Four Dead Queens(87)

Arebella swallowed a huff. He was going to blame Mrs. Delore for not informing her and pretend Marguerite had wanted her to inherit the throne? She wasn’t sure if the deception made her like Jenri more or less. Would it be in her best interests to distrust him? Or rely on him? She’d have to mull it over tonight while everyone else slept. Her first night in the palace, how thrilling!

Focus, she admonished herself.

“That’s surprising news,” Arebella said after a moment of planned reflection. “I had no idea I came from a royal line. How exciting! Oh!” She scrunched her dark brows into a frown. “But with you here . . . Doesn’t that mean . . . that she—” Her voice shook with excitement, although it could have easily been misread as fear. “You said ‘was.’”

“Yes. I’m afraid Queen Marguerite has passed,” he said, lowering his head. “I came as soon as I could.”

She’d imagined those words countless times. She thought she might still be imagining them, but he hadn’t worded it exactly right. Not how she wanted him to. She’d thought there would be more drama, more flair. More crying. And more people. But it was only this one advisor. How disappointing.

He awaited her response.

She dug her painted fingernails into her palms to prevent herself from drowning in thoughts. A technique Mackiel had taught her. Pain is reality, he liked to say.

“That’s dreadful,” she said finally. She went with dreadful over horrible, as horrible sounded too distant and dreadful was close to dead—the poetry pleased her.

“I’m sorry to inform you of this,” he said, his face drawn with emotion and fatigue. “Usually the queens are raised with the knowledge of their ancestry and are prepared for how difficult this day will be.”

A war went on inside her. Should she cry? Was that too much? She’d never met the woman, and supposedly had only now found out she was related to her. What was the appropriate reaction to someone passing if you were related but had never met? Someone you would only ever meet face-to-face when they were already dead?

Still, the woman had brought her into this world, which deserved some acknowledgment. She sniffled, then asked, “What happened?”

Yes, that was a good one. Much better than Oh, queens above! Not my poor mother! which had been her preference over the last few months. Sometimes simplicity was best.

“She was poisoned,” Jenri replied, his lip quivering. “The doctors did their best to save her, but they were too late. I’m very sorry, my lady.” How interesting. She hadn’t known how the queens would be murdered, only that they would be taken care of and that her mother’s death would be slow enough to allow for her admission. It was safer not to know. That way Arebella’s responses would be more genuine.

Jenri stepped forward and placed a hand on her arm, wrinkles gathering around his eyes as he took her in. He was emotional. Warm. Soft.

Easy.

“I’m sure you did all you could,” she whispered, deciding to mimic his softness in the hope that it would connect them. Find something they want, Mackiel would say, then give it to them, and they’ll be yours for the taking.

“I’m afraid that’s not all,” he said.

“No?” She could hardly contain her excitement. He was about to name her queen of all of Quadara.

“The other queens are also dead.” He cleared his throat. “Murdered.”

Arebella shifted her shoulders up and down to appear as though she was breathing raggedly. “How is that possible?”

“We don’t know all the facts yet, but you can be assured that you will be safe with me.”

Arebella nearly laughed. Of course she would be safe. This was all her doing.

Her mother couldn’t control her life from behind the scenes now. Arebella would finally get everything she ever wanted, and was owed. And Quadara would gain its best queen.

“Can I still see my mother?” she asked. “Just once?” It seemed like the right thing to ask, to allow Arebella to say good-bye. Such a strange Quadarian tradition—the day you were to meet your birth mother was the day you would say your farewells. Perhaps it was a Queenly Law she could change? She didn’t want her own child to meet her on her deathbed.

Will I have children? Arebella wondered. Do I want children? She supposed she could change that law too, if she wished. Once she was queen.

“Yes, my lady,” Jenri said, breaking her from her tangled thoughts. “She is presentable.”

Arebella pursed her lips at the description of her mother’s corpse as presentable. From what she knew of death, it was ugly, and ladies like herself should turn their faces away. Not that she planned to, but it was always good to know what ladies like herself should do.

“I will require you to come to the palace at once,” he continued. “We can send for your belongings once you’ve arrived.”

“I’m going to live in the palace?” Her voice was buoyant.

“You will be Toria’s next queen.” He gave her a small smile. “I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful queen, and I’ll be by your side every step of the way, as I promised your mother.” His voice lowered. “As I was for your mother.”

Hopefully not every step, she thought.

“Thank you.” She looked up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed happy tears. Let him think they’re from grief. “Take me there now. I’m ready.”