The queen sighs and stares down at the enormous diamond ring on her forefinger. ‘The traditional punishment for high treason is a lingering death in the arena for the guilty, followed by seizure of their lands and goods and the imposition of indentured servitude on their dependents.’ One of the accused begins weeping. ‘However, I have petitioned His Majesty, and thankfully he is minded to be lenient. If you provide us with the names of the people involved in the plot hinted at in your letters, you will be granted swift deaths and your families will be spared any further punishment. However, if you decline to cooperate …’ She sighs again, as if the fate of these people pains her. ‘It is, of course, your choice.’
One of the male prisoners lifts his head. ‘Mercy, Your Majesty, I beg you.’
‘Mercy? Oh, there will be a time for mercy.’ The queen’s voice sharpens. ‘But only once we have burned away all that is rotten.’ She waves her hand and the guards move to escort the prisoners back out of the hall. But the same man who spoke before begins struggling.
‘My Lord Arden – Your Grace –’ he shouts loudly enough, but Arden doesn’t respond, just clutches the chair and stares straight ahead as if his life depends on it, ‘– my dear cousin, I beseech you, there is no treason here, no plot, we have done nothing –’
The doors are slammed shut, cutting off his voice.
Another restless night. When I do finally get to sleep, I’m woken before sunrise by Letya, bearing a summons from the queen. My companion’s face is drawn; the story of last night’s trial has already spread rapidly around the Citadel. The miasma of fear infecting the corridors was palpable even before I retired to bed. But the embossed card Letya hands me bears no indication of why I am required.
Ten minutes later I am in the queen’s withdrawing room, standing on the intricately patterned carpet as the queen, in a pale blue dressing gown that enhances the silvery cast of her skin, paces in front of me. She seems to have some difficulty coming to the point; either that, or she is trying to make me more nervous.
‘Well, niece,’ she begins finally, ‘you are wondering, perhaps, why I have asked you to wait on me this morning?’
I try to imagine how Lord Lancelin would advise me, if he were here right now, and incline my head. ‘My only desire is to serve, Your Majesty.’
‘I’m sure. It is so difficult for me to know what to do for the best, with the king as ill as he is.’
I almost ask, How ill is he, exactly? But silence seems more prudent.
She takes a few more turns about the room, twisting the diamond ring on her finger. I notice for the first time that the stone is cut so it rises into a sharp point.
‘Still,’ she continues, ‘I must ask, I suppose. Lord Siegfried … how do you find him? Do you like him?’
‘Well enough, Your Majesty.’
‘And –’ she takes a deep breath, fiddling with the lace that edges her dressing gown – ‘are the rumours true? Are you sharing his bed?’
The directness of her question throws me; perhaps the guest master’s discretion was less to be relied upon than I’d hoped. The queen is watching me carefully. I take a deep breath and look her full in the face. ‘No, Your Majesty. I am not. I never have.’
She sighs and smiles. ‘Good. I’m so glad.’
What is this really about? Is she worried that, somehow, I’m going to disrupt the wedding?
More back and forth across the carpet. ‘And tell me –’ the queen throws me a sideways glance – ‘what is your opinion of the princess’s betrothal? I know you spend time with her. Do you think it will be a happy marriage?’
Here is my chance, if I want to take it: I could repeat to the queen exactly what Siegfried said to me, both at Deaufleur and on the night he killed Flayfeather. With the king ill – dying – the queen is the most powerful figure at court. Surely, if anyone can stop Siegfried, it’s her.
And yet …
I hear Lucien’s voice in my head, as clearly as if he were standing behind me: Trust no one.
‘I would not presume to have an opinion, Your Majesty. I’m sure the princess is the best judge of her own happiness.’ My guess is that the king ordered the trial I attended yesterday; it would fit with his paranoia and vindictive character. But I cannot be certain. And I do not intend to be the next person arrested.
‘Very true.’ The queen nods. ‘Perhaps I am worrying for nothing. Thank you for your time, niece.’
I’m free to go.
It’s not until I’m outside of the royal suite that I realise I’ve been digging my nails so hard into the palms of my hands that my skin is bleeding.
Letya is waiting for me. ‘Thank the Creator. I feared –’
‘Don’t. So did I.’
As we walk back to my rooms, I try to work out what is going on. Because there is something else, something other than the skeletal plot that Siegfried shared with me. I don’t for a moment believe anything that I heard at yesterday’s trial. But somewhere – somewhere – there is flesh, and feather, and colour, if only I could see it.
Trust no one.
But that’s not possible, not really. I need help.
Back in my sitting room, I ask Letya to sit down.
‘I have to ask you to do something.’
‘Anything.’
‘I’d like you to collect information for me. You’re more observant than anyone I know. If you can talk to the servants, try to find out whether there is anything unusual going on with regard to …’ I hesitate, wondering what I should say, how much I can tell my friend without compromising her safety any more than I have to.
‘Is this about Lord Siegfried, Aderyn?’
I glance at her sharply.
‘Yes. You’ve heard something?’
‘There’s been a rumour among the servants for a while now, that he aims at more than just the crown. And Turik told me about what happened to his family. How they had to run away.’
Her reference confuses me. ‘Turik? I thought he’d escaped from Brithys?’ Or had I just assumed it was Brithys, that night in the garden?
‘No. He comes – came – from Olorys. His mother got him and his sister out, but his father … Turik was only a little boy. But they made him watch his father die.’ Her mouth twists in distaste. ‘Over some Decree that had been broken.’
Owning a bow and arrow, perhaps …
‘Lord Siegfried cannot be allowed to become king. But he is cruel and powerful, and to offer any kind of opposition is risky. My friend, if I’m asking too much –’
‘Atratys is my home too, Aderyn. I saw the suffering in Brithys, just as you did. I’ve seen more than you, I reckon, of how the flightless are treated here. Did you know that the servants in the Citadel are not allowed to learn how to read? Of course, some still try. One of the housemaids got caught with a book a few weeks back. She got branded on the hand and turned away with no reference.’ Letya’s eyes flash. ‘I saw her begging when I was in the city the other day; the poor thing looked half starved. So, yes, I’m willing. I’ll do whatever I can to stop Atratys falling to someone like Siegfried, or turning into somewhere like this. I know Turik will say the same.’