Chapter 8

Despite not having encountered any snakes, assassins, or bombs since the duke’s death, Avera couldn’t shake a niggling sense that the elder Petturi hadn’t been working alone. Attempts to discover co-conspirators failed despite how many times she pored through the missives that his son had discovered, seeking any clues as to Petturi’s final goal or a hint that might lead to others. The messages only spoke in the singular: i.e. the duke machinated on his own.

It didn’t help that Gustav fed her paranoia by sticking close, and when he couldn’t be by her side a pair of rooks shadowed her movement. While they didn’t hover over her while she worked in the office, they did insist on going in first and checking every corner, even behind the drapes.

At least they weren’t slapping food out of her hand. All meals were currently being served buffet style, meaning she could eat like a normal person unless it arrived on a tray to her quarters. Then she had to wait while someone took a bite and sip of everything. If they didn’t keel over, then she could indulge.

It wasn’t a way to live and yet she didn’t rebuke for she understood this was how Gustav dealt with his grief and the sense he’d failed Queen Calixte. She could only hope he eventually relaxed and realized no one could have predicted such a coordinated massacre. Just like she prayed she’d eventually get over her own fear. It would help if the nightmares didn’t visit every night.

She woke from her latest, shivering under the covers. While she didn’t remember the content of her dream, it left her with a sense of dread, as if warning her the worst was yet to come.

Discomfited by her own tumultuous emotions, Avera chose to not hold an audience after the morning meal, but rather went to her mother’s bedroom, a space she’d not visited since her death. As promised, the room had been stripped of personal effects. The bedding was a completely different fabric and color than before, matching the new tapestries hanging on the walls. The furniture was even slightly rearranged.

The secret doorway to the inner passages had a massive armoire sitting across it and it made her think of something her mother had said before her death, about how they had similar interests.

Opening the cabinet, she shouldn’t have been surprised to find it empty. What had happened to her mother’s effects?

The rooks standing in the hall by the open bedroom door stiffened to attention when she popped out to ask, “I want to know what happened to my mother’s personal items.”

“We don’t know, Majesty,” answered Levitt who bore a grand mustache that curled at the ends.

“Find out,” she ordered.

The rooks eyed each other before Morris, the second rook, replied, “We’re not supposed to leave your presence, Majesty.”

Her lips pursed. “Surely one of you can trot off and ask.”

“Our orders are clear. We are not to leave our post.”

Their post being the glue that stuck to her. She sighed. “Very well, I’ll find out myself.”

She tracked down Dame Tauteapron, the woman in charge of maintaining the royal suites. She commanded a team of maids who kept everything dust-free and clean.

“Dame Tauteapron,” Avera called out, seeing her at the far end of the hall giving instructions to a pair of young maids.

“Majesty.” Dame and her underlings dipped into a deep curtsy. “How can I assist you?”

“My mother’s things, do you know where they were taken?”

“Do you mean her clothing or personal effects?”

“Personal effects. She’d mentioned something about objects in a cabinet?”

“Ah, her majesty’s collection of curios.” Dame Tauteapron nodded. “We had those crated and put in storage.”

“May I see them?”

“Of course. I’ll have them brought at once. Where would you like them?”

In short order the crates, three in total, crowded the open space of her office. Avera lifted the lid on the first and saw mounds of straw to cushion the items within. She pulled out a clock, the face of it round with the hands that pointed to notches to indicate the passing of time. She’d never understood the need for one since looking outside could do the same thing. Sun overhead? Noon. Dark? Night. However, despite not seeing the practical use, she did enjoy taking clocks apart to see how they worked.

She dug deeper and pulled forth other intriguing pieces. Some she recognized, like the abacus for doing sums. She marveled at a kitchen tool that had a handle she could rotate to spin the beaters. She put it aside as a gift for the palace chef.

Most of the objects in that first box were simple in design. She opened the second and uncovered toys. A palm-sized trebuchet that could actually fling the marble in its cup. A boat with a mast and sails rolled tight that could be unfurled. A doll with a winding key that when turned had her clapping her hands. A wooden horse with articulated joints.

The eclectic collection fascinated as it implied Avera and her mother might have had more in common than expected.

The third box, the smallest of the three, held only two objects. The first appeared to be a dagger with a thick hilt. She palmed it and ran her thumb over the protrusion at the base of the?—

The blade suddenly extended, taking it from a foot long to three. She blinked. A compact sword. How marvelous. She turned it over in her grip but couldn’t figure out how it worked. Pressing the tip to the floor pushed it back into its small size and when it clicked, locked into place.

