Chapter 24

T he hour was late, but Anyka couldn't sleep. She stroked Galwyn's soft, feathered head as she sat in a chair by the fireplace, feet resting on a footstool, trying to make sense of what she'd just learned. The truth was, her world was spinning out of control. Galwyn was her only constant. "Aren't you, my darling boy?"

He tipped his head at her, then hopped off to his perch that stood beside her chair.

Anyka stared toward the door where Trog stood motionless in the shadows, her mind focusing on the troubles she was facing.

Beatryce was enamored with a life that would cease existing once they returned home, Lady Cynzia's grimoire was most likely gone, and Anyka's best hope of finding that book, Nazyr, was possessed by a spirit from the Beyond that seemed to be her mother, but maybe wasn't, and Nazyr himself was a traitor.

Or was he?

Did he still have a relationship with Sparrow? How had he hidden it? How had Sparrow acted so unaffected by the presence of Nazyr? Did her son know? Anyka's eyes narrowed. Maybe he didn't. Maybe that's why both Sparrow and Nazyr had pretended not to know each other. But the prince was half Grym. That was plain to see.

What did it all mean? Was Nazyr secretly loyal to Sparrow? Anyka put a hand to her throat. The very idea. Was he working against Anyka? Or was he working to bring Sparrow to the side of Malveaux? If so, why hadn't he told Anyka about any of this?

Nothing he'd done hinted at answers. After all, he'd helped Anyka find Lady Cynzia's grimoire. If he was loyal to Sparrow, why not help her find it? Anyka sucked in a breath. Had Nazyr told Sparrow about the tracker Anyka hired? Was that what had caused Sparrow to travel to the cloud kingdom?

Anyka groaned and rested her aching head in her hands.

Things had been so much better before Sparrow had pulled that blasted Merediem from its stone.

She brought her head up. There was only one solution, one she'd already thought about, one for which she'd hoped to get the blessing of her mother. Sparrow had to go.

Hawke would do it. He'd almost done it already. She'd speak to him about it tomorrow.

She exhaled, feeling better now that she'd finally made the decision to act.

With the plan set in her mind, she got up and went into the bedroom. She changed into a silk nightdress, leaving her gown on the bedroom chair for Jenny, who'd been dismissed hours ago, to deal with tomorrow. Anyka needed to get some sleep. Tomorrow would be a big day. The start of big things. The humans had an expression. What was it? Scorched earth?

Anyka nodded in appreciation of the phrase. Humans rarely got anything right, but they were very good at destruction, chaos, and power grabs. Scorched earth might be her new motto.

And as she was going to be rid of Sparrow, there were a few things Anyka wanted to do first. Things she wanted to be well rested for. She slipped under the covers and was soon asleep.

Her dreams were dark and dreadful, visions of her mother as the wasted, deathly hag that had appeared out of the Beyond, her mother's voice taunting her with cries of how weak Anyka was, how little she had accomplished, how the people despised her.

Her mother offering her a glass of blackberry brandy with grains of belladonna moth powder floating on top.

Anyka woke as light seeped through the curtains, her stomach sour from tossing and turning, her head heavy with the weight of responsibility. She rang for Jenny, ordered coffee, then went straight to the bath to soak and find the energy to get on with her day.

The morning spooled out and she moved through it with the practice of years, being dressed and made ready by her maid as if she were a giant doll, separating herself from the process as she played out a few imagined scenarios in her head. Finally, it was time to go down to breakfast. Hawke accompanied her, followed by Ishmyel and Beatryce, both of whom she'd yet to speak to in regard to her plans.

Ishmyel, she would tell. She wanted his input and, hopefully, his support would be forthcoming. Beatryce would not be brought in. Anyka knew what needed to be done with Beatryce. Mostly that the girl had to be wed to an appropriate partner as soon as one could be found.

Anyka was starting to wonder if the trolls might have an eligible heir. She decided to speak to them about it when they arrived to sign the new treaty agreement.

"Any change in Nazyr?" She'd instructed Hawke that he was to check in on the wizard every morning and every evening.

He shook his head. "Nothing much, my lady. Clary said he had a fitful night, but his fever has broken. That's something."

Anyka nodded because it was the appropriate response, but she wasn't sure she cared. "I want to speak with you privately at some point today."

"I am at your service."

They walked into the dining hall. Her gaze went straight to the Summerton royal table. As usual, Prince James sat with his bodyguard, his aunt and her bodyguard, a friend who seemed to be always with her, and a handful of professors who Anyka didn't care to know.

She took her seat, watching Prince James and his aunt. It was Anyka's understanding that Sparrow had been raised by the aunt, that she and James loved the old woman dearly. Violet, she believed the woman's name was. New thoughts churned in Anyka's head.

The woman did have a bodyguard, but just one. And the friend who seemed to accompany her everywhere was no threat. What would Sparrow be willing to trade for her aunt's life?

A slow smile spread across Anyka's face. Merediem ? Lady Cynzia's grimoire? Both? The aunt might be a better way to go.

"You look happy about something, my lady," Hawke remarked. "Might I ask what has caused that smile?"

She turned her attention to the coffee a footman had just poured for her. "In good time, Hawke."

