“Diamonds?” Queen Eugenia asks with a laugh. “Surely we didn’t spend thirty million asters on diamonds, Sophronia.”
“No,” Sophronia allows, looking down at the stack of papers she brought with her, containing highlights of the account documents she and Leopold have spent the last few nights going over. “No, it looks like diamonds and other jewels cost three million this month. Various parties and celebrations totaled ten million—”
“Well, the wedding was a large expense,” Lord Covier interrupts.
“My dowry paid for the wedding,” Sophronia tells him. “It wasn’t included in my calculations. Shall we talk about the gifts?”
“What gifts?” Queen Eugenia asks.
Sophronia searches her papers again. “There was the one-million-aster hunting lodge you bought for Lord Haverill, the six-hundred-thousand-aster necklace you gave Lady Reves, and the”—Sophronia feigns a squint for added drama, though she knows exactly what she’s looking at—“solid gold tennis racket that you had made for Sir Eldrick that cost a particularly magnanimous nine hundred thousand asters.”
Queen Eugenia’s gaze hardens, but she meets Sophronia’s stare. “I like to think that generosity toward friends is a positive trait, Sophie.”
Friends, Sophronia thinks. Eugenia has no friends at court. Which makes the extravagant gifts all the more perplexing.
“Perhaps it would be more generous if any of that money was spent in Temarin,” Sophronia replies. “But the lodge is just across the Bessemian border, the necklace came from Cellaria, and the tennis racket was custom-made in Friv. I’m sure their economies are very grateful for your generosity.”
Queen Eugenia purses her lips like she’s tasted something sour. “I can’t help but feel quite targeted here,” she says, her voice tight.
“Apologies, Genia,” Sophronia says with a blinding smile before turning toward the man to her left. “Lord Covier, I understand you raised taxes on your domain more than ten percent over the last year? Shall we delve into the impressive gambling debts you’ve racked up that your tenants are paying for?”
Beside her, Leopold gives a snort of laughter that he tries to disguise as a cough, while Lord Covier turns a curious shade of puce.
“You are oversimplifying matters, Your Majesty,” Lord Verning says. “Many other factors contribute to the decision to raise taxes. Infrastructure costs, the salaries of those paid by the crown…our war treasury, should we ever need it. It’s far more complicated than you might realize.”
“Do you think so?” Sophronia asks, furrowing her brow and shuffling her papers to bring another to the front. “Because I have the numbers for all of those things you mentioned, as well as Temarin’s budgets for several other necessary aspects of running a country. Shall we go over them one by one? I’m particularly interested in this one, which shows that significant amounts of money have actually been withdrawn from Temarin’s war chest, without any indication of what was done with that money.”
She watches Eugenia closely as she pushes the piece of paper to the center of the table so they can see it clearly, the relevant sections underlined by Sophronia herself when Leopold handed them to her last night. It was worse than Sophronia had imagined—when King Carlisle died, Temarin’s war chest totaled over five billion asters. Now it totals less than fifty million. Barely enough to pay for food rations for their troops for two months, certainly not enough to pay for weaponry or build up defenses. And if Cellaria attacks by sea like they did in the Celestian War, Temarin will not be able to afford to use the fleet Leopold’s father spent so much time and money assembling. They are, as of now, defenseless.
And there it is—the flash of fear on Eugenia’s face. Not fear at the situation or what it means, but the fear of someone who has been caught. It isn’t guilt, not quite, but it’s close. She quickly smooths it over with a smile.
“A misunderstanding, I’m sure,” she says, picking up the piece of paper to take a closer look. “I’ll have a word with our accountants about it, but I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for the withdrawals. After all, Temarin hasn’t had need of its war chest in two decades, and as you said, we are in the middle of a financial crisis. Perhaps it was decided that the money would be more useful elsewhere.”
“By whom, exactly?” Leopold asks. Sophronia realizes she’s never heard him angry before, not even last night when she explained exactly what the documents meant. He’s angry now, though, his voice quiet and steady but his eyes blazing. “Because the document shows that those withdrawals were made after my father’s death, but I certainly never signed off on them.”
An uneasy silence falls over the table, only broken when Queen Eugenia leans across the table to take hold of her son’s hand. “Oh, Leo,” she says with a soft smile. “Your father would be so proud to see you take control of things, but darling, you must remember that he trusted Lord Covier, Lord Verning, and me to help you rule. Sometimes we had to make some small decisions in your absence—it is our duty to you and to Temarin. It was your father’s final wish.”
Sophronia sees the moment Leopold begins to soften and doubt the numbers he’s seen with his own eyes. She braces herself for his reversal, but instead he shakes his head.
“My father’s final wish was for me to be king,” he says. “I don’t think I have been a good one so far, but I will be. And I intend to start by finding out exactly what happened to the war chest and replenishing it immediately.” He pulls his hand from his mother’s and leans back in his seat. “We can go through the accounts item by item if you like, but I will be lowering Temarin’s countrywide taxes by half next month, and Kavelle’s city taxes as well.”
The three council members splutter. “Your Majesty, that number is far too great,” Lord Covier says. “Perhaps we can work toward it in time, but one percent might be a more reasonable—”
“Half,” Leopold repeats. “Sophronia and I have gone over our accounts and there will be some sacrifices to make, but I assure you it is doable and necessary, given the damage our careless spending has wrought on our subjects over the last year. In addition, I would like to make it known that no nobleman’s regional taxes can exceed ten percent of a commoner’s income.”
It’s a plan he and Sophronia came to together, after going over the accounts—a number small enough so that the people may recover their losses from past months while allowing them to also live and save for the future, but large enough to cover necessities and begin rebuilding the war chest in case those funds cannot be recovered. Hearing Leopold lay out the plan in his clear voice, with a steady gaze that betrays no weakness, is enough to make her swoon a bit.
“It is too much, Your Majesty,” Lord Verning says, shaking his head. “Your court will be devastated by the loss of their income.”