Chapter 5

Nothing recognizable remained of the assassins’ bodies, just chunks of flesh spattered all over. The complete destruction had Avera saying, “They must have planted the bomb after our visit to eliminate the evidence.”

“Not necessarily,” Gustav murmured. “Could be the explosive was present during our inspection.”

“Wouldn’t we have seen it?”

“Not if they put it inside the body.” A suggestion that widened her eyes.

“That would implicate the soldiers who moved them.”

“Not really. After all, the bodies were left unattended once they were cleared from the street. Anyone could have tampered with them in hopes of erasing any clues that might compromise someone. Could be the bomb was meant to kill you but didn’t go off soon enough.” Gustav offered a few possibilities which didn’t help.

“Is there any way of knowing where they got the explosive?” Avera asked.

Gustav shook his head. “Most likely smuggled in either by the assassins or those who hired them.”

“Could be it came from the mining operations in Flatfoot Plains,” she suggested.

“Possible but unlikely. Those are carefully accounted for given the difficulty in acquiring the combustibles to create the explosives.”

“In other words, we have nothing.” No clues. No suspect. Nothing but paranoia, wondering when someone might strike at her next.

When dinner time came, Avera chose not to eat in the main dining room, wanting privacy from the stares and whispers. Especially the suspicious ones. As she rounded a corner in the palace, she overheard a soldier mutter, “She probably killed her family so she’d inherit.”

While she could understand people questioning the fact she alone survived, it was also an atrocious thing to say. She had enough issues to handle at the moment and could do without her own people turning against her. Thus, despite usually turning a deaf ear to insults, she mentioned the incident to Gustav who took the pawn into custody and meted a public lashing for insubordination in the hopes of nipping that kind of talk in the bud. However, she knew the lowly soldier wasn’t the only one thinking it. Some people actually believed she’d orchestrated the deaths of her siblings and mother. Thought her heartless.

The opinion of people she didn’t know shouldn’t have mattered, and yet she found herself morose. Would there ever be anybody in this world who liked her? Other than Gustav, she had no friends. No confidantes. And that loneliness never pressed upon her more than now.

When she headed to her room to finally escape the wretched day she’d just suffered through, Gustav redirected her to the queen’s suite. “Your new quarters are ready. Staff have moved all your clothing and personal effects.”

“I don’t want that room,” she argued. “I have one that’s perfectly fine.” While some might have been upset at being kept in the nursery wing for children, Avera rather liked her room with its view of the lake.

“Not for a queen,” he countered.

“My mother died in that bed only this morning. You can’t expect me to sleep in it!” She didn’t temper her voice and knew the soldiers outside the suite heard her since they stood guard in the hall.

“The mattress was removed and burned along with the bedding. I told the staff to ensure everything was fresh.”

“You can’t remove the memories, though.” It would take time to erase that last moment by her mother’s bedside.

The statement pursed Gustav’s lips. “You can’t return to your old room. People will talk.”

“They’re already talking,” was her hot retort.

Gustav glanced up the hall, a scowl on his face that suddenly turned into a smirk. “Very well. Since you don’t want your mother’s suite, then I have an alternative that, while not quite as large, is protected and luxurious enough people should accept it.”

She wondered what he meant until he pointed to the door at the far end of the hall.

The consort’s suite.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Your choice. The royal suite or the consort one. Pick.”

“Pretty sure Benoit won’t be happy about being kicked out of his room.”

“Not his room anymore, and before you ask, he’s already moved out.”

Her brow arched. “That was fast.”

“The moment your mother died he knew his comfy position was gone. At least he didn’t make a fuss. Not like someone I know.” Gustav glanced at her. “So, which room will it be?”

“You’re devious,” she muttered as she stomped toward the further one.

Gustav kept pace by her side. “I like to think of myself as efficient.”

“Bossy, too.”

“Assertiveness is a rook trait, and I’ve got plenty of it. How do you think I ended up the Grand Rook?”

She snorted. “Were you this outspoken with your last queen?”

“Yes, but in private of course. I didn’t become Calixte’s personal protector by telling her only what she wanted to hear.” It felt odd to hear her mother’s name rolling from his tongue. He’d always been so proper when she’d seen them together.

“I appreciate that you are doing the same for me. It’s been a rough day and I do apologize for being snippy and ungrateful.”

“Don’t apologize. You’re doing remarkably well considering.”

“If you say so,” she muttered. It didn’t feel that way.

Gustav entered the consort’s suite first and gave it a quick peek before beckoning her to enter. She walked in to find it stripped. The floor was bare of carpets and the space lacked furniture and decor. The tapestries on the wall had been removed, leaving behind pale spots in the stone. The table and cozy chairs that used to sit in front of the hearth were missing, the chest at the foot of the bed also gone. All that remained were a massive garderobe and a bed, its mattress lacking linens.

