Page 6 of The Shadowed Throne (Midlife Fairy Tale #4)

F or a moment, Ishmyel blinked and said nothing. “No, I suppose it isn’t up to Beatryce who she marries, but she is headstrong, and I don’t think she’ll be pleased that a marriage has been arranged for her.”

“I don’t think she’ll be pleased, either, but she’s a princess. She’s known all her life that a marriage of state might be a possibility.”

“That is true. But you married for love. She might expect to be allowed to do the same.”

“I married the man who saved my life.” She glared at him, daring him to besmirch Sebastyn’s name.

He smiled slightly as if sensing the shift in her mood and held his hands up. “He was a hero to the entire kingdom. No one would have wanted anything else for you two.”

Anyka took a breath, relaxing slightly. “Beatryce might have been allowed such a thing if she’d shown the slightest interest in a suitable match, but she hasn’t. Not once. Not even at Willow Hall did she seem taken by a man, where there were many unsuitable options to be had.”

Anyka drained the last of her brandy. “This marriage will solidify the treaty between Malveaux and Stoneholde. And it’s well past time she was married. She should be producing heirs, not gallivanting about with a common girl from the village.”

Ishmyel rolled his eyes. “I thought that friendship would have dissolved upon returning home.”

“So did I. This betrothal might help that along. Beatryce will be too caught up in the planning and excitement of it all to spend time with anyone outside the royal court. She might fight this marriage, but once I remind her that it will mean new gowns and new jewels, the fight will go out of her.”

“I pray you’re right.”

Anyka was done talking about Beatryce. “Where’s the proclamation? I want to go over it.”

“My quarters. Should I get it and bring it to you?”

“No, I can read it over as well at your apartment as I can at mine. Let’s go.” She got up and headed for the door. She rapped once on it, and Wyett opened it for her.

She strode down the corridor toward her uncle’s quarters, him at her side, Wyett and Trog following. She wanted to get this over with, then retire to her apartment and soak in her bathing pool with a glass of blackberry brandy.

Tomorrow would be a pivotal day. Not only would she begin her campaign to destroy Queen Sparrow’s image, but with the help of the troll’s magic, there would be real consequences to back her up.

She wanted Sparrow to know what was happening. To understand that her action of taking Lady Cynzia’s grimoire and using it for her own aggrandizement had cost the citizens of Malveaux. Their pain and suffering were on Sparrow’s hands.

Perhaps she could arrange for word to spread somehow. Was there anyone she could trust to act as a double agent?

Wyett went ahead of them as they reached Ishmyel’s apartment. He opened the door and stepped back.

She eyed him, assessing him as she walked in. He could do it, but would Sparrow believe him? Only, Anyka thought, if Wyett spun a good enough tale.

But could she afford to lose him? Giving him up felt like too much of a sacrifice. There had to be someone else. She’d give it some thought later.

“Lights,” Ishmyel said, coming in behind her. “It’s in my office. I’ll get it. Please, make yourself comfortable.”

She turned to Wyett, who stood near the door. “I have Trog to see me home. You’re dismissed.”

He bowed. “Thank you, my lady. Good night.”

He left and closed the door behind him as Ishmyel returned, a single sheet of parchment in his hands.

“Here you are.” He handed it to her.

She took a seat near one of the lamps and read.

It was short and to the point. She’d hoped for a little more.

She handed it back to him. “I’d like something a little longer.

Can you expand it just a bit? When the troll magic takes effect, I want the people to immediately make the connection that it’s because of what Sparrow did. ”

He nodded. “I will work on it some more. Perhaps I’ll have two or three versions for you to look over in the morning. See which one you like best.”

Tired, she nodded. “That would be good. I appreciate the work you did. I just need this to be…”

“Flawless?”

“Yes. We aren’t going to get another chance like this.

If the people don’t turn against Sparrow, they’ll start to see Summerton as some shining example of what life should be.

They’ll want to leave Malveaux. Or, worse, they’ll turn against me.

And if they turn against me, you will feel their wrath just as much as I will. ”

“I know. I will work all night if need be. I’ll get it right.”

“Thank you.” She yawned, quickly covering her mouth.

He folded the paper and tucked it away into a pocket. “Go rest, my lady niece. You’ve had too many long days of late.”

“And there are many more to come. You will support me in this marriage for Beatryce, won’t you?”

His forehead furrowed. “Of course. I will always support you.”

“Good.” She got up. “Bring me your revisions at breakfast. I’ll send Wyett to fetch you when I’m ready.”

He got to his feet as well. “Are you going down to the great hall?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “No. The trolls will drink so much they’ll have no idea if I’m there or not, and I don’t have the patience for such things.”

He nodded as he opened the door for her. “You’re right, and you deserve some time to yourself. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night.” She left, lifting a hand to Trog as she did. “My quarters.”

He grunted and fell in behind her.

As soon as she was back in her quarters, she rang for Jenny, her maid, to undress her and deal with her jewelry and put it all away.

Within minutes, Anyka was in a silk robe with Galwyn on her shoulder and her hair clipped up.

She headed to the bathing pool. She stopped to pour herself a large blackberry brandy before proceeding to the water.

She crouched to set the drink near the edge of the pool, then lifted Galwyn down beside the glass. “Stay there, my love.” She dropped her robe and went down the steps into the water, steam rising up around her.

It was hot and soothing and exactly what she needed. Instantly, the exhaustion she’d been feeling was replaced by a sense of calm and relaxation. She took a sip of brandy as a voice called out, “Your highness?”

Hawke. She’d completely forgotten that she’d asked to see him in her chambers. For a moment, she froze. Then a smile bent her mouth. She’d been thinking about assigning him some new duties.

She hadn’t intended for that to happen this evening, but he was here now. Might as well make the best of it. “In here, Minister Wickthorne.”

A few seconds later, he appeared in the doorway. He took her in, his eyes going wide. He averted his gaze. “My lady, I didn’t know— I didn’t mean?—”

“How are you feeling, Hawke? How is your injury?” She floated closer to the edge nearest him, her glass in one hand. She rested her arm on the stone ledge and studied him. He was a fine specimen of Grym.

He continued to stare at the floor. “Better every day, my lady.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Have you been released to train again? Or are you unable to exercise yet?”

“No, I started back today. Just a few light rounds of practice.” He swallowed. “I can wait until?—”

“Wouldn’t you like to join me, Hawke?”

He hesitated, then looked up. “I would very much like to join you, my lady. If that is what you want.”

He was handsome and biddable. And since she’d recently promoted him, he had much to be thankful for.

She sipped her brandy. “Don’t keep me waiting then.”