Lady Satryani hardly wasted a second. “You look well, my Queen. I knew the tournament shouldn't have been cancelled. The ambassadors could have waited a mere few days for your recovery.”
The Queen met the duchess’ platitudes with a cold smile.
Speculation was all any of them had for now. Rumors of Castien’s hasty ride out of the city, alone, flooded the court. Too many had seen him. There was no hiding that truth. She may as well use it.
“But we didn't need them to be aware of who poisoned me. And that is the heart of the issue today.” Pausing, she examined each councilor in turn. “My newest Escort, Castien FitzUmbra, bears the blame.”
Half of them nodded. A few raised brows indicated surprise, and the remainder didn't seem to believe her.
Satryani was expectedly smug. “That's terrible to hear. I believe scouts have reported him riding toward Nadraken. Is that true? Has he always been a Nadraken spy?”
The implications were too many, and none of them displayed the Queen's judgment in a good light.
She tapped her claws on the table. “He will be captured and questioned, of course. As will the Nadraken representatives that my steward did well to detain. I am eager to pay them a visit.”
Lord Magdus placed both hands on the table and leaned forward. “We should send their heads back with a declaration of war for daring to assault our Queen!”
The man was predictable and dependable.
She turned her attention to her claws as though bored. “Nonsense. There will be no war.”
He gaped. “You were poisoned, nearly dead–!”
“Betrayed by my own court. A defector to our enemies. My bedmate turned poisoner. That is not the kind of weakness we can afford to show the world.”
Duchess Satryani interjected, “Complacency and nonaction is your preferred flavor of weakness, my Queen?”
The insult should have been answered with a dagger to the lady's chair, stabbing into the wood an inch from her ear, but Anais didn't trust her aim at the moment.
“There will be no war. But there will be blood.” Enough to satisfy even the duchess.
Anais glared around the table, her tone chilling as cold as ever. “First, I will speak to our guests. If they do not satisfy me, then – then their blood will run. Until such a time, no one touches them. This is my vengeance to enact, and none of you will take it from me. Am I understood?”
Scattered murmurs of “yes, my Queen” and dipped chins acknowledged her. Magdus’ lips moved appropriately. Satryani tilted her head at an angle that could have been mistaken for acquiescence.
After a few moments, the Mistress of Ceremonies coughed. “Ah, since we have feasts and festivities prepared for a week, I propose that we celebrate your health, my Queen!”
Trust Lady Chrysalm to prioritize the damnedfestivities. Anais fixed a cool stare at her until the cautious smile faded from her lips.
Unfortunately, the council’s issues only degenerated from there. A hot summer caused dry rivers and drought. They proposed increasing the harvest intake from the already starving populace, which directly countered an arrangement she had with the rebel leaders.
A headache throbbed behind one eye. Octavius warned her to rest for another few days. What he didn't understand was that she couldn't rest without knowing Castien was safe. This – guiding the snakes toward the least harmful places to bite – satisfied a fraction of her need to act.
Although it wasn't for another hour that she abandoned the council chambers to their posturing and bickering, Anais was almost light on her feet. Jerome and three guards fell in behind her. The Queen snapped her fingers at a few more guards as she walked. Once she collected a squad, she gave them instructions on the move.
“Make sure the Nadraken ambassadors are ready for me. I'd like to speak to their duchess – and only her.” She pinned one guard with a look. “You – have Escort Octavius join us immediately.”
The majority of her entourage bowed and rushed away. She walked stately in the same direction. The Queen did not run. The Queen did not faint.
The few times her mother had fallen ill, Jana had disguised leaning against Vern as a caress of her claws along his arm. Anais wouldn't have minded Castien's arm steadying her right then.
If he hadn't caused her illness to begin with.
Sweeping into the ambassadors’ hall, she found Octavius conversing with the guards stationed beside the Nadraken’s chambers. He turned and bowed low. She waited for him to straighten. Her healer never bowed quite so low as when he was displeased with her. Berating through obeisance was a skill that Octavius had developed far too well.
His observant gaze scanned her body as he rose. The scowl already adorning his expression flattened his lips into a grim line. “My Queen,” he rumbled.
The Queen nodded in passing. Perhaps it was time to put an end to her Escorts’ excessive overprotectiveness. She wasn't a child anymore. With them, she could let down her mask. But perhaps that was a mistake. She was always the Queen.