Since its weight felt good, she tucked it in the pocket of her skirt—something she’d insisted on having despite the seamstress’ objections. The second item in the crate confused. Avera held up an amulet, round in shape and made of metal and cloudy glass. Not a very attractive necklace which might explain why she’d never seen her mother wear it. However, it obviously had some significance otherwise why keep it. A tingle went through Avera when she stroked its surface. Odd and interesting enough she tucked into a pocket.

She thought the crate empty only to spot a glint in the straw lining the bottom. It turned out to be a locket, heart-shaped and of finely wrought metal. It took a moment to get the clasp to release. It popped open and she stared.

“What sorcery is this?” she breathed, seeing a perfect image of her mother in one half and a handsome man in the other. Avera didn’t remember ever seeing her mother so young, nor smiling so brightly. And who was the stranger with a swarthy complexion and purple-colored eyes—just like Avera.

Could this be her father?

Even more curious, how did someone manage to paint something so tiny and with so much detail? The artists she’d seen displaying their wares in the city never managed anything so perfect, let alone so compact.

Rather than stuff the necklace in a pocket, she chose to drape it over her neck. She couldn’t have said why, only that it seemed right.

She took her midday meal with the rest of the palace, still alone at her head table island as she didn’t count as companions the random people curtsying and bowing as they spouted platitudes. Perhaps she should think about forming her own inner court because while she’d spent most of her life alone, for the first time it grated. It made her think of Josslyn. A refreshing lady who’d not asked for favors and had a quick wit. She wondered if Josslyn would accept her offer to become duchess.

She found out that afternoon.

Josslyn returned and sought an audience.

Gustav, who’d returned to his post, knocked and stuck his head in to say, “The Lady Druuven is here to see you.”

“Send her in.” Avera clasped her hands to control her excitement.

Gustav cleared his throat. “I have to step out to check on some things and am leaving a pair of rooks to guard but?—”

“I know, you’d prefer I not wander around.” She rolled her eyes.

“I was going to say if you do feel a need to wander, bring a weapon.”

“I’ll be fine.” She waved him off and Josslyn entered wearing a wry smile.

“Majesty.” She dipped into a curtsy as the door shut behind her.

“We’re alone. You can drop the title.”

“Very well then, Avera. I’ve been thinking about your offer and after talking myself out of it numerous times, I’ve decided to take the position.”

“May I ask what swayed your decision?” asked an amused Avera.

“For years I privately grumbled about the duke. How he didn’t always seem to have the best interests of the people at heart but rather his wealthy cronies. And while he served under a queen, his blatant misogyny made it hard for women like me who choose to remain unmarried and take on a more masculine role.”

“I still remember him telling me I should learn to play an instrument or sew because sword fighting and fiddling with the mechanical wonders of Verlora were unbecoming.” Avera grimaced. “I ignored him, but I would guess his words would have affected those with less confidence.”

“Not just words. Have you never wondered why there are no female soldiers? There is no rule barring them from applying to be in the royal army, and yet, while we do have some go through with the training, not a single one serves in the ranks.”

Avera pursed her lips. “I’d assumed a lack of interest or change of heart.”

“More like the test is geared to have them fail. The duke oversaw the submissions, and when a male he approved of did his arms test, he paired them with someone of equal or lesser strength and stature. But the women…” Josslyn’s mouth twisted. “He pitted them against men twice their size.”

The revelation had Avera blinking. “That’s so blatantly unfair. I’m surprised my mother allowed it.”

“She didn’t know. But as word got around, fewer and fewer applied. Why bother when they knew they’d simply be shamed into submission?”

“I assume you’ll be offering a more balanced trial?”

“Yes, and I have other ideas for change which will make some of the lords quite apoplectic. Did you know the ladies in Okkilam wear trousers and not just skirts? Some even show their ankles.” Josslyn’s bright eyes shone with mischief.

Avera couldn’t help but giggle. “Oh, it’s not just the lords who would be appalled. My seamstress might have a fit.” But Avera was intrigued. The idea of not fighting fabric when riding or training… How revolutionary.

“Now, while I do have an idea of some of the duke’s duties, I have to admit I’m also woefully ignorant of their extent. You’ll have to guide me in the beginning.”

A demand that led to Avera snorting. “I don’t know any more than you. I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing. Thus far, I’ve been reading reports and signing documents, mostly relating to resolutions of disputes and doling out monies for items that seem legitimate. I have no idea how to rule.”

