Page 11 of Lady's Steed
The citizens of Daerva wept the demise of their queen and most likely an era because Avera had no idea what to do next. Becoming the leader of a country so suddenly hadn’t changed her and yet people immediately began to act differently.
It began with Gustav who dropped to a knee and thumped his chest. “All hail, Queen Avera.”
A scramble ensued as doctors and attendants followed suit, mumbling their pledge.
The only one to lag? Benoit remained standing until Sir Gustav barked, “Lord Brandy, are you disrespecting our monarch?”
“You’ll have to excuse me. The change in my status is more abrupt than expected,” drawled the ex-consort who was once more simply a lord. Only blood heirs inherited the royal titles.Husbands and wives returned to their former status upon the death of a royal spouse.
While the obeisance made her uncomfortable, Avera knew better than to tell them to cease. She’d not taken lessons on leadership, but she knew how important pomp and ceremony could be. Every culture she’d studied had its own version. To allow disrespect now would create a crack that could easily widen for someone with her inexperience.
“My Queen, perhaps you would like to adjourn elsewhere while the body is prepared for cremation?” Duke Petturi asked while still kneeling with head bowed.
“Yes, of course.” She almost said, “Excuse me,” only to realize these people now catered to her. If she’d declared she would stay, they would have nodded and agreed because that was how it worked. However, she wasn’t about to become a tyrant on her first day. She’d save that for when she found the traitor.
As she left the room with Gustav trailing behind, she murmured, “Now what?”
“Now, we bury your family. Given the number of deaths, I imagine it will take a few days of preparation. During that time, plan your tiara ceremony.” While Avera had never attended one—since the queen had ruled her entire life—she’d read and heard about them. Essentially, she’d be in the throne room, surrounded by as many lords and ladies as could fit, to receive the ceremonial crown and vow to take care of Daerva. Then with the tiara on her head—and hopefully secured so it didn’t fall off—she’d ride Luna through the city, waving and smiling so that the people could see her and cheer.
The whole thing sounded inane. After all, she became queen the moment her mother died, but ritual would cement her new role in people’s minds.
“I don’t have a dress fancy enough,” Avera murmured. She kept her wardrobe plain. The last royal event she’d attended—at her mother’s behest—was the queen’s marriage to Benoit.
“I’ll speak to Violette. I’m sure she’s already speaking to a seamstress about creating something for the event,” Gustav said.
“Surely it can wait a few days while Violette mourns.” A kind woman, the maid in charge of the queen’s appearance always had a smile for the queen’s youngest, mostly ignored, daughter.
“Knowing Violette, she’d prefer to be working,” was his dry reply. The familiarity of the comment made Avera wonder about the rumors claiming Violette and Gustav were amorously involved. “Once your mother’s body is removed, the cleaners will work on preparing the royal suite for you.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Must I use it? That room gets terrible light.”
“The lack of wide windows makes it safer.”
“Is it? Mother was attacked in her own chamber.” The blood stain on the carpet that she’d had to step over as she left was a stark reminder of what happened.
Gustav’s lips tightened. “Because they came through a secret passage.”
“Secret passage?” Avera’s lips parted. “I wasn’t aware the palace had any.”
“Neither was I but it turns out there’s a network of them. It’s only because your mother stopped her assassin that we found them in the first place. The assassin left the compartment open for a quick escape.”
“I wouldn’t say no one knew,” Avera murmured. “Someone had to have told these killers how to access them.”
“I’ll be looking into that first thing,” was his grim reply.
She glanced at Gustav. “Mother told me to find the traitor, or traitors as it may be, and make an example of them.”
“She is right.Wasright,” he corrected. “The coordination and inside knowledge required couldn’t have happened without help.”
“Given I survived, how likely is it they try again?”
Gustav sighed. “Very. Whoever planned this wanted the entire Voxspira bloodline dead.”
“Meaning I’m not safe.” Avera glanced at the wall. “They could even be hiding in the palace, waiting their chance as we speak.”
“They could be, but not likely. I’ve had knights and pawns scouring the passages.”
The plural of his statement had her asking, “How many secret corridors are there?”