Long May She Reign(100)

“Because I thought it was the right side, Your Majesty. Maybe the Forgotten put you here, and maybe they didn’t, but you’re intelligent. You’re thoughtful. And it’s your throne by right. I thought it was best, for the kingdom.”

“Then thank you. I hope I live up to your expectations.”

“You have already exceeded them.” But his attention was distracted by movement at the entrance to the throne room.

My father stepped through the doorway, looking as he always had. Not much thinner, not much more worn, except by travel. He smiled as our eyes met, lowering his head slightly in respect. “Apologies for my lateness, Your Majesty. Do you have time for one more pledge?”

I ran to him, my heels clinking on the floor, and threw my arms around him. My momentum nearly knocked us over, and my father laughed. “Steady, Freya. Try to have some queenly decorum.” His words were warm, vibrant. I hugged him tighter. He patted the back of my head. “It’s good to see you, too, Freya.”

I stepped back slightly to look at him again. “You’re all right? You look like you’re all right. I was worried that—”

“I do have some ability to charm people,” he said. “It worked on your mother and her court, after all.” He shook his head. “Sten thought what he was doing was just. Not kind, maybe, but just. I think he genuinely believed you were responsible. And he had no proof I was involved.”

“Still,” I said. If anyone had been captured by my side, if my advisers had had their way, they would not have remained unscathed. My advisers thought they were being just, too, but their view of justice had become slightly twisted. “I’m glad you’re all right.”

“You too, Freya.” He cupped my chin with his hand. “Your mother would be so proud of you. She was always proud of you, but if she could see what you’ve become . . .” He swallowed. “I’m proud of you, Freya. I know we haven’t always understood each other, but—I am proud of you.” He cleared his throat, looking suddenly uncomfortable, and stepped back. “Well,” he said. “I suppose we had better start rebuilding your council. There is still a lot of work to be done.”

“Yes. Of course.” I smiled at him, and he smiled back. “I’ll leave you and Holt to catch up.”

With the duties of the day done, I wandered down to my laboratory. I would have to pack everything away again, all the notes, all the instruments . . . I’d proven the value of a scientist queen, and I wasn’t going to put that aside now. My experiments had saved my life, more than once.

Fitzroy was waiting inside. Of course he was. My heart jumped when I saw him, but I had no idea how to feel about him now. Everything had been so focused on survival, but now we had survived, and he was still here, still Fitzroy, still my friend, still someone who had lied to me. What could I possibly do with all that?

He looked up as I closed the door. “Freya. I was hoping you’d come here.”

“I’m bound to show up eventually.” I walked farther into the room, taking in the instruments on the walls, the strange stains on the floor. “We’re moving back to the palace. We just decided.”

“Putting things back to normal?”

“Not quite. But something like that.” I ran my hand along the rough wood of the center table. “I’ll miss this place.” I’d made so many discoveries in this dark, depressing space, truths about science, truths about myself. It would be strange to let it crumble into history again.

“You could come back,” Fitzroy said. “To the lab, at least.”

I shook my head. It was a makeshift lab for a makeshift queen. Things would be different now.

I caught Fitzroy staring at me, and quickly looked away, pretending to shuffle through my notes. But there was no reason for me to look at them now. No distraction for us, no way to work through the awkwardness. I felt like I had to say something, but I didn’t know what. I couldn’t be honest when I didn’t even know the truth of my feelings, myself.

“I’m sorry,” I said eventually, almost too soft to hear.

“Because you locked me up?” He didn’t sound accusatory, just—like he was checking.

“Because I had to.” It was all the truth I had to offer.

Fitzroy nodded. “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t—you have to understand. I thought I was protecting myself, but—I was wrong. I should have trusted you.”

“You should have,” I said. “I trusted you.” It was too late to change it now. He opened his mouth, like he was going to say something else, and I could feel the weight of it in the air, the way things would shift . . . and then he turned away, shaking his head. “You know there’ll be consequences,” he said. “For claiming the Forgotten chose you. People are going to expect a lot.”

“It can’t be worse than execution.” I forced myself to smile. “And how do you know I’m not their chosen one? You saw that lightning.”

He didn’t seize the joke. He stared at me, his expression still serious. “You don’t believe that.”

“No. But others will.” I looked back at him, William Fitzroy, not a prince but son of a king. Far kinder and far cleverer than I had ever imagined. My friend. My—something. But he had lied to me. I understood why, but . . . he hadn’t trusted me.