Page 65 of Ruby & Onyx

Around and around, I go, wandering just like my mind. After quite some time, I start to wonder if I’ll be able to find my bedroom again. Why does it all look the same?

“Radya?” A wispy female voice calls out from behind me.

“Ah!” I nearly send the candle flying as my body filters the surprise. I turn around to find Queen Eleanor standing across from me, haunting the opposite side of the hallway with her radiant glow. “I’m sorry! You startled me.”

“What are you doing up so early? And on this side of the palace?” Her voice is soft, listless, almost as if I woke her from a fit of sleepwalking.

“I couldn’t sleep. I was looking for the kitchen to make a cup of tea, but clearly, I took a wrong turn.” I struggle to meet her gaze, so I stare blankly at the walls instead. Now that I know the origin of her radiance, it’s difficult to see her in the same light. Immortality – that’s what she was seeking when Sir Magis accidentally imparted it upon her. “What are you doing up at this hour?”

“My days are long and unforgiving.” Exhaustion wracks through her weary voice.

“But you’re the queen, shouldn’t your life be… easy?” Isn’t that what she told me? That life as queen would be all luxury and leisure?

Her eyes blink wildly as she looks at me as if realizing for the first time with whom she’s speaking. “You’re right, my dear. I have no complaints.” A tired, placating smile rises to her lips.

We both know that isn’t true, but who am I to call out the queen’s lies? I do wonder, though, what it is that plagues her, keeping her wandering the halls amid the twilight hours. But that’s not for me to ask.

Instead, I shift the subject toward the problem that’s been plaguing me. “Do you have any news on the assassin?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” she says.

“What is unfortunate about finding the person responsible?” I find myself tugging at the ends of my hair and wincing at the sharp pain that prickles my scalp.

She looks at me with an apologetic smile. “Some people do not support our decision to welcome you into this family.”

I suck in a breath, frozen by the hard truth pinning my heart. This is but one more consequence of my existence. I did not choose this. I did not choose any of this. Not even I believe that I should be here.

“Why send an assassin for a simple disagreement? Why couldn’t they try to talk to me or find some other way to work this out?” Perhaps that is a naïve thought. Perhaps those troubles plaguing the queen are far greater than I imagined.

“Lord Sherrod has been a dissenter since the beginning,” she says, and the name shoots like ice through my veins.

I remember him. He asked me why he should accept me as the future queen. I froze, unsure of how to defend a question to which I didn’t know the answer. Did that mistake almost cost me my life?

“What will happen to him?”

“Nothing.” She tucks a lock of golden hair behind her ear and sighs with resignation.

“What do you mean nothing will happen? How can he go without punishment?”

“We can’t afford to lose his support at this moment.”

“Is his support worth more than my life?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing right now. “Olly promised that whoever was responsible would not live to see another day. Now you know the culprit and are choosing to do nothing?”

She straightens, adjusting the sleeves of her robe. “Things are not always that black and white, my dear.”

I stand there gaping like a fool, speechless and stunned. He sent an assassin to end my life and will go unpunished for it. How am I ever going to sleep again, knowing that any member of this court who finds me unworthy can make an attempt on my life without repercussions? I’m going to be sick.

She shifts in the uncomfortable silence, and her assessing gaze scans over me. “Have you considered our arrangement any further?”

The arrangement? She just admitted that my life is worthless to her, and now she wants to discuss my marriage to her son? She must have lost her mind. I choke through a bitter laugh to say, “I have not.”

“Not much time remains for you, my dear. Only a week, yes?”

I’m not sure if that was a question or a threat.

“A little over a week,” I correct.

“Of course, my mistake.” Her eyes narrow on me as if searching for a clue—some indication of where I stand. “But still, that’s not much time. What’s holding you back? Is it Olly that gives you pause?”

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