Page 66 of Her Dark Reflection

Trade matters were voted on, and Boccius finally called for any other business before closing the meeting.

‘I have a matter I wish to bring before the council,’ I said, my voice steady and clear, my spine straight as all eyes in the room turned on me.

Lord Boccius offered me a patronising smile. ‘A matter, Your Royal Highness? What sort of matter?’

‘A decision needs to be made on the vacancy of the position of Grand Cofferer of the Wardrobe. Several candidates have been proposed to me and I would like advice on choosing between the two I believe are most acceptable.’

‘The reigning monarch—or temporary regent, as it were—usually makes such appointments at their own discretion to allow more pressing matters to occupy the council.’ Boccius paused and glanced at Lord Kewin across the table, and the two exchanged a smirk before he turned back to me. ‘But please, if you believe this requires our attention, by all means, proceed.’

‘The two candidates that I believe are most suitable are the High Lord of Terame and the High Lord of Welkin. Both come highly recommended, and I believe both are deserving of an office at court.’ I folded my hands in my lap and kept my face carefully blank as Milton sat up straighter.

Dovegni leaned forward, ready to seize the chance to further his influence, as I knew he would. Welkin was the brother of a druthi high in the ranks of the guild. ‘The High Lord of Welkin is a strong candidate. He is young, eager, and his family has shown unwavering loyalty to the crown for generations.’

‘A family that has been reclusive,’ Milton cut in, a heavy frown marking his face. ‘Welkin is barely out of boyhood, and I have never known his late father to attend court. You can hardly support his right to office over that of my own nephew.’

Milton may not have been watching Boccius, but I was, and I saw the disgust that flicked across his face.

Milton and Dovegni argued back and forth for a few minutes, each presenting the virtues of their candidate as the rest of the council looked ready to dose off. Until, finally, Boccius sat forward.

‘Terame is a completely inappropriate candidate. He is a known gambler with creditors spotted all over the kingdom. I’ll not be surprised if he bankrupts his territory in his lifetime. He is the last man anyone would want involved with managing a coffer. Welkin shall have the position.’ He sat back and crossed his arms, nodding at Dovegni.

Milton wore a scowl that seemed to drag the rest of his face into it, but he said nothing as he studied Boccius. He commanded more loyalty on the council than Dovegni, but he couldn’t win a majority with Boccius and his supporters throwing in their lot against him. And on a matter of such small importance, all were likely to vote with an eye on nurturing alliances. The vote was cast, and Lord Terame lost.

‘Very well. I will notify Lord Welkin at once. Thank you for you counsel, gentlemen.’ I rose from my seat, and the council rose with me. They began milling about and tittering amongst themselves as I withdrew from the table, and luck would have it that Dovegni moved towards Boccius and engaged him in low conversation. I watched Milton watch them, and when I caught his glance he gave me the slightest nod, which I answered with a slow smile, before leaving the room.

In the end, I didn’t even need Gwinellyn to cast a vote. Once Milton’s vote was secured, all it took was a discreet gift of funds to the guild’s scholarship program to win Dovegni’s. After all, there was no alliance between Boccius and Dovegni. The rest of the council wouldn’t vote against the two most powerful players and risk being seen as subversive, and I was named regent within the fortnight. Boccius, the buffoon, never stood a chance.

Ibeganmyreignsaddled with a treacherous council and a stepdaughter who spent even more time in the infirmary than she had before her father’s death. I visited her frequently, but she spoke only on trivial things, such as the progress of the beech trees that had been planted in an avenue through the Summer Garden, or the state of the little herb patch she had established and tended herself. Her sleeplessness was written in the dark circles beneath her eyes, making her beauty seem more fragile and ethereal than ever.

Council and stepdaughter aside, the court itself was a source of irritation. The courtiers I had seen so often hanging from Linus now pestered me even more for favours, and their words were as sweet as honey in my presence but as sharp as knives as soon as my back was turned. Leela was as unflinching and honest as ever in her reports to me, never sparing me from the harshest gossip, knowing as I did how it was more important for me to know the real feelings of the court rather than to flatter my pride with a softer version.

They called me the Whore Queen.

Those who thought the sudden death of the king so soon after our wedding too suspicious even called me the Evil Queen.

But they could call me whatever they wanted. I was still queen.

And I lived as though no one could touch me. I rose late every morning and took to breakfasting in my bedroom, rarely emerging before midday to attend to the business of the day. I refused to engage in the myriad of ceremonies and rituals that had always attended Linus’s morning routine, insisting on only Leela serving and dressing me before noon. This offended a mass of noblemen and the daughters and wives they had hoped to foster on me, so I soothed tempers by assigning a host of new roles to the more public parts of my day. Even the cupbearer had an assistant by the time I was through. Those arrangements meant I spent the first few weeks of my reign with a permanent headache, but it was worth it to have those few quiet hours of peace in the mornings.

I was highly protective of that peace, so when Draven swept into my room one day with no warning, no knock, no announcement from the guards stationed at the entrance to my apartments, my first reaction was anger. I hadn’t finished my breakfast and my sanctuary was already being invaded. The identity of the invader hardly mattered.

‘What have you done with my guards?’

He arched an eyebrow. ‘I’ve not touched them. They are right where you left them.’

‘Then how did you get into my private apartment unannounced? They wouldn’t have just let you in. They’re under strict instructions to bar entry to almost everyone.’ My irritation did me the favour of hiding my shock. My heartbeat felt heavy and unsteady as I took him in, his dark hair dishevelled, his posture casual as he leaned against the doorframe with his arms folded, and I considered firing my entire retinue of personal guards. ‘Did you scale the wall and climb in through a window?’

He didn’t reply, only watched me with that unflinching gaze. Well, if he had a purpose for being here, I certainly wasn’t going to wring it out of him. I slowly continued to eat, keeping my expression mild. I paid careful attention to my plate as I selected my next bite, my fork hovering in the air before finally skewering a mushroom and popping it into my mouth. The flavour really was sensational, buttery with just a hint of lemon, and I chewed slowly, savouring every moment as the tension in the room steadily rose.

‘If you’ve quite finished your breakfast—’ Draven began, his voice quiet but taut as a bowstring ready to snap.

‘I haven’t,’ I interrupted. ‘Perhaps you’d care to wait outside until I’m done?’

He paced towards me and leaned over the table, placing his hands either side of my plate. ‘I would not care to wait outside.’

I shrugged and turned my eyes back to my plate. ‘Suit yourself.’

His fingers began to drum a steady beat on the tabletop as I picked up a piece of bread and smothered it with raspberry jam, acting for all the world like the brute wasn’t looming over me.

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