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CHAPTER 6
The stomping in the hallway had started early this morning when I was still lying in bed—awake of course, like every night. The castle was as busy as a morning at the Sunday market. Servants were rushing around like busy bees, eagerly contributing their share to make the crowning ceremony tomorrow a success. Kings and noble families from kingdoms far and near had accepted my invitation. Every room at the castle and even the inn and taverns was reserved; the number of people attending the festivals in town was expected to exceed even my own father’s crowning. They all wanted to see that famous Night Queen and hear more of the stories that had started to spread like wildfire about her bravery with the sword in the face of death. Every musician with a flute or guitar was now making rhymes about it. Even the children’s puppeteers were using the story as well.
Someone had spread those ridiculous—and yet helpful—rumors, a priceless favor I didn’t know who to thank for.
I was looking at myself in the large mirror, wearing my father’s simple golden crown, a mere ring on my head. My hair was pinned back as always, and I was dressed in an all-black silk gown that looked modest but was a masterpiece of craftsmanship with fine stitching. Frida was straightening a few wrinkles from my long train in the back, sighing every time she found another one. This was the color I would wear until my father was buried. His body was already on the way here with a large escort. After the whole showdown in the courtyard with Gunther, I couldn’t leave him up at Castle Fellsbruck. So I had instructed Malick to continue his research here, setting a deadline for his work for a few days after his arrival. The funeral could not be delayed much longer. Gunther had been using my father’s corpse to sway public favor against me.
A knock distracted me from my thoughts, and the hopeful, foolish child inside of me willed it to be Alrick on the other side of that door. I had sent out an invitation to him for my crowning, but would he show? Or had he stopped believing that I could keep the throne after all?
I was about to tell whoever knocked to enter when the door opened without my permission and Gunther walked in as if it was a public garden. This man had made himself at home in the castle as if he were my father. He had moved himself from his old quarters at the Rhine Dome in town into one of the finest apartments of the west wing, commanding servants around like slaves. And even worse, he had used every opportunity he could get to diminish me in front of my people and the nobles.
“I could have been dressing,” I remarked, throwing him a disapproving glance in the mirror.
“A sight not suitable for a man,” Frida sassed, her eyes narrowed at him in annoyance. She was a God-fearing woman, but even Frida couldn’t help but dislike this man, who she told me once was as far from God as the devil himself.
“In the eyes of God, his children all look the same,” Gunther said, licking his lips as his gaze found my silken undergarments that were hanging over a chair. “The Lord doesn’t look at women this way,” he added.
“God is watching me from above, not from within these walls through the eyes of others,” I said and focused my gaze on myself again in the mirror.
It was a constant balancing act with this man, to put him in his place without disrespecting or angering him too much. Until I was crowned queen and had the support of my people, I had to think twice before angering the church. Especially considering the situation with my father and the North, who my people still blamed for his death.
“Some noble families and brothers at the church have asked me again about the timing of the crowning and the funeral of our mighty king,” Gunther informed me. “I’m trying hard, My Queen, but I think I’m failing to make them see the logic in all of this. Could you explain it to me again? Some of them are starting to wonder if it all might be too much for our young and inexperienced queen, and if it might not be wiser to postpone the crowning for now. Her Majesty knows she can trust me to guide her and this kingdom wisely.”
I hated this man. I did. Wimfred had reported about his activities rallying the most religious of the noble families to support a rule of the church—which, of course, had nothing to do with the church itself but this snake of a man who simply wanted the throne for himself.
“You are too kind, Gunther, but I’m afraid with these uncertainties regarding the North, my people need to have structure. The turmoil of a transition of power can be a lot for everybody. We need to settle it quickly. For the people, of course.”
A sparkle flickered in Gunther’s eyes. “Yes, the situation with the North is rather unnerving to many. Most of us believe it was those barbaric Northern rebels who killed our dear king. If not for King Algar, who informed me of their hatred for the king and, well, you, those rebels might have gotten away with it.”
I froze in shock, my eyes locking on his as a cold sensation hit my stomach like a blizzard. I almost turned around to face Gunther, when I reminded myself of Wimfred’s advice to never show emotion in front of this man. He was as cunning as they came, Wimfred had told me. Every smile or tear would give him information to use, one way or another. He’d see my plans as clear as a candle in the darkness.
Holding my breath and counting to ten, I redirected my eyes back at myself in the mirror.
“Interesting...The rebels, you say?”
Gunther analyzed me, then shrugged. “That’s what they say, and if that’s true, King Algar would make an invaluable ally to punish those barbarians.”
I focused on breathing carefully. For the first time, it struck me that my father’s murderer might have a strong ally inside my castle already.
“We don’t know who killed my father,” I said, my voice almost trembling.
Did this man have anything to do with it? I wanted to turn around and grab Gunther by his golden cloak to shake the truth out of him. I felt my foot turn. Dear God, was I about to do it?
A warm hand squeezed on my arm. Frida had gotten a hold of me and was looking into my eyes.
“We...” I said, steadying my breath as my fists clenched. “We don’t have any proof that my father didn’t die of natural causes,” I lied.
Gunther briefly narrowed his eyes at me, then nodded. I thought this would be the end to this dreadful conversation, but then the corners of his thin lips curled up into a disgusting smile.
“Before I forget,” he said and placed a note on the table next to my silk couch. “You have an urgent message. I came to deliver it to you right away as it is, well, of very personal substance.”
This time I turned and finally faced him. How the hell did he get this note if it was addressed to me? Was Gunther this powerful in the castle already? Were my people more loyal to him than me? Everybody at the castle had strict instructions that besides myself, only Frida, Dieter, and Wimfred were to handle my letters.
His grin widened. He knew what I was thinking.
“Too kind,” I said, faking a smile. “Now, will you excuse me? I have preparations to make for the ceremony.”
“Of course. Oh, one last thing,” he said. “Shall we all dress in black during the crowning? Many are confused about it. Again, the strange timing of such cheerful celebrations in times of such a great loss.”
