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“I will answer when you grant me a parley, and not before,” the man says through a seething grimace.
“The time for diplomacy ended when Queen Neilina had my parents murdered. We will get the answers out of you, one way or another.” The smile Zander levels the prisoners is menacing. It quickly sours. “And then you will face execution for your crimes against our people. Get them out of my sight—”
“Your Highness, if I may.” Lord Adley steps forward and offers a shallow bow that hints to how highly he considers himself.
I dislike him already.
“What is it, Lord Adley?”
“I think I speak for all in the court when I say we would like to hear what the princess of Ybaris has to say. After all, these are her subjects.” Coal-black eyes that match his daughter’s flicker to me.
Look hateful, stay quiet. Those things, I can do. Speaking to all these people was not part of the plan.
“Her Highness has not yet been crowned and is not required to speak on matters of the court,” Zander says coolly, but his body radiates tension, his fingers within mine clenching.
“But you have obviously placed such value in Her Highness’s opinion, given you have her seated on the throne before her coronation, or even an exchange of vows. A bold move, its first in Islor’s history, I dare say. Surely the court, as your humble servants, could all benefit in hearing from such an esteemed voice in your ear.” He glances around the room, as if searching for support. Numerous heads bob.
Zander was right. Adley is a beguiling snake. Shrewd too. He’s made it difficult for Zander to deny him without discrediting my opinion, which then begs the question—why am I on this throne today? Besides to look pretty and whisper and hold hands, which is exactly what I’ve been doing.
A queen without gumption. Too delicate to rule. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was Adley or Saoirse who started those whispers, especially given Saoirse now stands behind her father wearing a smug smile.
My anger flares. They mean to make me look the idiot in front of all these people.
Beside me, Zander’s teeth grind. “As I’ve already—”
“What is it you would like to hear, Lord Adley?” My voice sounds foreign as it carries through the massive hall. Zander squeezes my hand in warning. I squeeze back, my heart hammering. As much as I’d prefer to shrink into the shadows, I haven’t survived this long by playing the lamb when a wolf is needed. “That my mother betrayed me? That she has committed atrocities? That she is consumed with her own agenda and will stop at nothing to get what she wants, including sacrificing her daughter?” All things that are true of my mother, and probably also of Queen Neilina. “My mother is dead to me. Is that what you wish to hear?”
“It is … uh … reassuring, yes.” Lord Adley falters a moment. He nods to the line of prisoners. “And what of these men?”
“What of them?” I throw back, allowing irritation to seep into my tone, even as my hand trembles within Zander’s. Thankfully, we’re too far and high up for anyone to see. “They’ve conspired to commit murders in their queen’s name, and they deserve to be punished for it. Your king has already deemed it so. What more value could I possibly add to that?”
Adley’s brow pulls together, his surprise apparent.
“I’m sorry, were you expecting a different response? Or a different queen? Perhaps a witless fool too flimsy for a throne?”
Lord Adley’s eyes flash wide. “Your Highness. I would never suggest such a thing—”
“I should hope not.”I’m waiting for Zander to squeeze my hand in warning again, to tell me to shut my mouth, but he remains motionless. Still, I’m probably not doing a convincing job of playing the old Romeria. “I apologize if I don’t sound like myself to those who know me, but I suppose being so deeply betrayed by my people has hardened my heart. I do not feel any love or loyalty for Ybaris nor for anyone who schemes to harm us.”
I steal a pointed glance at Saoirse, who looks like she’s sucking on an especially bitter pill. “But I do appreciate that you value my opinion so highly, Lord Adley, that you would urge me to speak today, even though I am not yet officially queen. We thank Kettling for their support of this union.”
Beside me, Zander makes a sound.
“Yes, Your Highness.” He pauses. “And perhaps you would deem a royal repast at the coming Cirilean fair to celebrate delivering justice to our enemies. And, of course, this coming union.” He gestures toward us.
Repast. Zander had used that word before. I don’t know what it means, but I understand the words fair and celebrate. I don’t dare look to Zander for approval. “Yes, I believe that would be in order.”
A buzz erupts in the crowd with conflicting expressions of everything from glee to dismay. It stirs my unease. What have I just agreed to?
“Very well.” He offers a much deeper bow this time.
“The Legion will guard and interrogate the prisoners,” Zander says coolly.
Abarrane’s lips peel back in a sinister smile that makes me struggle not to cringe.
“Your Highness, if I may suggest …” Apparently Adley isn’t finished, his attention back to Zander. “I’m sure I speak for many again when I say the court would appreciate a public interrogation of the Ybarisans. I believe it would alleviate any concerns that might linger—”
“The Legion will guard and interrogate,” Zander repeats, his tone sharp as he cuts off Adley. “And anyone who interferes with their work in any way will land themselves in the square by dawn for treason, without a trial. That will be all.” Zander stands and guides me to my feet and down the steep steps by our joined hands to the sound of murmurs.
At the bottom, we veer left, away from the crowd and toward a small door at a quick pace. The guard opens it for us, and we take the long hallway in silence. Zander does not pull away immediately as he usually does, not until we pass through a second door and enter the round, windowless room with the map. It’s empty, save for us.
The moment the door clicks shut, he spins me around. “Who are you?” he demands.
