Long May She Reign(70)

“Lots of reasons,” he said. “I think Sten’s wrong. You didn’t kill my father, and you definitely don’t deserve to die. I think you’ll be a good queen. And travel is so annoying. All that dust, and never having anywhere to sleep? Why would I choose that?”

I laughed, but the tension remained in my chest.

“Plus,” he added, his voice slightly lower. I could sense him arranging the vials beside me, still working, constantly moving. “I like you.”

I turned my head to look at him. He was studying the jars. “You like me?”

“Of course. What’s not to like?”

“I—” He was speaking so casually. What did he mean? Was he saying he liked me as in “We’re friends, of course I wouldn’t betray you”? Or as in “You’re not an awful person, and I’m happy for you to be queen”? Or . . . or did he mean he liked me, as in he liked me? As in had feelings for me?

I should ask him.

I was definitely not going to ask him.

“Are you ready?” I said, with more confidence than I felt. “We’ll start with the copper.”

Fitzroy raised his eyebrows at that, but then he nodded.

The first two attempts yielded nothing of use. The copper was uninterested in reacting, the iron similarly bored. Then I tossed in some zinc.

The reaction was almost immediate. The zinc fizzed, releasing a gas that smelled strongly of garlic.

“Get back,” Fitzroy said. “It could be poisonous.”

But I just stared at the gas. A reaction. I’d finally gotten a reaction, a visible, testable reaction. Had I done it?

I had to be sure. “Quick. Fetch me some food.”

“Food?”

“So I can poison it! I need to lace something with arsenic, and then test it, to make sure it works.” I waved my right hand at him, already reaching for more of the powder with my left. “Fetch some, quickly, quickly!”

Fitzroy nodded and strode out of the lab, and I laughed. Spirit of niter and zinc! I’d known the answer was lurking here somewhere. I’d known I could do it.

I grabbed another bowl and filled it with more acid, ready for Fitzroy’s return.

When he finally came back, he carried a piece of bread with jam spread on top. It had a bite taken out of it—he must have stolen someone’s supper. I sprinkled arsenic powder into the jam, stirring it with a knife until it vanished, and then took a glob of it and added it to the acid. I threw in another piece of zinc and waited.

Another cloud of garlicky gas burst out.

“I did it,” I said, as Fitzroy pulled me away from the still-streaming gas. “I did it!” I wanted to jump up and down. I wanted to spin on the spot. I wanted to squeal. And why not? I did all three at once, the world spinning around me, already slightly dizzy from how wide I was grinning. And Fitzroy was there, grinning too, looking at me like . . . like I was someone who’d just figured out how to jump up to the moon, like I’d figured out how to fly, like I could solve all the world’s mysteries if I put my mind to it. So I threw my arms around him, pulling him close, still laughing and squealing. He pressed his hands against my back, holding me steady, and another thrill ran over my skin, the sense of him so close.

I giggled and twisted back to look at the central table again.

“Now we have to test the cake,” I said. “Just to be sure.”

The poisoned sponge was growing mold in a cupboard. I hoped the addition wouldn’t affect the test.

It didn’t. That test worked, too. Fizzing zinc, garlic gas. I jumped on the spot. I’d solved it. A test for arsenic. A way to save lives. A way to find the murderer, if I used it right.

I hugged Fitzroy again. I could do this. I was almost there.

I went to Holt’s office first thing the following morning, carrying spirit of niter and zinc. When I told him I’d found a way to test for arsenic, he stared at me.

“Are you sure?”

I nodded. “Watch.” And I demonstrated the test, talking him through the theory, as far as I understood it.

“Spirit of niter is dangerous, of course, so we’ll have to be careful how it’s used. But the materials are common enough, so the test shouldn’t be too expensive. And if we train the current tasters to use the acid safely, we could pay them for that. I mean, we’ll still need tasters for a while, because this is just one poison, but—it’s a start, isn’t it? Even having a reliable test will discourage people from trying it.”

“Yes,” Holt said. “Yes, it will.” If he wasn’t so dignified, I might have described his expression as a grin. “This is most impressive, Your Majesty. Most impressive. We are lucky to have you, truly we are.”

“It was simply science.”

“But you made the effort to do it. The Forgotten chose well in you, Your Majesty. Once we get through all this, you will be magnificent.”

“I—thank you.” I picked at the skin around my fingernail. He’d meant to praise me, but his words were unsettling, somehow. They reminded me of that woman I’d encountered in the streets. Mary. “About what happened yesterday—that woman who asked for my blessing. I don’t understand why she thought that would help.”

Holt templed his fingertips together. “I’ve told you, Your Majesty, that I believe you were chosen by the Forgotten. It is no surprise that others have reached the same conclusion. Or that they would think you have divine powers of your own. The past weeks have been unusual for the kingdom, to say the least. It is not surprising that people are looking for their own explanations.”