“Noooo.” She drew out the word, the vocal equivalent of an eye roll. “I’m just wondering why you never mentioned that before. Why you’re keeping secrets, hmm? Why you didn’t get any work done, maybe?”
“It’s nothing like that. It’s—new. We talked, like I said, about the murders, and . . .” How could I possibly describe it? “He wasn’t what I expected.”
“So you invited him back to your lab?” She still spoke in that teasing, singsong voice, elongating her words, eyes dancing.
“He was just there, when I went to work the night before the funerals. And then last night, too. I think he’s lonely.”
“Yes, that’s why he keeps coming to your lab. He’s lonely.” She leaned in closer. “I think he likes you.”
I could feel myself blushing, but it was ridiculous. Nonsense. “Naomi, you haven’t even seen him.”
“As though he could possibly resist.”
“He could easily resist.” But my stomach twisted as I said it. Fitzroy didn’t like me, not like that, it was completely nonsensical. We were working.
“Wait,” Naomi said. “You actually like him. I was just teasing, but you actually like him. I can tell by your face.”
“I can’t like him. I barely know him.”
“But you like him.” The grin melted off Naomi’s face, and she sat back on her stool. “Oh, Freya, be careful,” she said, in her normal, steady voice again. “He’s the old king’s son.”
“I know that.” I scraped my fingers through my hair. “He’s just—not who I thought he was.”
“Who did you think he was?”
“Just—nobody. An idiot. You saw how he acted in court.”
“And who is he?”
The answer was too big, too nebulous, to put into words. “Fitzroy,” I said. “Just—Fitzroy.”
“Freya—” Her voice rose in warning, but I shook my head.
“We should get back to work. We have a lot of research to do.”
“All right,” she said slowly. “But if you want to talk—”
“I know.” But not then. Her teasing had knocked something loose inside me, like the realization that your finger hurt after someone pointed out it was bleeding. The knowledge buzzed at the edge of my thoughts, but I didn’t have time to examine it now, not with so much else going on.
I barely knew Fitzroy. He was an interesting person. That was all.
I had far more important things to worry about than him.
SEVENTEEN
THE TRIALS STARTED EARLY THE FOLLOWING morning.
I’d expected more of a mix of people, from what Norling had said, but only courtiers waited in the throne room, sitting on wooden benches. An aisle passed between them, leading to the throne. My council sat behind a large table, facing the rest of the court, and guards lined the walls.
This time, at least, someone had taken my skirts into consideration. I still wore about ten layers of them, but the wires were missing, making me look like a confection, but a human-sized one, and one that fit in the throne.
Even then, it was lucky I was tall. My long legs only just reached the floor when I sat. I forced myself to sit straight. I couldn’t let the throne overwhelm me. I had to look like I was in control.
Once everyone was settled and Norling had talked through the formalities, the guards led the server of the poisoned tarts into the room. She was trembling. Her black hair had matted around her shoulders, and she looked at the ground as she walked, chains rattling between her wrists.
“Felicia Cornwell,” Norling said. “You have admitted to attempting to poison your queen. If you name your co-conspirators, Her Majesty may see to have mercy on you.”
The woman continued to tremble. “I didn’t work with anyone. I acted alone.”
“You worked alone?” Norling said. “You found the poison alone, prepared the food alone, broke into the castle alone, got into Her Majesty’s rooms alone. Is that what you are claiming?”
“I was already a servant at the palace,” she said. “But—yes. I worked alone.”
“Tell us who you worked with,” Norling said, “or I will be forced to punish you for treason.”
The woman stared at the floor, her face ghost white, but she did not flinch. “I worked alone.”
But Norling was asking the wrong question, I thought. We could find out who she worked with ourselves, with the right information. If we wanted to understand the attacks, she was the only one who could help us. I leaned forward, steeling myself to speak before the crowd. “Why did you attack me?”
Norling stared at me. “Your Majesty?”
I continued to address the woman. “You must have had a reason for trying to kill me. You knew you’d end up here, whether or not you succeeded. You must have had a reason.”
The girl remained silent. I stared at her, willing her to speak. If she would just tell us, if she would just explain . . .
“Mistress Cornwell,” Norling said. “Her Majesty asked you a question.”
“Because of this!” she burst out. “All of this! The court with all its gold, while people outside it starve. You spend more on sweets than most people have to live on their whole lives. The Forgotten want to return, the deaths were a sign of that, but until we burn out this corruption, they never will!”
“Do all the Gustavites believe that?”
The woman’s expression closed off again. She stared at me again, her face red.
“His book—it doesn’t mention murder,” I said, trying to keep my voice as friendly as possible. I couldn’t let it shake. “I read it, to try and understand what you were fighting for. But it was a pretty peaceful book. Do you really think he wants you to do this?”
“Your Majesty—” Norling said, in a warning voice, but the woman seemed angrier now.
“We must burn out this corruption,” she said, meeting my gaze. Words from the book. But incomplete ones.
“We must burn out this corruption in ourselves,” I corrected. “Change must come from within. He never thought the Forgotten wanted us to become murderers. Has your group read his book, or just heard about it?”
“Most of them are fools,” she snapped, so angry now she didn’t seem to notice her mistake. “They think we can do this peacefully, and they’re wrong. He didn’t know what we would be up against. But the rest of us—we know. And so if I’m going to die—” Her voice caught on the word. “If I’m going to die, I want to do it stopping all of you.”
“You’re not going to die. We don’t execute people in Epria.”
The silence that followed was too sharp, too loud. “Your Majesty,” Norling said, rather carefully. “Epria has not executed a criminal in many decades, it is true, but that does not mean we should not respond to treason. One attack against you would be enough for that. And this woman may have been involved in murdering your predecessor, in slaughtering this entire court.”
“I was not!” The woman’s whole body shook. “That wasn’t me!”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“It was an opportunity,” she said, “but I wasn’t involved in the murders. You must believe me!”