“Then I guess we’ll learn together.”

Together. Avera liked that word.

“Where should we start?” Avera waved to the pile of documents on her desk.

“If I might suggest a tour of the palace. I’ve only rarely visited as I was never one who enjoyed court. My understanding is the duke oversaw its upkeep and the staff.”

“More like he bossed around the heads of each section.” Avera ticked her fingers. “Let me see there’s the kitchen, stables, supplies, housekeeping, maintenance. The army is handled by Gustav and his band of rooks.”

“I wouldn’t dare try and poke my nose in his affairs. But I would like to meet those in charge of the sections. Find out what they’ll need from me in my new role.”

“Shall I have them fetched to your office? As duchess, you have the room across from mine.”

“I’d rather see them in person if you don’t mind. Get a feel for them in their environment.”

“A fine idea. I’ll join you since I need to stretch my legs.” Avera rose from her desk, and they exited, picking up a pair of rooks as shadows.

They began their mission by first finding the head cook. Lester managed the kitchen with a spoon-clutching fist. The moment he spotted Avera entering his domain, he barked, “Her Majesty is visiting. Look sharp!”

People stopped their tasks to drop into curtsies and bows.

Avera waved a hand. “As you were. I know you’re busy. I’m just here to introduce Duchess Druuven. She’ll be the one assisting me in managing affairs for our kingdom.”

“She’s the new duke?” Lester didn’t contain his note of surprise.

“I am.” Josslyn cocked her head. “And you must be the chef who makes those delicious cream pastries.”

“They’re a specialty of mine.” His chest puffed out.

“A delectable pleasure for the mouth. I assume you’ve been working on a fabulous menu for the coronation?”

“I’m still trying to coordinate the dishes based on what we have in the pantry. I’m afraid we’re running low on some items and thus I cannot be as elaborate as I like.”

“Running low? How so?” Josslyn asked.

“The previous duke appeared to be having difficulty in the past few months sourcing the items on the lists I gave him. Something about a shortage in the market at Horizon’s End, which is strange as we’ve never had problems before.”

The claim led to Avera frowning. “I’d not heard of any supply issues with the traders.”

“Must be something happening as I was lucky to get a third of what I demanded.”

“Send me a list of what you need,” Josslyn stated, “and I’ll see what I can do given the coronation is only days away.”

“Right away, Duchess.”

As they left the kitchen, Josslyn murmured, “What’s got you frowning?”

“I remember seeing Lester’s lists in the ledgers my mother left. They were all marked as completed. What happened to the food if it wasn’t making it to the kitchen? I should add that while it was boring, I did look through several years’ worth of invoices that I might better understand the palace’s needs. The amount of food being ordered increased the past few months, and not decreased as Lester claimed.”

“You think he lied?”

“No, I think the duke was stealing. His son stated he caught him taking large sums from the family coffers to enact his plot. However, it seems he also took some from the crown by invoicing for full groceries, but only buying a portion and pocketing the difference.”

A theory that solidified as the same situation repeated with each section head they spoke to. Linens not being replaced. The stables being provided with poorer quality hay and oats than previously. The level of corruption they discovered was on a scale that shocked.

How could her mother not have realized? Or had she been preoccupied with other worries? Avera couldn’t help but recall Gustav mentioning she seemed out of sorts.

Late afternoon, they found themselves back in Avera’s office with the rooks standing watch outside. Avera collapsed in her chair and sighed. “It would appear we have much work to do.”

“Yes, but nothing we can’t handle. We can start by actually supplying what’s on the lists being handed in. I’d also like to do a roster check to ensure wages are going to actual people as I wouldn’t put it past the previous duke to have been pocketing some of those sums.”

Avera grimaced. “I never knew how many tedious details ruling entailed.”

“Running a country is much like a business. You track expenses, purchase what’s needed, optimize operations where you can.”

“I’d much rather be taking stuff apart to see how it works.”

“Who says you can’t do that with your kingdom?” Josslyn smiled. “After all, it is like a machine with people as cogs, everything working together to make it hum.”

“An interesting way of looking at it. Here’s to hoping we don’t uncover more dirty secrets.”

“Speaking of secrets, is it true there’s tunnels in the walls?” Josslyn asked eagerly.

“Yes.” Avera turned somber. “It’s how the assassins moved around during the massacre.”

“I assume you had them sealed?”

