She curtsied and then hurried away, happy to be shot of the whole thing.
Ava didn’t blame her.
The sound of footsteps ringing on the marble floor made Balrick stop as he reached for the door handle.
Herron was wearing an ornate jacket, and Ava recognized her mother’s stitchwork in the black silk design that was sewn into the two front panels.
He was wearing protection. Protection he had obtained by chaining her mother to a wall and threatening Ava’s life if she didn’t work it for him. And to make matters worse, he’d forced her mother to unpick her own cloak’s protection for the black silk thread.
In that moment, she didn’t think she could hate him more.
And yet . . . her mother had worked that design knowing Ava was at Herron’s mercy. There might be a few surprises worked in for Ava to use, even though it had to have been around a year ago since the item was sewn.
“You watch your tongue in there, Ava.” Herron’s hand clamped down on her shoulder and he squeezed hard enough for her to try to get out from under him.
“Or?” She wrenched herself away. She despised this man, and she would not even pretend to obey him.
He said nothing in response, and Ava was aware not only Balrick but the guards as well were listening to every word.
Herron’s eyes told her she would be very sorry if she told her aunt what he’d been doing to her for the last few years.
She was going to be sorry no matter what, so she’d make his life as difficult as possible.
She turned her back on him, and Balrick looked at her with a flash of approval before he opened the door.
The throne room was just as Ava remembered it. It didn’t seem to be altered at all in the twelve years since she’d been here.
It was a simple room in some ways. There wasn’t a lot of furniture or wall hangings.
The focus of attention was the throne and the queen herself, and the gloss and beauty of the veined peach marble that clad the walls and floor.
A long carpet ran from the door to the throne.
It tended to focus the eyes on the dark wooden chair on which the queen sat, carved with images of the sea. The back of the chair resembled a rising wave, and Ava wondered if Luc had known that when he’d named his rebel army.
She’d forgotten about it until now, but it surely couldn’t be coincidence.
“Ava!” The queen stood as they entered, and Ava walked the long carpet train, hands demurely together, head bowed, until she reached the bottom of the dais.
“Aunt Freida.”
“You don’t go by Valestri anymore.” It was a strange opening statement, and Ava wondered if her aunt was still smarting from the final words she’d had with Ava’s father.
“My father took my mother’s name after you refused to disband the Chosen camps,” Ava said. “I’ve used Yngstra for the last twelve years.”
“Was it that long ago?” the queen mused. “It feels like yesterday. How is my brother?”
Ava blinked, looked up at her to see if she was being cruel, or if she really didn’t know.
“Herron had him murdered two years ago.” She stated it as calmly as she could.
It was the queen’s turn to blink. “Herron?”
Herron had followed her down the length of the room, but off to the side, where guards lined the walls.
“She is—”
“Did you have my father killed?” Ava snapped, her voice cold as she cut through his bluster.
“Yes.”
He looked surprised to have answered her, and Ava hid her elation by looking at her feet.
Her mother had worked some extra details into the jacket. Like the ability for her daughter to be obeyed, if she should ever be in the same room as Herron while he was wearing it.
“How?” the queen leaned forward on her throne, and Herron looked as if he were weighing up the benefits of coming clean.
“I paid bandits to ambush him and his wife.”
“Why?”
“He was coming to rescue me. Herron had abducted me by then and was holding me in your northern fortress.” Ava linked her fingers together. “You held me for two years, didn’t you, Herron?”
“Yes.” His answer this time was slightly weary.
“Explain.” The queen stood, and Ava saw her mouth was in a tight line.
She looked ill.
She had looked ill twelve years ago, and Ava had wondered a few times while she was held in the fortress whether she had possibly died.
“I thought we should have her under our control. She is your niece, after all, and would be considered a prize to some.” Herron held his hands palms up.
“You just forgot to tell me about it. Like the flares?” The queen slowly sat back down. “You ruin my reputation with our allies and neighbors, and I don’t even know what has been done in my name.”
“You aren’t in the best of health, I’m trying to shield you from the nastier side of running a country.”
Frieda laughed at that. It was not a happy sound. “Herron. I’m afraid you will force me to execute you one of these days.”
Herron tried to smile, but Ava guessed it was close to what he feared himself.
“And you? How are you known to the Commander of the Rising Wave?” The queen’s ire turned on Ava as suddenly as it had turned on Herron.
“I joined his army. I have traveled with the Rising Wave for some time.”
“And why would you do such a terrible thing against your own aunt?”
Ava stared at her, held up a hand and ticked the reasons off with her fingers. “I was abducted and lost two years of my life. My parents were murdered. I wanted revenge.” Ava held her aunt’s gaze, steady and serious.
The queen leaned back. “That, I understand.” She turned to Herron. “Again, your actions have consequences that affect me far more than they affect you.”
He said nothing.
Ava assumed they had already had a shouting match about the flares, which it was clear her aunt hadn’t authorized.
“Flares, Herron? Paid for with my money. In the hands of the army that has now besieged my city. Could you think of a scenario that is worse than this?”
“The generals let this happen. They were supposed to take the Rising Wave by surprise, and they did not. I thought we had competent military leaders.” Herron began to pace.
“Surely making sure they are competent is your job,” the queen said. She sounded tired. “I should be killing you, but instead, I have to kill Ava for her betrayal, even though I understand her motivations completely. How do you always survive when your betters do not? I cannot understand it.”
There was silence. Herron had stopped pacing and stood looking at the floor, as if hoping the queen’s attention would move off him.
“When do you plan to kill me?” Ava asked.
“Tomorrow, when the Commander of the Rising Wave comes to fetch you.” The queen leaned back as if exhausted. “I’ve told him I concede to his demand to have you back, but I insisted he come in person to talk terms.”
“And you’re planning to kill him, too?” Ava asked.
“I have no choice. I cannot surrender, I will be turning over Kassia to the Rising Wave, if I do.”
“Yes,” Ava said. “That does tend to be how surrendering works.”