The Secluded Queen, page 5
The more she thought about the circumstances surrounding Edward’s death, the more suspicious they became. The doctors had mentioned something about organ failure, but Edward had not been a king who would drown his concerns in drink, nor was he someone who partook in strange potions or tonics. He had been extremely healthy, then, out of the blue, he had grown so ill that he couldn’t speak correctly. It had happened overnight. Was it a coincidence? A bad blessing from Nurtia, the goddess of Fate? She consented that he had been growing old, in his fifties, but can vitality be stripped away so easily? Can your health be stolen from you in a single day? After a long consideration, Veronica concluded that while it was possible for a sudden loss of health, he had shown no signs of losing vitality before that fateful night. The High Council believed the doctors—that the King had died of organ failure due to his old age. To Veronica, every clue pointed to murder, and if the High Council had been behind his murder, they would undoubtedly side with the doctor’s diagnosis.
Could Caroline have been the one behind the rumor? How could she have been? The letter had been unopened when she had received it. Someone must have been actively looking for a way to sabotage her rule. This spy could have intercepted the letter and then used some craft unknown to her to read its contents without disturbing the seal.
This was all becoming too much for her. She couldn’t even take the time to mourn Edward without some snake trying to sabotage her. Why can’t I be left alone? Why is someone always trying to spot and exploit my weaknesses? I wish there were a place I could go to be truly alone. A place where no one knew where I was and I could be free from this political nonsense.
She got yanked from her brooding by an unfamiliar voice: “My Queen, your presence is requested by the High Council.” She turned to see a young female soldier, no older than her, saluting dutifully behind her.
“How did you find me so quickly?”
The woman smiled and lowered her arm. “You were easy to spot.”
Veronica looked down at her elaborate black dress. “Oh, of course. Anyone would stand out wearing a dress like this.”
She laughed. ‘It wasn’t the dress. You were the only person in the street looking like you didn’t have anywhere to be.”
Veronica blushed. “Ah.” She looked at the people walking past, all with purpose.
Sir Richard appeared by her side. “My Queen, is there a problem?”
“Apparently, the High Council needs me for my first Emergency Oration.”
He grimaced. “Well, shall we see what the high and mighty High Council want with our fair Queen?”
Veronica wasn’t sure she wanted to be alone with the politicians after the spreading of that dreadful rumor, but she mustered courage and led the way back to the keep. She had an awful sense of direction, and it was embarrassing to have Sir Richard awkwardly help her reorient herself after taking an unneeded detour down a dead-end street. Twice.
Sir Barbarossa let them into the keep, directing their way towards the Great Hall. The Great Hall was the place of meeting for the Crown and the High Council, where they had carried out the business of Anatolia for centuries. The room had tall rectangle double doors made of ancient hardwood, the grain deep and beautiful. The center of the grand doors boasted a hand-carved depiction of the crown emblem, the emblem being split between the double doors, an ancient reminder of the incumbent powers of the Crown. Once they had reached the doors, the young female soldier bowed in parting and left her to carry out her business. An usher, who stood like a statue off to the side of the doors, pushed both doors wide open, bowed, then held out his arm to allow the Queen to enter. All ten of the High Council were present, still at the Castle Myra after the funeral. Frederick gave her a warm smile while old Councilman Lucilla, representing the port city Patara, Veronica’s home city, looked her up and down and scowled. She had harped on Veronica ever since she first came to the Castle, and with the freshest rumor making its rounds, she didn’t look like she would give her any wiggle room.
A well-dressed announcer stood and bellowed, “Queen Veronica of Anatolia, Representing the Late King Edward of Anatolia, is present.”
She took her place at the center of the crescent-shaped table, and Frederick William arose and stood in front of them, directly in the middle of the inward curve of the crescent.
He spoke elegantly, making slow and calculated gestures to the peers who sat before him. “High Councilmen of Anatolia, I have called an Emergency Oration on behalf of our Queen.” He smiled at her, and she nodded at him in thanks, though she still didn’t know the exact reason why she was there.
“As the esteemed members of the High Council know, Phoenicia has been a threat on our northernmost border ever since Alfonso took the throne. They have invaded within the last generation, and many of our people perished, with Tarsus and Turhal suffering greatly under the Phoenician occupation.”
Two of the High Councilmen nodded gravely, High Councilman Joel and High Councilman Phares, representing the Great Cities Tarsus and Turhal.
Frederick continued, “This same Alfonso, on the night of our King Edward’s internment in The Crown Mausoleum, sent Queen Veronica a letter of proposal.” He turned to Veronica. “This rumor has been spreading amongst the people, many of whom express their utmost disdain towards the Crown for considering such a union. The High Council strongly recommends against such a union. How does our Queen respond?”
A fat king in a rival kingdom comes up with an idiotic idea, and now the High Council, a subsidiary to the crown, is now interrogating me, their Queen.
