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“No.”
I knew that deep voice. It wasn’t Sally Anne’s.
“Go away, Antonius,” I sobbed. “I don’t want to deal with anything today.”
“What youwantdoesn’t matter anymore. Get up and get dressed. You have a meeting with the High Council in less than an hour to plan your coronation.”
I shrieked and threw a pillow at him. “I’m not going! You can’t make me! It’s too cruel.”
He dodged the pillow, came over, and dragged the bedcovers off me. “Cruel? You want to talk about cruel? Cruel is leaving the fate of your people in the hands of that bunch of selfish, sanctimonious bastards. They’re just waiting for an excuse to challenge your right to rule. Acting like a helpless, grief-stricken little girl plays right into their hands.”
“I am a helpless, grief-stricken little girl,” I wailed.
He crossed his arms and glared at me. “Not today you aren’t. You’re the queen, the supreme ruler. So, start acting like it. Suck it up. Get out of bed and get dressed.”
“Did you just tell me tosuck it up?”
I’d known Antonius since the day I was born, as had my father before me. Dark and swarthy, he had the heavy brows and beaked nose of an Arab sheik. By my reckoning, he had to be nearly eighty, though he seemed ageless to me. He still had a full head of black hair without a touch of gray and exuded the power and vitality of a much younger man.
In his role as vizier, Antonius was stern. Austere. I’d seen grown men quake when he fixed those piercing black eyes on them. Next to my father, he was the most powerful person in the land because everyone knew he had the ear of the king. Though he came from humble beginnings, even the members of the High Council treated him with respect.
Although not a blood relative, he always treated me the way a kindly old uncle might. Respectfully affectionate, mildly indulgent. He’d never spoken a harsh word to me before. I sat up and stared at him, eyes wide.
“Yes. I said suck it up. You don’t have time to feel sorry for yourself. You father is dead, and you’re his only heir. He’s been grooming you for this day all your life.” Antonius’s voice dropped. “We both knew it was coming. Just not so soon.”
“They murdered him, Antonius! It had to be some kind of untraceable poison. I tried to tell the doctors, but they wouldn’t listen. Father was strong and healthy. He wouldn’t have simply dropped dead.”
Antonius nodded. “Yes.”
“You believe me?”
The old man sat down on a chair by the window, facing me. His expression was one of infinite tenderness, yet I sensed a controlled fury bubbling just under the surface.
“Melisandre, I hoped I could wait a while before having this talk with you. You’re right. Your father was murdered.”
I hopped out of bed, sank to my knees in front of his chair. “We have to do something! His killer is out there. We have to find him, bring him to justice.”
Antonius shook his head. His shoulders slumped. The glare of the morning sun revealed every line, every wrinkle on his face, and I saw him for the first time for what he was. A tired old man, weary of keeping up the pretense of strength and vitality. His king, his dearest, oldest friend, was dead. He, too, was mourning a terrible loss.
That’s the moment I grew up. Quit thinking only of myself. Found the strength to put aside my own pain and reach out to comfort another.
I swiped my tears away and laid a hand on his. “I’m sorry for your loss, Antonius. I know you and my father were very close.”
“I loved him like a son, my lady.” His shoulders heaved with the effort of holding back a sob. I watched as he swallowed and pulled his shoulders back, marveling at the inner strength it took to put aside such a crushing burden and move on. Though only moments ago I’d thought myself a grownup, I realized I had many lessons still to learn from Antonius.
“There is no need to puzzle out your father’s killer. I know who murdered him.”
“Let’s go! You can tell the palace guards who it is. They’ll scour the kingdom day and night until we find him and make him pay for his crime.” I jumped up, ready to dash from the room, forgetting I was still in my nightdress.
He caught my hand between his. Though his skin was dry and papery, his grasp was as strong as that of a man in his prime.
“It is not that simple, my lady. But I cannot explain all that you need to know. You must visit the Oracle. She will tell you of the prophecy and the grave duty that has fallen on your shoulders.”
“Prophecy?”
“You would have learned of it many years from now, had the gods granted your father a long life. The day after your coronation, as all our rulers have for the last millennium.” He sighed heavily. “All our sovereigns have learned the terrible knowledge, taken the secret to their grave. But your young shoulders must bear the ultimate burden.”
Prophecy? Oracle? I stared at the old man. Had grief over my father’s death unhinged his mind? There were no Oracles. They were a myth, a legend of the past, like shape-shifters and ogres, and the old belief about how people became feeble-minded. The one where evil spirits entered the bodies of hapless infants as they slumbered in their cribs and stole their minds and souls, leaving only the shell behind.
