Matthias passed me a list of names in code. I’d kept the northern nobles on side for years, but Opposition support was my best weapon against Vigrante. Alexandris’s political career was stable and mediocre – not the makings of a strong leader.
I tapped the list of names. ‘Any proof they’re in Vigrante’s pocket?’
He passed me a sheet of numbers. ‘With the old King’s coin.’
My uncle had been an over-generous ruler. As his health had declined again this year, the Master of Coin started giving me copies of the financial reports. I wouldn’t know how bad the debt was until our first meeting, but I didn’t hold out much hope for the Royal Treasury’s prospects.
Matthias glanced around the study. ‘Needs a change,’ he said.
‘I was considering redecorating in red. The dark green will be depressing in winter. Speaking of green’ – I tried and failed for casualness – ‘what happened to the gentleman with the green velvet waistcoats? I thought it was going well.’
‘The green velvet gentleman decided I was too boring. Or I thought he was. We were too boring for each other,’ Matthias said. ‘This isn’t the time to discuss my love life.’
Taking a moment for him, even three sentences, would hardly bring the country to a standstill. ‘I need a meeting with Alexandris,’ I said, instead of asking, When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me? ‘He has to stick his neck out more.’
‘Easily done.’ Matthias hesitated. ‘And my recommendation for dealing with Vigrante?’
I clenched my jaw. ‘My opinion hasn’t changed.’
‘My concern hasn’t changed, Your Majesty.’
‘My opinion outranks your concern.’ When I’d returned north, Matthias had stayed in Arkaala as my eyes and ears. I’d known he would be eager when I was Queen. But his eagerness often turned into overconfidence. I didn’t enjoy reminding him of his place, but I wouldn’t let him control me as Vigrante had controlled Uncle.
‘I presume the money Uncle promised would have come from taxes?’ I asked.
Matthias nodded.
‘The Court won’t support reforms if I disregard Uncle’s promises.’
Matthias’s nostrils flared. ‘Your uncle unclipped Vigrante’s leash and let him run wild with promises. He didn’t care, once he had his wine, and food, and his entertainment. Your aunt didn’t care, once she had her wine, new clothes, and her entertainment.’
‘Killing Vigrante won’t win me the Court’s favour,’ I said flatly.
I rose and went around the desk towards the bookshelves. Most of these books were usually found in Step libraries, nothing that truly indicated Uncle’s tastes. I trailed my fingers across the spines and paused at a volume of war poetry. The poet had risen to prominence during Great-Grandfather’s reign. My grandfather had later quoted his best-known poems to justify his aggressive rule.
I didn’t enjoy war poetry.
Matthias and I had spent years debating how Vigrante would fight my legislation and turn the Government against me. And since he’d entered politics, there had been deaths. All apparently natural, of course. Nothing led back to him. Nothing could be proven. Vigrante’s hands looked clean.
Killing him wouldn’t help me. I had to secure my own power base first. But I was royalty, born from a noble house. Vigrante had no bloodline to fall back upon, only a political title and a rise to power through allegiances built on Uncle’s coffers. Such allegiances always turned fragile, eventually. I wanted Vigrante gone. If I cut him from the Treasury purse-strings, his own allies could destroy him for me. I just had to survive the fallout.
Surviving a political fallout brought me to another matter. ‘Have you made progress on my Whispers?’
Matthias could juggle being my secretary and temporary Whispers for only so long. He’d kept my position at Court secure up until now, but a proper Whispers would keep me alive.
‘I have someone in mind,’ he said. ‘Xania Bayonn. Lady Harynne’s daughter.’
‘And the late Baron Bayonn’s daughter.’
Most people wouldn’t have interpreted Matthias’s face spasm as old grief, but most hadn’t known him since childhood. Bayonn had practically been a father to Matthias, teaching him the necessary skills to navigate Court and serve my interests. His death had hit Matthias harder than losing his own parents. The guilt of being convinced of Bayonn’s murder, but unable to prove it, made him uncomfortable around the Bayonn family.
But they weren’t influential. Whispers usually came from a high Step; it made it easier to navigate social circles.
‘An unusual choice,’ I said. Xania Bayonn wasn’t just from a lower Step – she was young. But then, so was I. And if she was suitable for Whispers, her social rank aside, then Matthias trusted her. He wouldn’t be reckless about such an important position.
‘She has potential,’ he said. ‘I’ll arrange a meeting.’
‘Very well. You may leave.’
I returned to the desk after he left, but pushed my cup away. The tea now looked like blood. The room felt stifled by the ghosts of my ancestors. The grief swelled inside me again, tinged with spite. As I grew up, Uncle and I had loved each other less and less; yet the throne was mine now, and I would be a better ruler.
Raised voices outside propelled me up and towards the doors. I flung them open and froze.
Chapter Four
Xania
The carpet muffled my footsteps, giving me a few more moments of stealth. ‘How long?’
Matthias whirled. His face tumbled through shock, surprise, guilt, then settled on anger. ‘Xania.’
‘Miss Bayonn.’ He’d lost the privilege of my name. ‘How long have you been working for her?’ What secrets have you told her?
‘It’s not –’
I whipped the dagger up.
He went still.
‘How long?’
He flicked his gaze from the dagger to me. ‘I’ve known her since childhood.’ He hesitated. ‘However you’re imagining I betrayed you, I didn’t.’
Careful phrasing. Typical Matthias.
The doors burst open, and the new Queen stood in the doorway.
Fear rolled in my gut.
‘Drop the dagger.’ This close, layers of powder couldn’t quite hide the grief or exhaustion on her pale skin. But her gaze still pinned me. ‘Drop it now.’
She spoke as if she’d never been disobeyed in her life, which was probably true. Refusing her meant courting death.
I let the dagger slip from my fingers.
Matthias nudged it towards the Queen with his boot. She scooped it up and held it at her side.
‘Your Majesty,’ he said through gritted teeth, ‘may I present Miss Xania Bayonn, daughter of the late Baron Bayonn and Lady Harynne.’
‘If this is a joke,’ the Queen told him, ‘it’s in poor taste.’
‘It isn’t. I don’t appreciate having the business end of daggers pointed at me.’
My legs tensed, though running was futile. The Queen knew my name now.
She narrowed her eyes. ‘How did you convince the guards to let you through?’ She looked between Matthias and me, then at the walls. So she had told him about the passages – and he shouldn’t have told me.