“I thought you’d be here,” Felix said, kneeling at her side.
“Leave me.”
He gently cupped her face in his hands, lifting her head to look at him. “Ask me again, and I will.”
She didn’t answer, so he leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers.
“The king is dead,” she told him.
Felix bowed his head, whether from shame or respect, Mina wasn’t sure. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t tell anyone, yet. If Whitespring knew that both the king and the princess were dead, there would be chaos.” She took his face in her hands, lifting his head to look at her. “Felix, what do I do now?” she asked him in a whisper.
He put his hands over hers and brought them to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “Be a queen, just as you were always meant to be.”
Mina gazed into his eyes, trying to figure out if he was only reflecting back to her the answer she wished she could give herself. “What do you see in me, Felix? What do you see right now?”
He studied her, and as he did, his face started to change, his lips turning down, his eyes filling with despair. Mina saw the brokenness in him, which meant that he saw something broken in her. She had told Lynet it was a gift to be delicate, because it meant no one had tried to break her. The word that Lynet hated so much had sounded like a luxury to Mina. She had tried to think of a time when she had ever felt delicate, but she couldn’t; for as long as she could remember, she had always felt herself covered in invisible fractures, a map of scars like the ones that ran up and down Felix’s arms. Perhaps she was so broken that she had become unbreakable.
No one would ever see her like this, Mina decided. No one would see her on her knees, head bowed in shame. She had nothing left to lose, except her crown—and she would fight for it. The people of the South still needed her, and she would fight for them, too. She wouldn’t waste Lynet’s death by falling apart now.
Mina thought of the girl who had once sat in this same room, promising herself that she would be a queen, and she rose to her feet.
* * *
Mina paced the windowless council room, waiting for her guest. Today, the long table was bare, and the throne at its head was empty.
Father and daughter were both dead, but Mina couldn’t afford to mourn any longer. In the chapel, she could fall to her knees and give in to regret, but the moment she crossed the threshold, she had to be nothing less than a queen, with no sign of weakness or doubt.
She knew she had to act quickly in the short hours after Nicholas’s death. The captain of the guard had always liked her—he had southern roots, he had whispered to her once—and so when she brought him a dozen new soldiers to train as her personal guard and a purse full of gold coins to spend as thanks for his continued loyalty, he bowed his graying head and promised always to serve his queen.
She sought out a few of the noblemen she knew, ones whose gazes had lingered on her a little too long over the years, men she’d flirted with long ago at social functions even before she was queen. She didn’t tell them that Nicholas was dead, but she expressed her worries that he would die soon, that she would be a widowed queen. She kept them all at a distance, using only flattery and the illusion of her vulnerability to let them think she was close enough to touch. Later, when they learned that both Nicholas and Lynet were dead, each one would remember that the queen had sought him out especially, and he would think himself favored, perhaps even desired. They would all believe that with Mina on the throne, they might have a chance to rule too—a dowager queen was a valuable asset for a man who wanted to be king.
Finally, she spoke to the steward and made sure that her plans had some historical precedent. And then she sent for Xenia. As much as she hated to admit it, Mina needed her support.
A knock at the door brought Xenia, escorted by one of Mina’s new soldiers, and Mina told him to wait outside while she and the noblewoman talked.
“Has something happened, my lady?” Xenia said in the honeyed tone she’d always used since Mina had become queen.
“Sit, please,” Mina said, gesturing to the table. Xenia took her usual seat, at the king’s left side, and Mina sat across from her. “I’m telling you this because I know I can trust you to do what’s best for the stability of this kingdom,” Mina said. She had thought she would need to force the words out, but she found to her surprise that she believed them. Xenia’s power came from her position at court, a position that depended on stability and unchanging order. If she could convince Xenia that they both wanted the same thing, she would win.
“I’m honored by your trust in me, my lady,” Xenia answered. “I hope the king is well.”
“I’m afraid not,” Mina said. She looked down at her clasped hands for a moment before continuing. “The king is dead.”
The news shocked Xenia into momentary silence, her mouth hanging open. “I’ve known him since he was a boy,” she said, fighting to recover her composure. “I—I’m sorry, my lady. I know this loss must be—”
Mina shifted in her seat. “I understand your grief, but we have no time for it now.”
Mina’s blunt words had their intended effect—Xenia’s polite mask slipped, her face hardening as she looked with loathing at the lowborn woman who ranked above her. “Then you’ll forgive me for asking why you’ve called me here alone. I know it isn’t because of the high regard you hold for me.”
Mina gave Xenia a cold smile. “You’re right. But I do understand your position here, the influence you hold over the rest of the court. I experienced it firsthand when I was a girl. One word from you, and the rest follow.”
Xenia tilted her head in acknowledgment. “True.”
“I have something else to tell you … something I wish I didn’t have to say.” Mina paused, afraid her voice would break. When she was sure of herself, she said, “The princess is dead as well.”
Xenia didn’t react at all, her face perfectly still. And then she said, “Are you telling me the truth?”
The sight of Lynet’s corpse laid out in the chapel flashed through Mina’s mind. She took a breath, forcing the image away before she answered. “Lynet was found dead early this morning on the grounds. Her neck was broken, probably from a fall. I can’t know for sure, but I think … I think she took the news of her father’s accident badly.”
Xenia gasped, understanding Mina’s implication. “The poor child.”
Mina waited for her to recover, to grasp the larger ramifications of Lynet’s death, as she knew Xenia would.
And there it was—Xenia looked up at Mina suddenly, looked her in the eye with perfect understanding. “The king named no other successor, did he?”
Mina shook her head. “I spoke to the steward. He said the king had no other direct relations, only distant cousins, all with an equal claim to the throne. Do you understand what that means?”
“Of course I understand. This kingdom will fall into chaos. There could be civil war.…”
“I don’t want that any more than you do. I want everything to stay as it is. And there’s only one way I can see for that to happen.”
She had feared that Xenia might laugh at her when she figured out what Mina truly wanted, but Xenia didn’t laugh or sneer. She nodded slowly, looking Mina full in the eye as she said, “You have to remain queen. And you can’t do that without me.”