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No, this little slice of heaven wasn’t essential. That much the voice got right. However, Ambrose couldn’t find it in herself to leave it behind. This was another little secret the queen had kept even from her favorite sister whom she’d always been prone to telling the truth to.
Taking a long inhale that reached down to the bottom of her lungs, the queen pulled the lid from the box and glanced inside. A red velvet interior kept her collection of odds and ends safe. Scraps of a flag, crossing arrows with red tips faded on its edge. An old brooch. A small, very dull, dagger. An outdated map of Pasia rolled tightly and bound by twine, the edges yellow and curling.
To the average eye, the contents might look like nothing but scraps of garbage, but to Ambrose they were treasure. Each item was a clue to something bigger than her, something she’d been a part of without ever knowing until it was too late. Everything she’d collected was a part of the Fae history, a long story that intertwined with her own. Vaguely she remembered once hating the Fae; she supposed she was still very wary of them considering there was no doubt the king wanted her dead, but for the most part she was intrigued by them.
There was a lump forming in her throat as she thought about the man who inspired her small collection. Though if he ever found out she might die of embarrassment. Her cheeks reddened at the mere thought.
A knock at her door forced a sharp breath down her throat. The lid to the box clattered back down to hide its contents. Her fingers trembled as she adjusted the lid and shoved the entire box into the canvas bag at her feet.
“Queen Ambrose?” a familiar voice called.
Ambrose hurried to put the books back in place on the shelf as she cleared her throat to answer. “Yes?”
Though her staff tried their hardest to keep the old building she’d claimed as her castle well managed, the hinges of the door still groaned. A slim oval face leached of its usual flushed coloring appeared. Oliver pushed back his black hair and squinted at Ambrose through thick round glasses. His lips were pulled into a tight frown that stretched impossibly far across his face. The queen always thought her butler had an unnerving look about him, perhaps that’s why the servants feared him so much.
Today his navy-blue uniform was more wrinkled than usual, the sleeves hastily shoved up over his forearms. His throat bobbed as he swallowed and kept his lips tightly pressed together as he averted his eyes. She’d nearly forgotten that she hadn’t dressed herself yet.
The queen walked silently to the door of her powder room, grabbing the robe that hung on its backside and shrugged it on over the thin slip gown. She tied it tightly to her waist as she made her way back to the bookshelf, careful to avoid kicking the packed bag.
When Oliver’s eyes slid back to her, he still hadn’t spoken, and his skin was starting to take on a sickly green hue. Her body felt weighted, her limbs sluggish as she stuffed her hands into the pockets of her robe. Ambrose already knew what Oliver was here to say. She’d known the moment she was woken from her sleep. Still, her chest seized and her stomach clenched into a thousand little knots.
The inside of her mouth felt dry as cotton. No matter how she tried to swallow to appease the dryness her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Each passing heartbeat felt like a millennium as she stared at Oliver expectantly. Only when she let out a soft impatient sigh did he finally find the courage to speak up.
“I come with bad news.” Those bright green eyes shifted to the bag on the ground at her feet. His brows puckered. “You may want to sit for this.”
Heavy steps made for the small decorative chair that made up part of the queen’s reading nook. The wooden legs scratched at the ground as he spun it toward the queen and waited.
Nervousness bubbled up in her stomach. By the time the feeling reached her chest, it had started to burst into tiny sparks of impatience. Inside the warm pockets of her robe, her fingers clenched into fists. Ambrose tapped her foot to try and release an ounce of the terrifying emotions that threatened to consume her. Holding her gaze on Oliver, she refused to blink for fear that she might be caught with a tear rolling down her cheek. She tried and failed to think of ways to suck the stupid little tears back up into her tear ducts.
“I’d rather stand.” Her raw voice gave away the sweeping flood of feelings.
Oliver blinked rapidly as he registered the queen’s unusual show of humanity. “I’m not sure how to tell you this.” He wrung his hands in front of him, gold rings along his fingers glistening. “Queen Farah was found dead in her castle. Along with her chosen suitor.”
Ambrose let out a long breath. There it was. The news she’d dreaded but had seen coming long in advance. She’d tried to warn her dear sister that Sienna’s staff would only leave her cursed. Her lips quivered, bouncing from a frown to a wry smile.
Her butler took a subtle step back as the queen let out a laugh. The robe fluttered at her knees with the sudden shake of her shoulders and the tremble that made its way down to her toes. She recognized the fear and confusion in Oliver’s eyes—it was a look she’d been receiving more often than not the past year.
“Queen Ambrose?” the man who feared no one except his queens squeaked.
“I know.” Ambrose laughed, rubbing her palm against her wet eyelashes to brush away the droplets that finally managed to overflow.
“Pardon me?”
“I know,” she reiterated, working to regain some of her composure. “I know.”
Oliver’s fingers curled in and out of his palms at his side. “You know about Queen Farah already?” The worry in his gaze flared.
How could she know already? She’s shouldn’t have known.Oh gods, he must think I killed my own sister.That passing thought instantly sobered her.
Her still trembling fingers smoothed over her robe as she trained her face into the most neutral expression she could muster. “Please take your time to inform the staff to prepare their families. My suggestion is to find each and every one of yourselves a nice little hiding spot.”
He said nothing, only stared at her as if mesmerized.
“How far has the news of my sister’s death traveled?” Ambrose picked up her bag, walking the few feet to her unmade bed, and set it down.
The chime of the metal on her trinket box rattling against itself snapped Oliver from his stupor. “I—uh…” He sniffled before settling on one word. “Far.”
Ambrose nodded, her curls bouncing. “War is coming to Pasia again. See to it that your family is taken care of.” The queen’s eyes still felt damp with unshed tears, the ones that even the laughter couldn’t shake out of her.
