Long May She Reign(32)

I couldn’t imagine ever being more confident.

“Do not worry, Your Majesty,” Holt said. “Etiquette matters, yes, but you do not need to attempt to emulate our departed queen. And you must not emulate our king, the Forgotten protect his soul. So much has changed. Perhaps it is best to embrace that.”

I paused. “What do you mean?”

“King Jorgen . . . I do not wish to speak ill of him, of course. And he guided us in his own way. But so much has changed now. Perhaps it is time for something new. Less waste, Your Majesty. Less show. More heart.”

But without all the rules and rituals, what did I have left? Just me, hiding beneath twenty layers of skirts. Perhaps Madeleine could act naturally and show her heart, but only because her heart was what everyone wanted to see. Not me.

“My father thinks I should try and—” What had it been? “Try to make things smoother. Make it so people don’t feel the difference between my reign and the previous one.”

“But of course they’ll feel the difference. As painful as it is for all of us to admit, almost everything about the old court is gone. And this . . . this is an opportunity, Your Majesty. A great one. The Forgotten have given us a chance. We must not waste it.”

“The Forgotten?” I swallowed. “You think they wanted everyone to die?”

“Not that, Your Majesty. But perhaps it was more than coincidence that you were not in the palace when the poison was served. I can see their hands in that, guiding the situation as they desired, helping us to help ourselves.”

As though the Forgotten would have guided the kingdom toward me. But Holt seemed sincere. “Do you really think they can still influence things?”

“They are divine, Your Majesty. They are not constrained by the laws of this world, as we are. Yes, they are gone physically, but their influence remains.”

“I thought they chose to leave. Why would they keep influencing things here if they wanted to be gone?”

“They left because we failed them. We did not deserve their presence. But they want us to be worthy. We have been climbing toward worthiness for hundreds of years, away from ambition, away from war, from all the brutal darkness of our past. But we were still extravagant, selfish, and wasteful, and they cannot abide that. So perhaps . . . perhaps, Your Majesty, they chose you as a different type of queen. One they could support. One who could make Epria into a land they could return to again.”

If the Forgotten were really all-seeing divine beings, they would have chosen someone better than me. Even Holt had to see that. Did he really believe all he was saying, or was it a comforting lie he was telling himself, to reason away so many deaths? To make my cluelessness seem like a gift and not the result of a senseless tragedy?

If he believed it . . . it probably meant I could trust him. And if he didn’t . . .

“I hope you’re right,” I said. “I hope this all goes somewhere good.”

“It will, Your Majesty. As long as you remember that the Forgotten chose you. You, not King Jorgen, not his brother, not even the delightful Madeleine Wolff. They value your strengths. And so should you.”

My strengths had nothing to do with being queen. But I nodded. He had faith in me, at least. That was more than most people had. It was more than I could honestly say for myself.

“Then . . .” I let out a breath, steeling myself. “I need you to help me. Please. I need a list of everyone at the banquet, everyone who died, everyone who survived. I should know all I can about the remaining court. Shouldn’t I?”

He nodded. “Of course, Your Majesty. Your concern does you credit. I will see that it is done.”

“And then could you get me a copy of Gustav’s book? My strength is with research, and if I can understand—”

He held up a hand. “That, Your Majesty, I cannot do. I certainly do not have a copy, and I do not believe it would help. These people now calling themselves Gustavites . . . their beliefs are a corruption of a corruption, far detached from the man’s original views. They use the memory of his words to serve their own ends, and hope people will not see the flaws in their logic. Here, let me see . . .” He pulled one of his desk drawers open and shuffled through the contents. “Yes.” He pulled out a weather-battered pamphlet and handed it to me. I took one glance at it, and my fingers tightened around the paper, bile rising to the back of my throat. It was cheaply printed, the lines thick and blurry, but the imagery was unmistakable. The king lay on the ground, gold piled around him, a spilled goblet rolling from his hand. The queen lay next to him, with a line across her throat that must have been blood. And I stood on top of them, pressing them into the ground, dripping with jewels, sipping from a goblet of my own.

“Kill the Corruption,” it said at the top. Below the picture, more words had been hastily printed, calling the court and my rule an affront to the Forgotten, rallying against the wickedness it claimed we spread through the kingdom.

“Where did you get this?”

“They’ve been scattered around the city. We don’t know who actually distributed them. But you see, Freya. Their views aren’t based on reason. They aren’t based on anything.”

“These are all over the city?”

“Some parts of it, yes. We have destroyed any we’ve found. And we are increasing security, of course, adding more patrols and searching the printing presses. We will stop them.”