She shook her head. “No, not yet at least, but we have made it so that anyone using the doorways won’t be able to do so quietly.” She pointed to the bookcase. “For example, that shelving unit swings out. The fireplace tools set in front of it will fall and make a clatter if that happens.”

Josslyn’s mouth rounded. “That’s an interesting way of handling it.”

“Gustav wasn’t as polite. He called it dumb. He thinks I should have them all bricked over, but I kind of like the idea of being able to move unnoticed should I not be in the mood for people bowing and scraping.”

“Useful for sneaking to see a paramour too,” Josslyn slyly added.

“I don’t have one.”

“Yet,” she laughed.

Avera’s nose wrinkled. “First I’d have to find a man who doesn’t annoy.”

“Perhaps your tour of the continent will allow you to meet someone.” Josslyn moved to the bookcase. “How does it open?”

“The carved flower second shelf from the top. Press and hold its center.”

Josslyn reached and pushed, jumping back as the shelving unit full of books shifted, causing the fireplace set to rattle. She snared it and dragged it out of the way before it fell. She poked her head in the opening. “I see a pinprick of light.”

“It’s the spyholes. Not all of them have covers over them.”

“Meaning people could be watching and listening?” Josslyn turned wide eyes on her.

“Yes. There’s quite a few actually.” Then because Avera needed a distraction, “Would you like to see them?”

Josslyn glanced at the office door. “Should we bring your bodyguards?”

“And have them tell Gustav?” Avera shook her head. “I’ve got my dagger. Besides, Gustav has had knights sweeping the tunnels at random.”

“Making them not so secret anymore.”

“I guess. Maybe it would be better to seal them.”

“Not today. Let’s go for a peek. I’ve always wanted to go on an adventure.”

Trekking through a tight and dark passageway hardly seemed to count and yet Avera found herself more intrigued than expected. She grabbed a lantern and lit it before entering, the light illuminating the stone walls of the narrow passage. They walked until they reached an intersection with the left section sloping upwards.

“Which way?” Josslyn whispered.

“Up leads to the royal chambers. To the right there are more choices, like the throne room and cellar as well as the small receiving parlor.”

“And they all have spyholes?”

“According to Gustav, yes, but let’s go see for ourselves.”

Indeed, each chamber the tunnels passed had a small aperture, some uncovered if a bit high, made for taller people. Other holes had bolts embedded above them from which hung slim discs of wood that could be slid aside to spy. They glanced through each one, observing the palace staff at work, chattering about their lives as they did. Avera blushed when a glance into a receiving room showed a pawn and a housemaid in a torrid embrace.

Josslyn whispered, “He’s well endowed.”

A comment that only made Avera’s cheeks hotter.

They ended up following a ramp downward. It was a long stretch of seamless stone with no holes for spying and finished in a wall with one last peeking slot and a door that had a newly set bar across it.

Avera held up the lantern. “Seems we’ve reached the end.”

“Let’s see what’s on the other side.” Josslyn slid the wooden shield and put an eye to the hole and announced, “Cellar. A rather empty one at that. I’ll see to it that it’s filled promptly.” She let the cover drop back in place just as they heard a voice.

“Couldn’t we have met in a tavern?” grumbled a man.

Josslyn leaned close to whisper, “That sounds like Admiral Venne.”

Avera’s brows rose. Why would Admiral Venne be meeting someone in the cellar?

“Given how things turned out, it’s best we keep out of the public eye.” The speakers neared their hiding spot inside the wall and the women held still rather than fleeing. While Avera knew eavesdropping was wrong, she couldn’t deny a certain naughty thrill and curiosity.

“I can’t believe she appointed a woman as duke,” Venne stated with clear disgust.

“We won’t have to deal with her for long. The pieces are almost in place.”

The voice… the familiarity had her frowning. Who could it be? She went to move the wooden cover to peek, but Josslyn put a hand on her arm and shook her head pointing to the lantern. The light might give them away.

Josslyn handled it by tucking it under her shawl and giving her a nod.

A deep breath and Avera pressed her eye to the hole to see who spoke but only saw a broad back partially concealed behind some stacked casks.

“Smart idea framing the duke,” Venne stated.

“Had to do something. Gustav would have kept hunting for the person behind the assassinations. I thought it best to offer someone plausible. Petturi served his purpose. No point in keeping him around.”

“What of his son? He seems to think he’ll be stepping into his father’s role.”

