Chapter 23 The investigating Queen
The investigation began the way all good investigations do: with the servants.
It was Liriel's idea. "The servants know everything," she reminded me, settling into the chair across from my writing desk. "They hear every conversation, read every discarded letter, see every visitor who comes and goes. And no one ever thinks to guard their tongues around the people who empty their chamber pots."
"Charming image."
"But accurate."
She wasn't wrong. In Hel, I had learned the value of invisibility early. The shadows were my allies not just because of my magic, but because they taught me that the most powerful people in any court were the ones no one noticed.
So I became invisible.
Not literally, my magic could do many things, but true invisibility was not among them. Instead, I became unremarkable. I traded my Hel silks for simpler gowns. I dismissed my handmaidens from their constant attendance and wandered the palace alone, my shadows dimmed to near-nothing, my posture unassuming. I was not the Queen Consort prowling the corridors. I was just another face in the crowd.
The servants noticed me, of course. They always did. But they didn't fear me. And after a few days of quiet smiles and unthreatening small talk, they began to talk.
It started with a maid named Olive, who was barely sixteen and had a nervous habit of wringing her hands. I found her crying in a storage closet near the kitchens, and instead of passing by like a proper queen should, I sat down on the floor beside her.
"What's wrong?"
She stared at me with wide, terrified eyes. "Your Majesty, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to
"You're not in trouble. I just want to know what's made you cry."
It took some coaxing, but eventually the story came out. Her brother had been conscripted into the army and sent to the northern border. Two weeks ago, he had been attacked. No word since. No body. No letter. Just silence.
"The army doesn't tell us anything," she whispered, her hands twisting in her apron. "They just take our boys and, and they don't come back. My mother hasn't stopped crying. My father is saying things he shouldn't—about the King, about the council..."
"What kind of things?"
She looked at me with sudden fear. "I shouldn't have said that. Please don't tell anyone. Please..."
"I won't." I reached out and took her hand. "I promise you, Olive. I am not your enemy."
She stared at me for a long moment. Then, hesitantly, she began to talk.
\---
The stories piled up over the following week. Aurelia was filled with many secrets.
From a courier boy named Finn, while sending a letter back home, I learned that the royal couriers had been intercepting letters from the northern territories, filtering out any reports that made the situation sound too dire. The King, Finn told me, was receiving only sanitized versions of the truth.
"The council decides what he sees," Finn said, brushing down a mare who had come from the northern stables. "Lord Percival's got a whole team of scribes who rewrite the reports. They call it 'summarizing.' I call it lying."
From a lady's maid named Margot, who once served Princess Cressida, I learned that Elowyn had been meeting privately with several of the High Lords. Secret meetings, late at night, in chambers that weren't part of the official palace tour.
"They talk about the succession," Margot whispered. "About what happens if the King doesn't produce an heir. About... alternatives."
"Alternatives?"
"The Princess Elowyn was born first, you know. She should have been Queen. But the Aurelian throne passes through the male line." Margot's eyes flickered with something like anger. "She's never forgiven Cardan for being born."
From an elderly steward named Cornelius who now served in the great library, who had served three kings and had opinions about all of them, I learned that the treasury was in worse shape than even Sera had discovered.
"The late King," Cornelius told me over a game of chess in the servants' hall, "spent gold like water. Wars. Monuments. That ridiculous golden fountain in the courtyard. By the time he died, the coffers were almost empty. Lord Percival has been borrowing from the human banks for years, using the crown's lands as collateral."
"The human banks?"
"Oh, yes. The humans love it. Every loan gives them more leverage. The late King thought he could just default if things got too bad. But the humans..." Cornelius moved his rook and took my bishop. "The humans keep very good records. And they're running out of patience."
I stared at the chessboard. "Why hasn't anyone told Cardan?"
Cornelius looked at me with ancient, knowing eyes. "Who do you think has been hiding the letters?"
It took me a moment to understand. "Elowyn?"
"She controls access to the King. Has since he was crowned. Every report, every petition, every piece of bad news, it all goes through her first." He shrugged. "The King sees what Princess Elowyn wants him to see. And she wants him to see a kingdom that needs her guidance. Not a kingdom on the brink of collapse."
I moved my queen. "Checkmate."
Cornelius blinked. "Well. That was unexpected."
"I'm full of surprises."
\-—————————-
Armed with knowledge, I knew more about Aurelia than Elowyn or anyone else would want me to know.
The coronation was still a week away. Elowyn was handling the preparations with her usual efficiency, which meant I was being excluded from every decision, every meeting, every choice about my own ceremony.
"The flowers will be golden roses," she informed me one morning, intercepting me in the corridor outside the throne room. "The High Priestess has approved the ritual. The lords are preparing their gifts. You need only show up and look appropriately grateful."
"I have some thoughts about the ceremony..."
"I'm sure you do. But the plans are already finalized." She smiled her crooked smile. "Perhaps next time."
"There won't be a next time. I only plan to be coronated once."
"Then it's a shame you won't have any input." She patted my arm with false sympathy. "But don't worry. I'll make sure everything is perfect."
She swept away before I could respond.
I stood in the corridor, my shadows curling with barely suppressed fury, and reminded myself that I was playing a longer game. The coronation was a battle. I could afford to lose a battle if it meant winning the war.
But I would not lose the war.
\-———————————-
The delegation arrived on a gray, drizzling morning.
They came from all corners of the Aurelian Kingdom, High Lords and their ladies, traveling in carriages of gold and ivory, bearing gifts for the newlywed King and Queen. The throne room was packed. Courtiers lined the walls, eager to see the tributes and curry favor with the visiting nobles.
Cardan sat on his massive golden throne. I sat on my smaller one beside him, wearing another Aurelian gown, this one silver and ivory, like a concession to my Hel origins rendered in the most palatable form possible.
The High Lords approached one by one.
Lord Thornwood, Cressida's husband, was first. He was a bland, soft-handed man with a smile that never reached his eyes. Cressida stood beside him, her honey-brown hair swept up and studded with pearls, her expression serene.
"Your Majesties." Lord Thornwood bowed. "We bring gifts from the Thornwood estates. Silks from our looms. Wine from our vineyards. And a breeding pair of our famous golden pheasants."
"Golden pheasants," I repeated.
"They're very rare. Very beautiful." Cressida's smile sharpened. "And very fertile. They breed constantly. We thought it was an appropriate gift for a newlywed couple."
The implication was not subtle.
"How thoughtful," I said. "I do hope they're house trained."
Cressida's smile flickered. "Excuse me?"
"Ash has a tendency to chase birds. I'd hate for your gift to become his breakfast."
From my shoulder, Ash made a small, hungry sound.