“Of course.”
The staff spun in his hands. “You think it is barbaric, what I did to our traitors. But this is what it is to rule, Ekaterina Avenko.” He sounded a little sad. “Sometimes you must be brutal and unforgiving, even to people you once considered friends.”
Inkar waited in my rooms, reading a Kylmian grammar book and rubbing one hand against her temples. “Why do you always wander your palace with wet hair?” she asked. “It is a wonder you have not taken ill and died.”
“Cheerful sentiments, as usual,” Aino grumbled as she went to my wardrobe. “Which dress, Ekata?”
“The most imposing one,” I replied. The one that said Don’t touch me, don’t even look at me. As Aino retrieved it, I studied Inkar. She had controlled a thousand men on horseback; maybe she could help me now.
Inkar mouthed a few words, then ran her hand through her hair in frustration. Then I saw a hint of red in her cheeks. “You are looking at me.” The blush was joined by a sly smile. Inkar closed the book and tilted her head.
“I want to ask you a question.” I tried to ignore the sick feeling in my belly. “When you led the Emerald Order, did you ever execute anyone? One of your own?”
The smile dropped from her lips. “When I had to.”
“Do you regret it?”
She hesitated, then shook her head. “What is necessary is necessary,” she said. “And sometimes people need to know that you will take that final step.”
Yes. People had to know that I could be brutal. Maybe they’d take me seriously if it was Yannush’s blood spilling all over the floor of the Great Hall.
Eirhan knocked on my door as I was getting dressed. “You asked me to assemble the council,” he said, frowning as he took in my severe look. I wore a high-necked black velvet dress with a skirt that had room for three people. Silver and sapphires were strung over my arms and chest.
“Have the council convene in the Great Hall.”
Eirhan’s expression flickered. “The Great Hall is a public space, Your Grace.”
“Did Father hire you to point out the obvious?” I asked. “Tell your guard to release Annika, and have the council convene in the Great Hall.” Don’t make me tell you again. I picked up the tiara and slid it onto my head. Strength. Pride. Rage. This was the legacy of my family, and if I had to use it to win, I would. Grand dukes made grand statements. I paused at the door. “Inkar? Will you come?”
She said nothing, but she slid out of her chair and took the arm I offered. A grand duke and her consort. Aino arched an eyebrow in disapproval.
Eirhan’s lips pursed momentarily before he smoothed them. “What of Reko, Your Grace?” he asked as I exited my rooms.
“Reko can stay in prison,” I replied. Until he learned that grand dukes were to be feared, not defied.
Eirhan disappeared down the hall ahead of us. I shoved down my fear until I could barely feel it tickle at the back of my spine, then began to walk. I had to be swift and brutal, as the duke Below had been.
Aino’s pace increased slightly, and I felt her hand brush my shoulder before she spoke in Kylmian. “Are you sure you should be mixing Inkar in with politics?”
“She’s already mixed in,” I said. And it felt better to have her support. A partner, even if she was a temporary one.
We came to the Great Hall. I walked toward the throne with trepidation, but without hesitation. The guard was silent; the only sound I could hear was the swishing of my dress and the scrape of our ironclad shoes against the ice floor. I took a seat and rested my forearms against the armrests, then I lifted my chin and sucked in my cheeks, trying to give myself the hard, angry face of a grand duke. I resisted the urge to touch my crown. You’re the most powerful person in the room, I told myself. Everyone here should fear you. And by the end of this meeting, they would.
My ministers slunk in one by one. Itilya wore her usual unruffled expression, but her eyes did not reach mine. Urso’s face was the color of day-old fish. Rafyet looked bewildered. Whispers spun around the room as Annika entered, and intensified when Sigis came behind. I clenched my fists as he winked at me.
Eirhan hurried to me. He leaned low. “What is your intention?”
“Take your seat,” I said. I don’t owe you anything.
“If you’re going to make some grand pronouncement, we need a strategy—”
“No,” I said, loudly enough to get the attention of everyone in the room. Silence dropped like a curtain. Eirhan leaned away from the vehemence in my voice. “I have something to say, and everyone’s going to hear it.” I shifted. The sick feeling in my stomach grew. “My family isn’t ill. They’ve been cursed.” This didn’t get the gasp I’d imagined. Instead, the silence deepened, as though everyone had stilled every part of themselves to make sure they heard what I said next. “I think Minister Yannush can say something about that.”
The silence extended a moment longer, so still that I thought I could hear the winter roses growing on the other side of the room. Then Minister Yannush said, “I cannot,” with a confidence that didn’t reach his too-large eyes.
“You cursed them with magic you bought personally when you went Below.”
That broke things. Whispering flew through the room. Inkar turned to me with questioning eyes. I shook my head slightly.
“That’s impossible,” Yannush said in a high voice that shone with fear.
“Your cohorts Below admitted it was you,” I said.
“And you believed them?” He tried to snort, but his bluster was gone. People began to shift away from him. Sigis wore the shrewd, calculating look I’d seen on him when he’d entered the hall the night of my coronation. Recalibrating.
I turned my attention back to Yannush. “Why shouldn’t I? Who else would they have identified?”
Yannush swallowed. I watched his eyes, hoping they would dart toward a coconspirator. But they remained steadily, disappointingly on me.
“You have committed treason. The price for that is death.” My words echoed in a cold, quiet hall. Why was it that my ministers could never keep so silent in private?
They were waiting for me to say but. They were waiting for me to commute his sentence.
“You’ll be escorted from your rooms tomorrow morning for the execution. I suggest you put your affairs in order.”
Then came the uproar. “You can’t!” cried Bailli. Other voices joined his.
“Wait,” said Yannush, who stumbled forward. I glared at two of the guards who lined the wall, and they hurried to meet him. “I have allies. There are others!” The guards hesitated, looking back at me. I waved for them to continue. “I have the cure.”
His voice was almost lost in the crowd. Urso stood, pale as the outer wall, with his hat pressed to his chest. Some had elected to shout abuse after Yannush; others proclaimed the need for mercy, as Bailli had done.
“Get them under control,” I told Viljo. His halberd came down on the ice, hard. Crack. More guards joined him, from all around the walls, setting up the familiar rhythm. But this time, the rhythm was under my control. Even Eirhan looked nervous.
When the hall was silent again, Viljo thrust his halberd in the air. The guards froze. “Minister Olloi,” I said. Olloi gaped at me. “You lied to me. I told you what would happen. Make your peace by the morning.”