We halted in front of the Great Hall. Its closed double doors were engraved with the family crest: a winter rose in full bloom. A line of ministers blocked our way.
One minister stepped forward. I recognized him as Reko, minister of the people. He was a thin, sallow-skinned man, who wore rough robes of turned-out sheepskin, peasant garb that even Lyosha hadn’t lowered himself to wearing. He looked like a disgruntled fox trying to hide among the herbivores. His frown deepened as he saw the crowd that surrounded me. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Eirhan mirrored his movements, coming to stand in front of me. “We need someone to lead us.”
“We have someone to lead us,” Reko replied. “We have the grand duke.” That counted out a few of my theories. But why was I so necessary if my father or brother was still alive?
“The grand duke and the heir-elect can hardly be expected to lead in their current state.” Eirhan’s proclamation sent a ripple of murmurs through the growing crowd behind us. “We need a representative of strength, and we need it now. If it is Her Grace, so be it.”
I pulled back my shoulders and shifted my grasp on the scepter. I was an Avenko, and ruling was in my blood. My family held the balance between Above and Below, and that made me the most necessary person here.
“You advocate treason,” Reko challenged Eirhan. The delegation behind him bristled. I tried to attach titles to faces. I recognized Bailli, minister of the treasury. I thought of him as the walrus because of his bald head and the twin scars that slashed from the corners of his mouth down to his chin. He held the rest of my coronation regalia—the orb, the ducal ring, my father’s crown.
“Admit it, Reko,” Eirhan said softly. “You don’t care about her. You’ve been trying to dismantle the autocracy for years. If there’s no duke sitting on the throne, he can’t reject another proposal for a parliament, can he?”
Reko’s face turned ruddy. “How dare you—”
Mousy Minister Urso scurried between them. Over the years, he’d tried to be the peacemaker between Father and Mother, appealing to decency, dignity, and whatever else he could dredge up as motivation. I’d always considered him a fool for butting in on family arguments. Now I was glad that someone had dragged him out of bed. “Please, Reko,” he said. “I was of the same mind as you at first.”
“That mind seems to have wandered off,” Reko replied.
Eirhan hissed his disapproval, but Urso continued, hunching his shoulders. “The first night of the brideshow was a disaster. The delegates will continue to arrive throughout the week, and now we have no heir-elect to present to our allies. How many will remain our allies if they see we have no leader?”
I tried to cut in. “I’m not really—”
“They can treat with the ministers. They have no need to see our grand duke,” Reko said.
“I don’t need—” I said.
“The whole point of the brideshow is to be visible,” Eirhan said over me.
All my life, these men had ignored me. It had never bothered me until now. Grand dukes didn’t let their subordinates push and belittle them. Lifting the scepter, I used it to shove bodies out of the way until I stood at the front, facing Reko. “Stand aside,” I said in the best grand duke voice I could muster.
Reko bared his teeth, and ice skittered up my back. But I wasn’t about to show my fear. Fear was the enemy of my family. Fear was a demonstration of weakness. “The proper address is ‘Your Grace.’” I punctuated this with a swift poke of the scepter. Reko grunted as it hit him in the midriff. I shoved past him and pushed on the rose-relief doors.
Eirhan rallied behind this new development. “Ministers, Her Grace will have our attendance.” He swept in behind me. The others followed.
A sudden clang made me turn. A soldier stood in front of Aino, holding his halberd at a not-so-friendly angle. “Ministers only,” he said.
Heat swept through me. Using the scepter as a knife, I sliced through the crowd. Ministers fell away from me like meat peeling from bone. “Aino goes anywhere,” I told the guard, and he leaned away from the rage in my voice. “You will refuse her nothing.”
He stepped back, and she hurried through the door. Our hands clasped.
The Great Hall was still decorated for the brideshow. Our family crest hung on a two-story banner behind my father’s throne, and around the hall, smaller banners were hung for each brideshow delegate. Winter roses wound up the slim ice pillars that held the balconies aloft. This time, I ignored the scenes that lined the walls, and I tried to push recipes and serums and amulets out of my mind. I moved toward the throne, flanked by Eirhan and Aino. But as I walked, the events of the night solidified into weight that dragged at the hem of my dress.
I’m an Avenko, I tried to tell myself. I was born to this.
Besides, I only had to be duke until I found out what was going on.
I sat. Aino squeezed my hand, then retreated. The ministers fanned out around me, both those who had marched in my procession and those who stood against me. Minister Reko, glowering, held one hand to where I’d hit his stomach with the scepter.
The doors opened again to reveal my most unwelcome guest yet: King Sigis, foster brother and all-around undesirable. I frowned at Eirhan. What had happened to “ministers only”? But Eirhan bowed low as Sigis came up to us.
“I hear there is cause for condolences.” Sigis had a rich, smooth voice that others no doubt found soothing and attractive. He paired it with his most charming face and a royal red coat. Each silver button on the coat was in the shape of a wolf’s head. He wore two medals pinned to his chest and one around his neck, as if we’d forget how important he was if he didn’t constantly remind us. He drew back as he saw me, surprise flickering over his features. “Ekaterina. Are you truly your father’s successor?”
It occurred to me that I should answer him, but Sigis had already begun speaking to Yannush, the foreign minister. Yannush’s wiry brown beard, clipped to a crisp point, bobbed as he replied. I heard the phrases “grand duke,” “heir-elect,” and “rest of the family.” Yannush sounded as though he had a firmer grasp on the situation than I did.
I beckoned for Farhod. I wanted to bring Aino forward as well, but when I glanced at her, she shook her head. A servant did not stand next to a grand duke. “Give me the full story,” I said.
We ought to have spoken in private. I was too aware of the way my ministry pressed in. And Sigis, as a foreign king, shouldn’t have been involved at all. But Eirhan cleared his throat before I could suggest it, and the hall fell silent. “It began after two, Your Grace,” he said. “Her Grace your mother was found in a state of—” He licked his lips and looked back at Farhod. The entire hall seemed to lean forward.
Farhod swallowed and bowed to me again. I almost laughed, though that might have had something to do with the onset of panic. Farhod had yelled at me, lectured me, patted me on the shoulder when I’d done well, taken away my experiments when he thought I was going to blow up the palace. Now he had to treat me like a duke. “Her Grace was found in a motionless state and could not be roused.”
I parsed the words out in my mind. “Is my mother dead?”