“It won’t be charity. But I want to help. In the name of the Forgotten.”
That last part felt a bit much, but the woman beamed at me and curtsied again.
I couldn’t settle as I walked on. People asking for my blessing was less frightening than people asking for my head, but I was no chosen one, no savior. This had to be Holt’s work, convincing people that the Forgotten had selected me somehow, but for people to believe that . . .
A few more people asked me to bless them, but most watched in silence, perhaps stretching to a tip of the hat or a curtsy. I could feel them assessing me, this unexpected queen walking through their streets.
The sky darkened as we left the main streets behind and headed into the more dangerous alleys beyond. I’d never stepped foot in this part of the city before. The buildings were crammed close together, bending slightly over the street, as though threatening anyone who dared walk beneath. The streets smelled, too, of waste and rot and too many bodies crammed together. Madeleine strode ahead, nodding for me to follow her. She led us deeper into the maze of streets, until she stopped before a rickety door. Young voices shouted from inside.
I forced myself to take a steadying breath as Madeleine knocked on the door.
The woman who finally answered was in her sixties, with cropped gray hair and wrinkles around her eyes. She looked completely exhausted, but she beamed when she saw Madeleine.
“Lady Madeleine!” she said. “You’re back. I’m so glad. I worried, when I heard what happened at the palace—”
“I wasn’t there, Susan,” Madeleine said. “I was all right. But I’ve brought you a visitor.” She gestured at me. “May I introduce you to Her Majesty, Queen Freya? I’ve told her all about your work here, and she wanted to come and visit.”
“Oh!” Susan stared at me for a long moment, her mouth open. Then she seemed to realize what she was doing, and sank into a curtsy. “It is an honor to have you here, Your Majesty. I’m afraid the place is a bit of a mess. The children, you know. They can be quite a handful.”
I wasn’t sure what to say in response to that, so I just nodded.
“Please. Come in, come in.” She tried to beckon Madeleine forward while also curtsying respectfully to me. She didn’t entirely succeed.
The inside of the building did not match Susan’s warm demeanor. The stone walls were damp and bare, with mold growing near the ceiling. A few cracks ran up from the floor, and the few pieces of furniture had more repairs than actual material. The sounds of children playing and screaming echoed from somewhere above us.
Susan must have seen my surprised expression. “I know, Your Majesty, it’s not suitable at all. But it’s the best we can do, really, with the money we have.”
“Can—can I help?”
“That’s very kind, Your Majesty. We always appreciate donations, of anything. Food and clothes and toys as well as money. But, well.” She pressed her lips together. “If you don’t mind my saying so, Your Majesty, we need a lot more. You’re helping us just by being here, making people take notice, but—the children need more than donations. They need more than this place.”
That was fairly clear. I’d always felt so sorry for myself, the awkward girl who never fit in, but I’d had a home, and my father, and enough money that I’d never even thought about it. I’d been such an idiot. “What happened to them?”
“Many things. They all lost their parents, one way or another. I used to just take in orphans, but when people heard about my work, they started leaving babies on the doorstep. There’s nowhere else for them to go, you know. The older ones are on the street otherwise, while the younger ones just starve.”
A little girl appeared in the doorway to the left. She had wisp-blond hair that hung to her waist, and freckles all over her face. She scowled at me. “Who are you?” The question came out as a challenge.
I moved closer to her. Her front tooth was missing. “I’m Freya,” I said. “I’m a friend of Madeleine’s. What’s your name?”
“Lucy.” She continued to scowl at me. “Have you come to play with us?”
I nodded, and Lucy reached out to grab my hand. “We don’t play in this room,” she said firmly. “It’s not allowed.”
“All right.”
Lucy looked me up and down again. “Are you a princess?”
“No,” I said softly. “Not a princess.”
“I’m so sorry, Your Majesty,” Susan said, hurrying forward. “Lucy, this is Queen Freya. She’s the woman in charge of the entire kingdom.”
Lucy did not look impressed. She stuck up her chin. “I’m going to be a princess,” she said, almost daring me to disagree. “When I’m grown up.”
“Lucy, I’ve told you,” Susan said, her voice harsher now. “Only very special people are queens and princesses. They’re not like you and me. I’m sorry,” she added again, seeming to address everyone in the room.
But I didn’t want her to be sorry. I knelt in front of Lucy. Small children usually made me uncomfortable—you never quite knew what they were going to do—but Lucy would clearly not accept uncertainty or dismissal. “I wasn’t a princess,” I said. “I was never one of those special people, and I became queen.”
Lucy nodded, like she suspected it all along. “We can only play in the playroom,” she said, as she let go of my hand. “You should come.” And she strode away.
“I mean no disrespect, Your Majesty,” Susan said, “but I do wish you hadn’t told her that. It’s no good to give them false hope. What these children need is food, a home, a chance for work when they’re older, maybe. Hope won’t keep them alive.”
After leaving our gift purses at the orphanage, our group began to walk back to the carriage. The driver had followed us most of the way through the streets, but the carriage couldn’t fit down the narrow alleys in this part of the city.
I was happy to walk again. It helped me think.
Playing with Lucy and the others had been surprisingly fun. She had a boldness that reminded me a little of myself when I was little, but was seemingly unconcerned with people’s reactions. It was impossible to be reticent around her.
She had been intelligent, too. Intelligent and brave. She’d achieve great things, if given the chance.
I moved to walk beside Holt. “I want to call a council meeting when we get back,” I said.
He nodded. “Are you planning to make a bigger donation?”
“I’m planning to get them what they need.” Surely I could find some way to fund a real place for the children to live.
Holt nodded again. “I’ll see that it’s done.”
TWENTY-TWO