CHAPTER THREE
All was silent for a moment. Three or four people clapped, a lonely sound in the Great Hall, and the noise died out quickly. I cleared my throat. “Thank you.”
Eirhan turned to the people below the dais. “Please return to your rooms. Anyone who wishes an audience with Her Grace may leave their name with the captain of the guard and will be summoned if their audience is granted. In the meantime, you will be afforded every comfort.”
Reko started forward with a face full of murder. The guards closed ranks in front of me and began to herd everyone toward the door. Someone shouted. Voices bounced off the walls, magnifying the sound. Heightening the closed-in, claustrophobic feeling.
Crack. Crack. The ends of the halberds came down on the floor as clear as bells. I jumped. The crown slipped down over one ear. Crack. Guards moved forward, pushing the crowd toward the back wall. Crack.
It was leave or get crushed. Ministers began to slip out through the open doors, and though we got plenty of angry looks, no one tried to break through the line. Eirhan’s commands were working.
Because Eirhan commands the guards. A chill rooted in my spine, and my fingers tightened around my iron scepter. Eirhan commanded the guards, not me. I was protected only as long as he desired it.
I tried to wipe my face clean of expression, the way I’d seen so many officials do, and straightened the crown on my head. As Eirhan and his guards finished clearing the room, I took stock of who was left. Farhod and Aino had stuck with Eirhan during the guards’ sweep and had avoided eviction. Now Farhod conferred with Eirhan.
Sigis was still here, too—the guards couldn’t push around a king the same way they could push around the rest of my court. “Well, well, little Ekata. Don’t you look… queenly.” He slid onto the glass throne reserved for my mother and folded his arms behind his head. Rings gleamed on every finger in red and gold and blue.
I tried not to wrinkle my nose. When Sigis lived with us, I did my best to ensure he couldn’t remember my name. My sudden increase in power might protect me from his casual cruelties, but as I’d grown, so had he. Instead of arranging “accidents” or telling tales that would increase Father’s ire, he could renege on agreements or incite other delegates to hostility.
“What will you do with all the foreign delegates? Around half have yet to arrive, if I count correctly,” he said.
Why do you care? I opened my mouth to say something clever. “You’re sitting in my mother’s chair.” Great job, Ekata.
“Your mother’s chair, or the grand consort’s chair?” He winked at me as he got up. Then he bowed, eyeing the scepter and the orb still clutched in my hands. “If there’s one thing the Avenko family has always been able to provide, it is an entertaining evening. Thank you for this one. Do feel free to call on me. I might be able to impart some wisdom for your unexpected ascension, Your Grace.”
Spending time with my foster brother was the last thing that appealed to me. And why did he say Your Grace so silkily, as though he were trying to kiss the words? “Eirhan will arrange it.” Note: Tell Eirhan to avoid arranging anything with Sigis. At all costs.
Sigis winked again, then turned and strode through the doors of the Great Hall as if he owned them. I tried to rub the crawling feeling off the back of my neck.
Farhod bowed as Eirhan dismissed him, then came up to the dais. Aino joined us and put a hand on my shoulder. “What will you do?” she asked.
About what? The foreign delegates? Sigis? Being grand duke or potentially losing my entire, terrible family? “I don’t know.”
Aino smiled a tired, sad smile. “You can’t say that anymore, my dear. You’re in charge now.”
I squeezed the scepter until I could feel a pulse in my fingertips. I took a deep breath, then another, envisioning the slow inflation of my lungs, recalling the spongy press of tissue under a scalpel. I felt my panic recede. Maybe I didn’t want to be in charge, but I could be. I focused on Aino’s question. “We close off the palace and monitor for any cases of plague outside the walls. Delegates can’t be exposed.” Any more than they already were, anyway. “And we keep the brideshow guarded at all times. If everything goes wrong, the delegates must get their candidates back safely.”
“The confinement of the brideshow representatives could be seen as an abduction,” Farhod warned me.
“What do you suggest I do?” I snapped. Farhod was more of a chemist than a politician. Of course, a few hours ago, I would have said the same of myself.
His mouth quirked up. “Choose one and send the rest home?”
“Don’t you have work to do?”
His smile grew. “Would Her Grace like to excuse me or accompany me?”
I slid off the throne, catching the crown before it could fall off. “When did you become so political?”
“My lady,” he said, slipping back to my old title, “I have served kings, lords, dukes, and every manner of rich man. I would be a fool, indeed, if I didn’t learn something from them all.”
At least he was on my side. “Maybe if we can find the cure by lunch, we won’t have any diplomatic incidents.”
We did not find the cure by lunch.
Eirhan settled me in the duke’s chamber to the side of the Great Hall. As the sun edged over the eastern horizon, Aino poison-tested cup after cup of strong coffee, and Eirhan tried to wrap my head around my new situation.
“The most important thing for you to do as grand duke right now is to convince our visitors that Kylma Above is under control. We have everything we need—and everything they need, too.”
He handed me a single sheet. I unfolded it. And unfolded it. And unfolded it once more. My eyes crossed at the list of names and titles. “I’m supposed to memorize all these?”
Eirhan coughed behind his closed fist. “You’re supposed to recognize the delegates as you see them.”
“How? I’ve never seen these people before.”
“You have, Your Grace.” Eirhan turned his gaze to the ceiling, as if asking the goddess Sjiotha for strength.
I glared at the page. The words swam before me, and I picked a name at random. “When did I last see Bardur Erlyfsson?” From his name, I’d guess he was one of the jarls of the knotty, rain-soaked islands to the southwest. Father had given money and goods to fund wars with them over sea passages that were vital to trade.
“When he came for the peace talks two years ago,” Eirhan replied. “I would advise you to watch Erlyfsson carefully, Your Grace. Your father fought him, embargoed him, and opposed him for five years, and neither left the last peace talks with a satisfied heart. Erlyfsson’s daughter is part of the brideshow, and his army has been camped along the Kurus border all summer. He could use the brideshow as an excuse to break the peace.”
“All right, how about Friedrich von Ilmsbad?”
“Married your cousin.”
“Which one?” In my defense, cousins weren’t exactly a rare currency.
Eirhan rolled his eyes. I really did have to make that illegal. “Marya, your father’s niece. His outrageous bride price sponsored repairs to the outer wall around Kylma Above.”
“All right. I get the point. I’ll start learning the names.”