A Vow So Bold and Deadly (Cursebreakers, #3)(20)

I sigh and glance at the window. Prince Grey is outside on the fields, Jake and Tycho by his side, overseeing the training of our soldiers. In the beginning, Grey would sit with me while I heard complaints from my subjects, but not everyone speaks the language of Emberfall, and he’s still learning Syssalah. It’s not a failing, but I’ve heard whispers about arrogance and ignorance, and I’m not sure which is worse. My people already question whether I am ruthless enough to rule following my mother’s death.

All of this is so much more complicated than I ever imagined.

At my side, Nolla Verin clears her throat emphatically.

I jerk my eyes away from the window and glance at Clanna Sun. “Whose land is it truly?”

“They both bear deeds showing ownership of the acreage, Your Majesty.”

Of course they do. I hold back another sigh.

“Forged, I’m sure,” sniffs Kallara.

“Enough.” They would never bicker like this in front of my mother. I glance across the room where the scribes take down every word we say. “Scribes,” I say. “Review the deeds for accuracy. Verify my mother’s seal.” I look at Kallara and Bayard. “We will meet again in a week’s time—”

“A week!” says Kallara. “Preposterous.”

“Her hands,” whispers Nolla Verin. “Take them off, sister.”

Ellia Maya steps forward. She has long dark hair that she keeps bound up in braids, and she carries herself like a soldier. She was an officer in the army before proving herself during the last battle in Emberfall, after which my mother granted her a position as an advisor. “A minor punishment would make others hesitate to contradict you.”

“Yes!” Nolla Verin smiles sweetly. “Perhaps just one hand, then?”

She sounds like she’s teasing, but I can hear an undercurrent of frustration. She would have cut their hands off already.

In all truth, Nolla Verin wouldn’t be allowing subjects to air their grievances at all.

A steward steps forward to take the deeds from the farmers. Bayard passes his over without hesitation, and he offers me a bow. “I appreciate your wisdom, Your Majesty.”

Kallara tightens her grip on the paper instead. “Your mother would never have questioned me.”

My mother would never have tolerated her. I actually doubt either of these people would have had the courage to bring this complaint to the Crystal Palace at all. Both Nolla Verin and Clanna Sun have mentioned that the number of people requesting mediation has increased tenfold.

In a way, it’s what I wanted. Less violence, less blood. Less death. Less fear.

In a way, it’s not.

“Release the deed,” I say to her tightly.

Kallara takes a step back. “This is ludicrous.” She rolls the paper into a tube. “Fine. Side with a man, then. I shouldn’t be surprised.” She spits at Bayard. “Fell siralla.”

“I did not side with a man,” I say. “I asked you to release your deed so I could fairly—”

She spits at me, then turns her back, striding for the door.

Beside me, Nolla Verin, Ellia Maya, and Clanna Sun all suck in a breath. The other subjects waiting their turn uncomfortably exchange glances.

My mother would have had Kallara executed right here. Or maybe not an execution at first. She would have had the guards disable her in some painful manner, then would have left the body bleeding on the stone floor, a warning to any others who would dare such insolence.

I can’t do that. I can’t.

Nolla Verin glances at me, and when I say nothing, she stands. “Guards!” she snaps. “Stop her.”

I whip my head around to glare at my sister. She shouldn’t be issuing orders for me. Two guards have peeled away from the wall anyway, and they’ve taken hold of Kallara by the arms. She’s spitting profanity at me now. Bayard is staring wide-eyed.

“Don’t look at me like that,” whispers Nolla Verin. “You must take action. You know you must.”

I look back at the guards. “Take the deed. We will determine the truth of whose land it is.”

“And cut out her tongue,” says Nolla Verin. “For spitting at the queen.”

“Wait. What? No!” I say, but the guard has already pulled a blade, and my words are lost in the sound of Kallara’s sudden screams of protest. Blood is spilling from the woman’s mouth down the front of her dress. Her screams devolve into keening, a garbled, wet sound. Her knees give way, but the guards keep her upright.

I’m frozen in place, my own breathing very shallow. At the base of the dais, Bayard has gone pale. I see several of the others shift and glance at the door, as if their complaints should possibly wait for another day.

I’m no stranger to this kind of violence, but it’s still upsetting. I don’t want it in my throne room. I don’t want it done on my sister’s order.

You must take action. You know you must.

I wish I’d had another minute. Another second.

But Kallara was leaving. She’d spit at me. She’d sworn at me. She’d refused an order.

And I didn’t do anything. My hands are trembling for so many reasons.

“Take her out of here,” I say, my voice low and tight, and the guards begin to drag her. I glance down at Bayard. “The lands are yours unless the deeds prove otherwise. Return in a week’s time for my judgment.”