Claire gave a small bow. “Tomorrow, after you’re crowned, I’ll be there to swear my fealty and accept the position. I’ll fight for your causes.”
I saluted, a snap and thump. “Until tomorrow, Claire.”
Melanie and I were out the door and halfway back to the castle when she asked, “Are you sure you can trust her? She could be angling for a place closer to you to do more of Patrick’s work.”
“Am I sure? No.” We dodged a cart and group of people selling raw fish. “The Grays can keep an eye on her, but she’s risked her neck for me for months. I want to trust her. What do you think?”
“She was loyal to Patrick during the fighting, because she believed he’d make things right. If she truly believes you’re on the same path, with less bloodshed, she’ll be loyal to you.”
“Well, then I just have to be sure I don’t fail her.” Or anyone else.
An entire kingdom was counting on me.
Paige walked with us on our way to the prison.
“I’ve been preparing the throne room for tomorrow’s ceremony,” she said. “And the ballroom for the celebratory ball.”
The frivolous ball, but I didn’t say it out loud. It was necessary to keep peace with certain traditions. “What’s your progress?”
“Your mother’s crown has already been removed from the vault and is being cleaned right now.” Paige checked her list. “Oh, and Rosanne Wallace will fit you for the coronation and ball gowns the minute you can stand still.”
“Will she have time to make them?”
“They’re both already finished. They just need alterations. I hear Rosanne started working on the ball gown the day you arrived.” Paige winked. “People have been waiting ten years for this. The anniversary, your coronation, Aecor’s independence once more. Tomorrow will be glorious.”
So much pressure on one day.
“You’re doing a fine job. Let me know if there’s anything else you need.” I left Paige to her work and headed toward the prison with Melanie.
Sergeant Wallace was on duty in the guard room, along with a few other men in blue. They stood and bowed when I entered, and I took the time to meet their eyes and greet them by name.
Was one of these men the traitor? Or someone else?
“I need the visitor logs.” I didn’t move from my position, letting a guard named Jonah Hudson bring the current list to me.
“I’ll fetch the older logs for you.” He went to one of the filing cabinets and began pulling folders.
While I skimmed through the lists of names, looking for anyone who visited frequently or at odd times, Melanie moved around the room, scanning desks and shelves.
“Is there something I can help you find, Your Majesty?” Sergeant Wallace asked. Like the others, he stood at his desk, a hint of anxiety in his eyes and posture. That could be attributed to anything, though: my coronation, the bridge collapse, the fact that I was visiting the prison.
Or it could be guilt.
“No, Sergeant, thank you.”
This uncertainty was awful. I should be able to trust the people under my command. It was one of the lessons Tobiah had been most insistent I learn. And I was trying, but if one of these people was a traitor . . .
When Sergeant Hudson brought another handful of folders to me, I flipped through and pulled out the ones dated since Patrick’s incarceration. I gave the remaining folders back to him and turned to Melanie. “Ready?”
She gave a clipped nod, but her eyes spoke differently. Was anyone ever ready to interrogate someone like Patrick?
Not just someone like Patrick, but the man she’d been in love with? The man she’d thought she could redeem?
The man who turned out to be a murderer?
As we entered the cell block, I took her hand in mine. “I’m counting on you. You know him better than anyone.”
“I’ll do my best.” She pulled back to straighten her clothes and run her fingers through her hair. Then we strode down the hall, between the cells holding almost a hundred Red Militia members.
Most of them ignored us, but a few jeered, some called me “Indigo whore,” while others called out that Queen Wilhelmina was here, and everyone should behave. I didn’t look directly at any of them, just kept my head high as Melanie and I made our way to Patrick’s cell at the far end of the hall.
He was sitting, elbows on his knees and hands clasped before him. His short hair had grown a few finger lengths, and stubble covered his chin and throat, but when he looked up, his expression was as hard as ever.
“Wilhelmina.” He didn’t blink as he assessed my appearance. “You should get more sleep. You look exhausted.”
“I’ve been too busy chasing your Red Militia.”
“And after all that work seizing your kingdom for you.” The words were flip, but there was no humor in his tone. “You should show some gratitude.”
“There was an explosion on Snowhaven Bridge earlier. Did you organize that?”
He gestured around his cell. “I’ve been in here, Wilhelmina. Tell me how I could do anything.”
“How are you communicating with the Red Militia?”
Silence.
“The Red Militia is coming together again. What is the purpose?”