The idea taking shape in her head brought her appetite back, despite the poor sleep and the burden of her responsibilities. She raised her hand to get another footman's attention and he came to her.

"Yes, your highness?"

"What's available for breakfast this morning?" Anyka was in the mood for something indulgent. Something…not her usual.

"The kitchen would be pleased to prepare anything you like, your highness."

A few seats away, Beatryce was ordering. "Bea?" Anyka called out, interrupting her daughter. "What are you getting?"

"Wheatcakes with berries and whipped cream. They're very good." Beatryce nodded, as did her friend, Merylynn, beside her. "We had them for breakfast yesterday morning and I haven't stopped thinking about them since."

Anyka nodded and looked at the footman again, suddenly starving. "I'll have that, too. And a side of bacon. Hawke, what about you? Would you like that as well?"

Hawke made a dubious face. "I suppose anything's worth a try."

"Two of those," Anyka said.

"Very good, your highness." The footman left.

Hawke chuckled. "You are in a good mood. Wheatcakes?"

She spread a napkin across her lap. "Not my usual, I know, but I rarely indulge myself, so why not? I work hard. Harder than anyone realizes. I deserve it."

"You'll get no argument from me."

"What do you think of the guards appointed to the royal family? Specifically, the ones assigned to the prince and the queen's aunt?"

He glanced toward the Summerton table. "I don't know them, obviously, but my immediate assessment is that they're probably decent, otherwise, they wouldn't have been allocated to guard those two. Having said that, I'm sure they could be overtaken. After all, the prince's guard is a woman ."

Anyka pursed her lips. "And you think that makes her weaker?"

Hawke ripped his gaze from the Summerton table. "I think…" He took a breath as he seemed to realize he was talking to a woman. "It might make her more vulnerable to certain distractions. Possibly easier to disarm. I can only speculate."

"Hmm." It was good for him to squirm a bit. To remember his place. "As you are no longer able to spend time with Nazyr, I'd like you to turn your focus to the prince and the queen's aunt. See what you can learn about their routines, their guards, when they're most exposed, that sort of thing."

"Planning something?"

"Possibly. We'll speak about it soon. I need more information."

Footmen soon arrived with trays of food. Anyka's plate was presented first. The wheatcakes were stacked high and smothered with fresh berries, berry sauce, and fat dollops of whipped cream. A separate dish of bacon was added alongside. The sweet aroma of the wheatcakes along with the sharp tang of the berries and the salty fattiness of the bacon made her mouth water.

Last night, she'd been miserable. Tired of the weight of the crown, worn thin from the responsibilities of her life, exhausted by how much rested on her shoulders.

Now, it felt good to be queen. Very good. She ate her breakfast with enthusiasm, savoring every bite, although she only ate about half of it. Finally, she pushed the plate away. Hawke was still eating. She sipped her coffee, her gaze returning to the Summerton table.

She studied Prince James, comparing his features to Nazyr's. She could see small similarities. The arch of James's brows, perhaps. The prominence of his cheekbones.

Then he laughed and Anyka saw Nazyr's smile.

She exhaled. Her mother, or whatever spirit was in Nazyr, was right. She looked over her shoulder at Wyett, inclining her head slightly to bring him to her.

"My lady?"

"Tell Prince James I wish to speak to him as soon as he's done with his meal. He's welcome to bring his aunt, Violet. The meeting will take place in a private, but neutral space. That sitting room off the main foyer, so long as it's available."

"Right away." Wyett went straight to the Summerton table and stood until Prince James acknowledged him, which only took a moment. He spoke to James, gesturing at Anyka.

James's brow furrowed in her direction, then he turned to his aunt, whose expression seemed to mirror his own skepticism. They were right to wonder what Anyka was up to, but they'd soon find out.

As Wyett returned, Prince James got up and followed him. James came directly to her. "You want to speak to my aunt and me?"

Anyka dabbed at the corner of her mouth with her napkin before answering. "That's right."

"What about?"

So abrupt. Had his mother taught him no manners? "It's a rather private conversation. I shouldn't think you'd want to have it here, surrounded by so many of our citizens."

The skepticism remained on his face.

She sighed, making no effort to disguise how tedious she thought this conversation was. "I never said alone. You are fully welcome to bring your guards. I will have mine."

He nodded. "All right then. Now?"

"That would do, yes." She turned to Hawke. "I won't be long. Wait for me." Without waiting for Prince James, she got up and went toward the sitting room, Wyett and Trog following.

When she reached the door, she looked behind her. Prince James and Violet, accompanied by their guards, were not far behind her. Anyka went inside and took a seat in one of the chairs, leaving the couch for them. Wyett and Trog went to either side of the door.

Prince James and Violet came in, their guards sticking close. They sat and their guards moved to stand behind the couch. Prince James looked at her as Wyett closed the door. "All right. What is this about?"

Anyka relaxed her arms on the chair, her hands gently gripping the ends of the armrests. She was here to gauge his reaction, not have an in-depth conversation, so she got right to it. "It's come to my attention that my Minister of Magic, Nazyr Marwood, is your biological father."

No surprise registered on his or Violet's faces, no shock widened their eyes. Prince James just shrugged. "And?"