And so we were surprising them. I wasn’t sure that was safer, considering how they might react, but I wasn’t going to shake in my resolve now.
I cared more about fashion that morning than I ever had before. I tried on five different crowns and tiaras, not wanting to look too extravagant, not wanting to hide the fact that I was queen. Eventually, I settled for a simple diadem, the Star of Valanthe hanging around my neck.
Fog had settled low over the city, cloaking the alleyways, making the world feel close. Nothing seemed to exist beyond my carriage, my guards, and our small stretch of road as we proceeded through the quiet.
I was going to be sick. It was all I could think about. I was always nervous before speaking, often forgot how to breathe, but now I truly, genuinely felt like the contents of my stomach were about to spill all over the carriage floor. What was I doing?
The right thing, I told myself. The thing I needed to do.
It wasn’t much comfort, as acid bubbled in my throat. My fingers tingled with the beginnings of panic, but I counted my breath, willing it away.
The carriage stopped outside a nondescript manor house on a normal-looking street. I stepped out, ordering myself not to vomit. It wasn’t that it was dangerous, although that should really have been my concern. It was that I didn’t know what to expect. I had no idea what I was walking into, and yet I needed to speak to them. I knew these people hated me, and I still needed to try and change their minds. It wasn’t exactly a task I was well suited for.
But I was here. I could do this.
A couple of guards went ahead, to announce my arrival. I’d instructed them to be as nonthreatening as possible, but I still cringed as they knocked on the door. If this ended in violence . . .
It didn’t. They were too sensible for that, at least. Better to pretend it was a normal gathering, to deny and deny until the lie sounded like truth. The man who answered the door remained calm, not betraying even a flash of concern when he saw the guards. When my men told him that I wished to speak to them, with no mention of who we believed they were, he bowed without hesitation, his lips forming words of joyful surprise. Inside, people must have been scrambling to hide anything suspect, but the man was the picture of calm.
He bowed again as I approached.
“It is good to meet you,” I said.
“And you, Your Majesty.”
He was a good actor. He would have done well in court.
He led me and two of my guards through the entrance hall and into a busy sitting room. A mishmash of people had gathered there, from boys younger than me to a woman with ghost-white hair and more wrinkles than skin. Some were dressed in rough cotton and wool, some finer clothes, a couple dressed like the lower edges of nobility—people from all parts of the city, all parts of life, perhaps thirty of them in all. The group was bigger than my court.
They weren’t all as good at acting as the man who opened the door. Fear vibrated through the room, and while some looked at me with wide, uncertain eyes, others looked almost aggressive, their expressions daring me to challenge them. They would be the ones to watch.
No one moved to acknowledge my arrival. They all seemed too startled, or else too angry. I guessed it would never have crossed their minds that the queen might stroll into their meeting this afternoon and give them a not-quite-natural little smile. If the king had walked into my home a month ago, I’d have fallen over my own feet in shock, and I had seen him frequently, even if it was usually from afar.
No one spoke. They didn’t seem to know what to do. “Thank you,” I said eventually. I didn’t vomit on them—the first success of the meeting. “Thank you for agreeing to see me.”
More stares. Then the elderly woman near the door seemed to remember herself. “Your Majesty.” She stood, slowly, and began to curtsy. Her face contorted from the effort, like she was in pain.
“No, no,” I said quickly, darting forward and putting my hand on her arm. “Don’t worry about that. We aren’t in court.”
“No,” a man said. “No, that we’re not.” He was one of the aggressive ones, with a voice sharp as wire.
The elderly woman stared at my hand. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said eventually.
She didn’t want me to touch her, I realized. I quickly let go.
“Was there something you wished to say to us, Your Majesty?” the aggressive man said. “It must be important, for you to have come personally.”
“I like to say things for myself. And hear them for myself. I think it’s easier to get the truth that way.” I was still standing in the doorway. I considered walking forward, finding somewhere to sit. But perhaps it was better to stand. To not get too friendly. “I wanted to hear what you had to say. You’re—I know you care about Epria, I know that. And things are changing now, as I’m sure you’ve seen. I wanted to know what you think. About the kingdom. I’ve read the original pamphlet, of course, but—” I ran out of momentum. It hadn’t exactly been the eloquent plea I’d been hoping for.
Again, everyone was silent. The wary still looked wary, the angry still looked angry, and more people looked confused. “What pamphlet, Your Majesty?” the aggressive man said. Like I was trying to trick him into admitting treason.
“Gustav’s Treatise.”
“Never heard of it,” the man grunted.
“Really? It’s been all over the city.”
A round-faced girl near the window spoke up. “Why did you allow it again? I thought it was forbidden.”
I considered her. “I don’t think knowledge can be a bad thing. And banning something doesn’t make it disappear. It just lets people twist it. People a hundred years ago might not have liked it, but I thought it had good ideas, too. The court is wasteful. I don’t agree with radicalism, or with murder. But perhaps if people read his actual words, they might rethink that. It seemed important.”
“So you think people misunderstand him?” the aggressive man sneered.
“I think he’s not as controversial as some people might believe. And I wanted people to know that—I understand.”
“Forgive my rudeness, Your Majesty,” said the man who opened the door, “but I don’t see why you are telling us this.”
This definitely wasn’t what I had imagined. I’d hoped for some reaction. But it would be all right. It was all right. No violence, no danger. I could say my piece, and maybe it would linger here. Have an effect in time.
“I just wanted everyone to know that—anyone involved in attempted murder, or in hurting anybody, will be punished, of course. But others . . . I want new ideas in my kingdom. I want things to be better than they’ve been before. If people want that . . . you’re welcome here. As long as it’s peaceful. And I guess that’s all I came to say. And if you have anything to say to me . . . come to the Fort. I do want to hear.”
Still no reaction. I nodded at them, once, and turned to leave.