Chapter 81 Mill of sorrows

Chapter 81 Mill of sorrows
"Because I refuse to define my worth by my ability to produce a child." I rose and walked to the window. The golden city sprawled below, glittering in the morning light. "I never really expected to be a mother. I never dreamed of nurseries and lullabies and little feet running through the palace halls. I was raised to be a warrior, a diplomat, a Princess. If I do have children, I will love them fiercely and treat them well. But if I don't, I will not crumble."

"But the succession..." 

"The succession will sort itself out. If Freya's child is a boy, let him be heir. If she's a girl, let her be heir. I don't care about the gender, and I don't care about the politics." I turned to face her. "What I care about is the kingdom. The people. The soldiers dying on the northern border while the court parades needless gossip about my womb."

Cressida was silent for a long moment. Then she said, quietly: "You're not like other queens."

"Is that a compliment?"

"I don't know yet." She rose. "But I'll think about it."

She left the basket of herbs on my desk and departed, her rose silk gown trailing behind her like a fading sunset.

I stared at the herbs for a long time. Then I swept them into a drawer and turned back to the reports.

\-——————————-

Cardan summoned me an hour later.

I found him in the council chamber, surrounded by his advisors. Lord Castellan was speaking in the droning tone he reserved for matters he considered beneath his attention. Lord Ambrose was frowning at a map. Elowyn was conspicuously absent.

"Nyx." Cardan looked up as I entered. "Good. We need you."

I took my seat at his right hand. "What's happened?"

"A mill collapsed in the lower districts last night." Lord Castellan's expression was one of profound annoyance. "Two workers were killed. The rest have refused to return to work until 'conditions improve.' They're demanding compensation, repairs, and a formal investigation. And an audience from the crown."

"Two workers dead, and the council's primary concern is that the others won't work?"

"The mill produces grain for a third of the city. Without it, bread prices will rise. The people will grow hungry. And hungry people are restless people."

I stared at him. "Perhaps they're restless because they're already hungry. Perhaps the mill collapse is a symptom of a larger problem."

"The lower districts have always been... difficult," Castellan said carefully. "The common Fae who live there are not like us. They have fewer gifts. Lesser magic. Some are born with no magic at all,  but the useless ability to turn into an animal. Honestly they're closer to humans than to true Fae. They've always been... discontented."

"Discontented." I tasted the word like something sour. "Well, it sounds like they live poorly while the palace gleams with gold. And must be working in dangerous conditions for such accident to happen. And you call them discontented."

The council chamber fell silent.

Cardan was watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read. "What do you suggest, Nyx?"

"I suggest I go to the lower districts myself. Speak with the workers. See the conditions. Find out what they actually need." I met his eyes. 

A long pause. Then Cardan nodded.

"That was what I was hoping. They might take kindly to you if you see them. And I do want you to have more responsibility in matters of the kingdom. Take Captain Aldric and a small guard. And your handmaidens." He paused. "And be careful. The lower districts are not the palace."

"It can't all be that bad. The place I come from isn't exactly sunshine and rainbows."

"I know. But be careful anyway."

\-————————

The lower districts of Aurelia Prime were not what I expected. At all. Cardan had warned me, but I was very unprepared for the sight I saw. 

I had imagined something modest, modest living and small houses, humble homes, simple shops, ordinary Fae going about their ordinary lives. I had not imagined this.

The streets were narrow and winding, paved with cracked cobblestones that had not been repaired in decades. The buildings leaned against each other like tired old men, their walls stained with soot and damp. The air smelled of smoke and sewage and something sour that I didn't want to identify.

And the people.

The people were thin. Hollow-eyed. Their clothes were patched and faded, their faces marked with the particular weariness of those who worked too hard for too little. They watched our procession with a mixture of fear and resentment. Children peered from doorways, their faces dirty, their eyes too old for their years.

"Gods," Thalia breathed. "I didn't know it was like this."

"Neither did I." I looked around, my chest tight. "We've been living in the golden palace, eating golden fruit from golden plates, while our people starve in the shadows of our own walls."

"The palace doesn't talk about this," Liriel said quietly. "It's not mentioned in the reports. Not in the council meetings. Not anywhere."

"Because no one wants to think about it." I turned to Captain Aldric. "The mill. How far?"

"Just ahead, Your Majesty. At the end of the street."

The mill was a hulking structure of gray stone, its roof partially collapsed, its walls cracked and leaning. Workers had gathered outside, perhaps thirty of them, men and women, their faces grim and unyielding. They had formed a rough barricade of broken timber and stones, and they were watching our approach with open hostility.

"That's far enough," one of them called. He was a broad-shouldered man with iron-gray hair and a face like chiseled stone. "We've said our piece to the King. We've nothing more to say."

I dismounted. Thankfully I had chosen a simple black gown for the occasion, so I was not as flamboyantly dressed as I usually was. My handmaidens moved to follow, but I held up a hand. "Wait here."

"Your Majesty..." Captain Aldric started.

"I'll be fine."

I walked toward the barricade alone. The workers shifted nervously. Their leader, the iron-haired man stepped forward, his hands clenched into fists.

"I said that's far enough."

"I heard you." I stopped a few feet away. "My name is Nyx. I'm the Queen Consort of Aurelia. And I've come to listen to your demands." 

The workers exchanged glances. They were suspicious and uncertain. A flicker of something that might have been hope.

"The Queen Consort," the leader repeated. "The one from Hel."

"Yes."

"They said you're a monster. And you eat human hearts for breakfast. You don't look particularly monstrous to me." 

"I only eat hearts on Tuesdays. Today, you're safe."

Silence. Then, from somewhere in the crowd, a snort of surprised laughter.

The leader's jaw tightened. "We're not here for jokes, Your Majesty. We're here because the King ignored us. We wrote our demands to the royal council, they refused to listen to us, they won't even let us see the  High King. Because of them, the mill collapsed and killed our friend. Because we've been working in that death trap for years, and no one, no one, has ever bothered to ask if we're all right."

"Then let me ask now." I met his eyes. "Are you all right?"

He stared at me. For a long moment, neither of us spoke.

Then his shoulders sagged. "No. We're not all right. We haven't been all right in a long time."