dr. Lockhart and Vice-Minister Evenshade can do. Could be a few days; could be longer.”
A few days was nothing. Even a week. Hawke crouched beside Anyka and held her hand. They all needed her to survive this.
Bea took a breath. “I can do that. It’s not as if anything is going to happen in that time. Right?”
For a moment, he had no reaction. Then he quickly smiled. “I’m sure it will be very quiet.”
“Then that’s what we will do.” She glanced around. Wyett was near the railing, staring at Anyka with the most forlorn expression. “Wyett?”
He looked up. “Yes, my lady?”
“Come here.”
He did as she asked.
“As per the rules of protocol, I will be taking over as queen until my mother is healed. I need you to find the best healer in Malveaux and bring them to the castle immediately.”
“I will do that.”
“I will also need to send a letter to Queen Sparrow in regard to Nazyr. Do you usually help my mother with such communications?”
“No, my lady. Typically, your uncle does.” He nodded at Ishmyel.
She glanced at Ishmyel. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” Ishmyel said. “I’ll make sure your mother’s scribe knows he’s needed, and we can do it as soon as you like.”
“Perfect. And you’ll take care of the process of making me the provisional queen?”
“I will.”
“Then that’s settled.” She watched Hawke. He was tender with Anyka. Almost as if he cared deeply for her. She raised her gaze and found Grylan, sitting at the far end of the boat, staring blankly at a spot just in front of him. “Is there anyone in the kingdom more adept with magic?”
Wyett followed her line of sight before answering. “We haven’t looked for anyone in many years, your highness, but we could certainly contact the schools, see if we can find someone.”
“We must do that. With Nazyr missing or being held captive and Grylan unable to accomplish any large spells without help, our need for a new Minister of Magic is great.”
“I will start immediately,” Wyett said.
Beatryce lifted her chin slightly and took a gulp of the salt air. There was so much to do, but all of it paled in comparison to healing her mother. Everything else was secondary.
After that, taking care of Queen Sparrow would be next.