“That weak idiot?” The disdainful snort sent shivers down Avera’s spine. “If he makes a pest of himself then an accident is easy to arrange.”

Avera stiffened at the casual way the other man spoke of murder.

“Speaking of accidents, when is the bastard queen going to meet her demise?”

Avera slapped a hand over her mouth lest they hear her gasp. Josslyn gripped her arm tight. To think she’d met with Venne and thought him stiff but respectful. A lie, apparently. She truly couldn’t trust anyone.

“She’ll be gone soon, the question being whether we can arrange it before the tiara ceremony. The original plan to have her thrown from her horse might not work given that old rook’s been coddling her.”

“I don’t see why we can’t just murder her like the others,” Venne said.

Avera’s nails dug into her palms as she listened to them callously discussing her death.

“Because a murder at this stage would come across as a coup and the people might revolt. Better they think they lost their queen to a senseless accident. Then when it comes time to put someone on the throne, they’ll be more accepting.”

“And if they aren’t?” Venne questioned.

“Then anyone speaking against my ascent will be deemed a traitor to the throne.” A cold reply.

Who spoke? Why did she feel as if she knew them? Wracking her brain, she couldn’t think of anyone with that kind of low, serious tone.

“This would have been easier had that bastard died with the others.”

“Unfortunately, the assassins had difficulty getting through the culvert. The bolts holding the grill in place rusted and snapped when they tried to remove it. The grate required sawing which in turn meant they had to go find the proper tools. A minor setback. By this time next week, the Voxspira line will be no more, and a new age will begin.”

“With a king to lead us once more as we pave the way for the return of our master,” stated Venne.

What master? Avera’s questions mounted.

“What are we doing with the Grand Rook? Will he also suffer an accident?”

“Once I’m king, I’ll retire him.”

“And if he balks?”

“Charge him with treason. After all, he failed to protect the Voxspira line.” The sneering tone niggled. Where had she heard it before?

“I look forward to us meeting in comfort with wine and women.”

“Soon. Very soon everything we’ve worked for will come to fruition.”

“First, Daerva, then onward to liberate he who has been waiting.” Venne sounded almost reverent.

“Make sure the fleet is ready. Once I’m crowned, we’ll begin the next phase.”

“I cannot wait.”

“I’ll not contact you again until after the bastard queen is dead. Be ready to support my claim.”

“Of course, my king.”

The men chuckled and the sound of back slapping had Avera clenching her jaw. She’d have Venne hung, right after he revealed those he conspired with.

“I should go before a servant comes to see if I got lost. I’d better grab a bottle as it wouldn’t do to return from the cellar empty-handed.” A bottle clinked. “Petturi and his cheap piss,” Venne grumbled. “I’ll have a better vintage for when I raise the first toast to your reign.”

A single set of steps had Avera holding her breath. The other man obviously waited so they wouldn’t be seen exiting together.

Avera didn’t move her eye from the peephole, hoping for a glimpse.

The man drew a hood over his head before shuttering his lantern so it barely glowed. He pivoted and headed for the wall from which she peeked.

In a panic, Avera let the wooden eyelet shut and flattened herself against the stone. At least the door into the secret tunnels had a bar holding it shut, meaning he couldn’t enter the tunnel. Then again, she didn’t really need to hide. She wasn’t the one conspiring against the throne or the one speaking of murder.

Her fingers gripped her dagger and she planted herself in front of the door. As she reached for the bar, Josslyn hissed, “What are you doing?”

“Killing the traitor.”

“He’s gone.” Josslyn had her eye to the hole as Avera removed the wooden plank.

“Maybe we can catch him.” She shoved open the door and stepped into the dark cellar. Josslyn followed holding up the lantern.

Nobody remained. Avera raced for the steps only to see them empty. Whoever had been talking to Venne had disappeared, indicating another secret passage. “He’s gone,” she echoed Josslyn’s observation. She couldn’t help a note of disappointment.

“Did you see their face?” Josslyn asked.

“No. But I know that voice. I’ve heard it before. I just need to remember who it belongs to.”

“We need to tell Gustav.”

Her rook wouldn’t be pleased with their discovery, but at the same time, they’d gained invaluable information.

Someone still wanted her dead. Several someones.

In silence, they made their way back through the tunnels to Avera’s office with Josslyn murmuring, “That was a most disturbing thing to overhear.”

“But enlightening.” The plot, as suspected, encompassed more than the duke.

“What are you going to do?”

Avera could only offer a wan reply. “Do my best to not die.”