Page 45 of Her Dark Reflection

This painted an entirely different colour over my conversation with the Grand Paptich. I needed to think it over properly before I met with the king. ‘Draw me a bath, please,’ I said, turning back to the cabinet and unlocking it as I heard her footsteps leave the room. Only when the door slicked shut did I raise the partition and reveal the mirror lurking behind the false backing. The sight of my reflection made me shudder, but I stood still and let the magic do its work, turning my face icy and numb before I slid the panel back into place with a sigh of relief.

The whole episode reeked of conspiracy. Someone had put Mrs Corkill up to searching my room and someone had made sure Leela was out of the way to do it. I couldn’t see the housekeeper locking a maid in a room, or even of seeing a reason to make sure Leela was out of the way before she searched the place. So, who held such a grudge against me that they would orchestrate such a plot? Surely, it was no coincidence that Mrs Corkill had treated me to an echo of some of what the Grand Paptich had said to me.

I was rattled. But at least I now knew one thing. There was someone who was willing to act on their grudge against me, and that was a dangerous thing. I needed to make myself difficult to be rid of.

And I had the perfect solution to that.

Ifyouwantaman to marry you, of course you cannot ask him directly.

First, I made sure Linus saw me as a restricted commodity. When he sent for me, I took my time to arrive. Once, I didn’t show up at all. When he questioned me on where I’d been, I told him I had other obligations outside of him. When he raged, I said, ‘I’m not your wife!’ and started to cry. Though it rankled, I knew the power of well-timed tears. But I was careful to only say this once. I’d planted the seed. He wouldn’t forget it.

Bit by bit, I fed him a sad story of bad luck and woe, little breadcrumbs for him to follow to the inevitable conclusion that I was some sort of fallen angel, a victim of terrible circumstances, too good for the life I led. I told him how much I appreciated him rescuing me from that life, made him feel omnipotent.

I paid careful attention to his worries and the things he shared with me, ensuring I asked after those worries periodically to make him see how good it felt to be the centre of my attention. When he stressed about an upcoming political engagement, I talked about how much I wished I could support him in person instead of being forced to watch helplessly from the sidelines. I wished aloud that we could have met in another life, where he wasn’t so above my station, where there weren’t such powerful forces keeping us from belonging to one another, sounding like a smitten lover who wished to spend every moment with him while subtly implying his impotence. I wanted to suggest that there was something keeping him from making decisions about his happiness. Powerful men hate to feel that there are things beyond their control. They especially don’t want their lovers feeling it.

Once, when I was lying in the wet patch of his crumpled sheets and he hadn’t taken off snoring yet, I admitted to dreams of having a family, a handful ofadorablechildren. When he said he’d love for me to bear him children, I pulled away, turning cold enough that he roused, kept me from leaving, begged to know what troubled me.

‘Any children I bore would be bastards,’ I whispered. ‘I couldn’t inflict that on a child.’ I refused to stay the night, begging for some space. Again, maintaining his view of me as a restricted commodity was paramount. He needed to think there were parts of me he could not access, not without giving me what I wanted.

Finally, one morning I visited him to say goodbye. When he was shocked that I would even consider leaving, I began to cry. I told him our time together had made me realise I couldn’t be just a maisera anymore. That I wanted a family, a husband, and that I couldn’t stand to be just his mistress, no matter how much I loved him. I told him that, even though I didn’t think I could love another man the way I loved him, to love someone even half as much would be better than the life I led before. Mentioning a husband was important—the spectre of another man would rile him in a way my tears couldn’t.

A king is used to getting what he wants, is used to the women in his bed simply pleasuring him and doing exactly what he wants of them. And thanks to my enchanted apple, he was still so intensely in love with me that the idea of me being out of his reach drove him mad.

He raged. I weathered it, refusing to give in to his demands, refusing to react. He couldn’t win the argument, and he knew it; I had the moral high ground. When his temper drained away, when his pleading still wouldn’t sway me, I took his hands. I kissed them. I repeated my wish that things were different.

When he said, ‘there must be a way,’ I let him think, let the silence lay. And when he said, ‘if only I could marry you,’ I looked at him with wide-eyed wonder, as though the thought had only just occurred to me.

‘Why can’t you?’ I asked, my voice hushed, my face full of hope, my cheeks still wet with tears.

‘The council, the sanctum, they’d never allow it,’ he said.

I stared at him with the slightest challenge, just a trace. I didn’t want him to feel threatened by me in that moment. I wanted him to feel that I was helpless without him, and that he wanted to protect me. I wanted him to want to give me everything. But there needed to be just a hint that maybe I didn’t believe he would.

I took a deep breath and said, ‘Aren’t you the king?’

Linuswastense.Newsof our wedding had been swallowed by the council like a bowl full of barbs. The ceremony had been small, rushed, and with no prior application to the council for approval. If it weren’t for the fact that Linus had reigned for thirty years already, steering his council with a firm hand, and backed by their good faith, there might have been dire consequences.

Or so he told me. Now, the sanctum and the guild were taking their time in blessing the union, which meant for a delay in my elevation to Queen Consort. Linus had spent days locked in meetings, licking the boots of the Grand Weaver and Grand Paptich and the high lords of his council as they deliberated over whether his decision to marry me would lead to a civil war. He looked haggard and his face settled into a scowl whenever he was lost in thought.

We were in my new apartment, aroyalapartment, and I was fluttering from room to room, calling instructions to Leela on what was to be ordered and changed and kept. A handful of attendants trailed her as she followed me, a bevy of daughters and wives and sisters of council members that Linus had foisted upon me in hopes of smoothing some ruffled feathers.

‘Bankrupting the Crown in order to redecorate is not likely to endear you to the court,’ Linus grumbled as he watched me.

I waved him off. ‘I’m only making a few small changes. Besides, I highly doubt Milton and Dovegni are interested in what I am doing with my rooms.’ I ran my hand over a wall, frowning at the wallpaper, and flicked my wrist at Leela. She raised her eyebrows at the wallpaper and scribbled a quick note.

‘I don’t understand why you need their approval in any case. You’re the king. Why don’t you just bring them to heel?’ I continued as I moved on to the curtains, inspecting them closely.

He ran his hand over his face. ‘It is not that simple. The sanctum and the guild are not beholden to me. They wield their own independent power and half of my council is aligned with one or the other. I doubt they’d take up arms against me over something like this, but it strains our relationship, and that isn’t good for the country.’

I spun around and placed my hands on my hips. ‘It seems ridiculous that they have that kind of power.’

‘The Crown, the guild, and the sanctum are the three pillars of Brimordia, my love. The independence of each keeps the others in check. One man holding absolute power is only a good idea until it isn’t.’ He shook his head as I continued to frown at him, then slowed down his words, like he was speaking to a child. ‘It would take only one mad king to destroy the peace and prosperity that has taken generations to build if the Crown ruled completely. With the guild and sanctum retaining a voice in major decisions, it would take three mad men. And they’d have to be mad all at the same time.’

‘Well, you’re not mad. Surely, you could do away with all that,’ I said, waving a hand as though flicking at an insect. ‘Letting men like Milton and Dovegni act as a law unto themselves seems foolhardy. Especially Dovegni.’

‘You just don’t like him. That doesn’t mean he is a bad man.’

I frowned at the placating note of his voice. ‘I don’t trust him.’ I shot a look at the mob of attendants milling around Leela and lowered my voice to just above a whisper. ‘He and his underlings, all holed away in the anthill with their magic and their scheming. He could be doing anything in there.’

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