“It’s as if he never existed,” she murmured, glancing around. “The staff were thorough.”

“Wasn’t them. The leech took everything with him.”

“Benoit emptied the room?” She couldn’t help a lilt of surprise.

“Oh yes, the moment he realized he’d lost his power, he fled with everything he could.”

“I’m surprised he left the bed,” was her dry retort.

“Only because it wouldn’t fit through the door.” Gustav swept a hand. “Will this room do?”

“That depends, does it have any secret passages?” Avera eyed the walls suspiciously.

“No. I inspected it thoroughly. As a precaution, though, the door to the hallway, and the one adjoining the former queen’s suite, will be guarded.”

She nodded. “Then, yes, this will do. Thank you.”

“In that case, let’s make it comfortable.”

In short order, at Sir Gustav’s bellowed request, the bed bore sheets and pillows, a carpet covered the stone floor, and a fire blazed in the hearth. A tray of food with enough for two had been set on a table scrounged from somewhere.

“Don’t touch it,” Gustav advised as she removed the dome, releasing a cloud of steam.

She glanced at Gustav. “I know it seems terrible given I’m in mourning, but I’m hungry.”

“You can eat in a moment. I need to test it first.”

“For what?”

“Poison.”

Her jaw dropped. Would this be her life henceforth? Constantly on guard for attack?

When Gustav declared it fit for consumption, she found her appetite had vanished and only picked at the herbed chicken and roasted potatoes. Once a servant cleared the remains, she tried reading more of her mother’s ledger until she finally put it aside, unable to concentrate.

She rose and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Gustav demanded.

“To check on Luna.” Her horse had returned to the stable after fleeing the attack.

“Your steed is fine.”

Avera, however, wasn’t. Had it been only this morning her mother died, and her world changed? It felt like ages ago.

“I’m going to bed,” she murmured, unsheathing the dagger she’d replaced at her belt and sliding it under her pillow. She wondered if she could demand a sheath for the sword she used in training. Royals didn’t usually go around armed unless you were Aldrich. Her brother, being a bully, liked to threaten.

“Rest well, my queen.” Gustav positioned a chair against the door and sat in it.

“What are you doing?”

“My job.”

“You have to sleep too,” she insisted.

“I’ll be fine.” The grizzled rook wouldn’t budge, and she knew why.

“It wasn’t your fault she died,” she softly murmured from the bed.

“If I’d been there?—”

“You had no reason to be inside her chamber while she slept. My mother lived to be in her late sixties without anyone attempting to murder her. You couldn’t know someone plotted against her.”

“That’s just it. She suspected something was afoot.”

“Because she started carrying a dagger?” She recalled him mentioning it when they were in the dungeon earlier.

His voice lowered. “I failed her. I won’t fail you.”

Avera chose not to argue further because, in truth, she felt safer knowing Gustav watched over her. His guarding presence allowed her to sleep, just not well. She dreamt of the assassin attack, only this time she wasn’t the one who stabbed but the one being skewered.

She awoke, panting in the dark, sweaty, and with her heart racing. She’d most likely have nightmares for a while. The lamp she’d left lit had burned out. Odd because she’d have sworn it had enough oil to last through the night.

As she turned on her side, she thought she heard something. A creak as of a door opening, and yet she heard Gustav’s soft snores, meaning the entrance to the hall remained closed. The consort’s bedroom had no secret tunnel leading to it, just a door adjoining the former queen’s suite, and Gustav had placed a chair in front of it to prevent entry. Most likely the noise was of the palace settling. A place this size and age stretched and groaned, especially at night when it got quiet.

A whisper of sound had her frowning. It wasn’t a footstep, nor the rustle of fabric, but something she couldn’t place. She gripped the dagger she’d hidden under her pillow.

Movement at the foot of the bed turned into a slight weight on her foot. She kicked and rolled from the mattress, hitting the floor with her feet even as she slashed blindly.

A rattling noise brought a chill.

“Gustav!” she yelled.

He didn’t reply. Odd. She’d taken him for a light sleeper.

The darkness had her backing from the bed, unable to see the threat. Could it be a rat? They didn’t usually attack people.

A strident hiss from in front of her led to her slashing. She was rewarded with her dagger sinking into something that uttered no cry of pain, but it did thrash and utter sibilant sounds.

She struck again, feeling moisture splattering her hands and face. She kept stabbing until the scaly creature stopped moving.

A tangy taste in her mouth had her gagging. “Ew,” she exclaimed, spitting and hacking.

“What is it?” Sir Gustav shouted. At the same moment, the lamp that had been dark suddenly blossomed, the light causing her to blink.

And blink again. For lying on the floor with many stab wounds was a very large, brown, mottled snake.