“Prince Colin’s steward was executed several days ago.” Paige’s tone was empty. “He instructed me as best he could in the time we had, but Patrick— You know Patrick. He didn’t even trust an old man. He put me in charge of running the castle.”
Yes, I knew Patrick. “Do you like it? Doing this?”
She nodded quickly. “I don’t mind the assignment. It’s better than what we had to do before we took the city.”
Melanie and Oscar nodded, too.
“Very well. You’ll keep this job until we hire someone who won’t one day have to run her own estate.” I glanced at Melanie and Oscar. “That goes for you two as well. We’ll continue like this for now, but eventually you’ll need to deal with your family inheritances, such as they are.”
“I’ll add that to the list for after your coronation,” Paige said.
James muttered agreement, politely not reminding me to wait for a coronation if I wanted to keep peace with the Indigo Kingdom. “Best to keep people you trust close by for now. Take the rest as it comes.” He placed his blue notebook on the writing desk. “There’s a letter here for you.”
My heart gave a painful lurch. I gave Paige a few more instructions regarding interviews and the upcoming days, and finally everyone began to make their exits. Paige pointed out my belongings, already delivered from the convoy, and Oscar announced he’d check to see who was guarding the wraith boy’s new storage room before returning to take his post at my door.
“You don’t have to stay there all night,” I said.
He waved that away. “Someone does. You just released dozens of soldiers and people loyal to Prince Colin, and not to mention welcomed a thousand of his men into Aecor City. The Red Militia will keep an eye on them, but remember they’re not happy with you, either. You’ve imprisoned Patrick and you’re working with Prince Colin. That’s why they instigated that riot when you arrived.”
“Plus the people who aren’t on either side, but are terrified you’ll use the wraith boy against them,” added Melanie.
“Fine.” I dropped my shoulders as James, Oscar, and Paige headed out. “Everyone wants me dead. One day that will be out of fashion, I hope.”
“You have me. I don’t want you dead.” Melanie started to hug me, but paused halfway there. “You also have a smell. I’ll start your bath. We’ll catch up after you’ve washed off the last week.”
If only it were that easy.
When she disappeared to the washroom, I sat down at the writing desk and opened James’s notebook to find the letter from Tobiah.
Wilhelmina,
I must have read your account of the Snowhaven Bridge events a hundred times by now. I can’t say I’m happy about what happened, but I think I understand. The decision to save my uncle, of all people, must have been a difficult one.
Well, now that you have declared yourself queen, will you make it official with a coronation? You must be eager, but I am hoping you will wait, at least for now, while I try to sort this out with Uncle Colin. I expect to receive an angry letter from him any day now.
Sincerely,
Tobiah Pierce
I let his note sit as I poked through the inks on my mother’s desk. They were probably bad by now.
But when I opened a jar of sepia, there was no mold or anything else untoward. Paige—or her predecessor—must have replaced them. The nibs, too, looked shiny and new, not a speck of rust in sight.
Tobiah,
I will wait for a coronation. There’s enough to keep me busy even without making it official. My arrival—with your uncle at my side—triggered a Red Militia riot tonight. I’m still waiting for a report on how many were injured.
Before, I wanted nothing more than to return to Aecor and become queen. But after spending time with you in Skyvale Palace, I’ve realized how unprepared I really am. I don’t know what made me think I would be a good queen because I was born to it. Or because I ran off to the wraithland. Or because I was willing to do questionably moral things for my people.
I’d even just told James I wasn’t certain anymore . . . and then it was give in to Patrick’s demands, or watch him kill your uncle.
Immediately after, James warned me about new guards wanting favors, needing to write to the families of the dead—all things I would have gotten to . . . eventually. But as a queen, they should have been my first thoughts. My responsibility to my people.
I’m not ready for this. Not like you are.
(And now the words are on paper and I can’t take them back. Sometimes I hate ink. It’s so permanent.)
Wil
I blew on the page, half thinking I should leave puddles of ink in a few strategic places, but Melanie returned just as I was ready to accidentally tip a jar of ink onto the entire notebook.
“Ready?” she asked.
For a bath? Yes. For whatever came next? Absolutely not.
I pushed myself up and started after her, but paused when I spotted a door. “That leads to the king’s chambers?”
My father’s chambers.
Melanie nodded. “There are two doors. Both are locked.”