Veronica felt frustrated, annoyed, and embarrassed over the topic. She was embarrassed that her romantic life was now the focus of the kingdom. When she was with Edward, this strange obsession with her romantic interests didn’t exist. Still, now that she was widowed, it would be discussed by everyone everywhere. That marriage proposal cemented the Queen as the prime suspect in Edward’s untimely demise, and every accusation or conspiracy theory that will surely manifest around Edward’s death will undoubtedly feature her as the villain.
I wasn’t the idiot who wrote the letter. Why am I the one on trial? If they are so concerned, they really should reach out to King Alfonso!
She didn’t stand. Veronica didn’t feel the need to stand to answer such an insulting comment. “I respond that the letter was ridiculous and insulting.”
Frederick smiled. “Yes, our Queen, thank you for your reply. Let me reiterate for clarity: how do you intend to respond to the letter from King Alfonso?”
Veronica felt like rolling her eyes. “As Queen, I reject his proposal. I don’t believe Phoenicia and Anatolia would be able to reconcile our differences over a marriage. It is an insult to the Crown and the Citizens of Anatolia for him to have presumed as such.”
Frederick bowed. “Very good, our Queen. Councilman Lucilla, will you please respond in writing to King Alfonso?”
The older woman smirked at Veronica. “Indeed I shall. I am experienced in these matters. Though I need to read and see this letter of proposal for my reply.”
Frederick nodded. “Our Queen, where is this letter now?”
Veronica’s face burned with embarrassment. “I have it here.”
Frederick nodded to the announcer, who retrieved the letter from the Queen and delivered it to Councilman Lucilla, who shot a look of disdain towards the Queen because of the condition of the letter. Her facial expression did not change as she glanced over the letter’s contents. “This proposal is, as the Queen says, deeply insulting to Anatolia. I will draft a reply this evening for review by the High Council tomorrow.”
Frederick nodded. Councilman Joel took advantage of the pause to stand then, straightening a crop of long hair out of his face. Joel spoke with a hardened voice, “What of Tarsus? If Phoenicia would take offense to this reply, the people of Tarsus would suffer in the event of invasion. Tarsus should be fortified immediately to prevent invasion and occupation.”
Councilman Phares pounded the table in front of him. “I second that. Turhal should also be fortified.”
Frederick frowned. “Due to King Edward decreasing tax collection on the businesses of the people, the Crown does not have sufficient funds to fortify both Great Cities. I have recently received reports of Phoenicia entering into a new war, so fortifying both border cities would be superfluous.”
Councilman Joel went to speak but was cut off by Councilman Phares. “It should be Turhal then, as we were the first to be attacked by Phoenicia during the last war.”
Frederick nodded. “All in favor of allocating Crown funds to the fortification of Turhal?” All High Councilmen signed their agreement, except for Joel, who scowled at Phares. Frederick bowed. “The majority vote has been counted, in favor of fortifying Turhal. My business is settled. I would like to relinquish the floor to High Councilman Lucilla.”
Lucilla rose and walked with such grace and ladylike dignity that it made Veronica feel like a grungy woodsman. Her back was straight, her hands clasped in front of her, and her chin was lifted. The robes she wore, feminized by custom alterations, were the perfect length, fit her perfectly, and came within an inch of the floor. She waited for Frederick William to get situated in his seat before addressing Veronica directly.
Her voice was devious and grated on Veronica’s ears as she spoke. “Queen Veronica, we are all grieving the loss of King Edward. Still, I must inform you that it is improper for a Queen to rule alone. It is unnatural.”
Veronica crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat, eyebrows raised. “Councilman Lucilla, you are too bold.”
She shook her head. “I am only upholding the traditions of Anatolia. My Queen, in the entirety of Anatolia’s history, we have never had a Queen remain unmarried for a prolonged period of time. The people expect you to support the King, not rule the kingdom.”
Veronica stood and slammed the table in front of her. “I just lost my husband, and the next day, you confront me about being unmarried? I am married.”
“To a dead man, which means you are a widow. This does not exempt you from the traditions of Anatolia. The High Council has decided to begin announcing your eligibility to the royal families of the region.”
Veronica shook her head. “Can’t I just grieve? What is the urgency?”
Lucilla scowled, “The urgency, my Queen, is upholding tradition. Tradition is what the people know and what the people expect. We must meet the expectations of the people, or we risk losing more trust in the Crown.”
“I will not be forced into marriage. I will have all of my future correspondence destroyed before the High Council knows of any reply to their notices of my eligibility.”
“My Queen, don’t act even more like a fool. The servants of this castle receive the correspondence, and each of them has a home in one of the Great Cities. They have been instructed to deliver all future correspondence to the High Council for review.”
“I am Queen! I forbid you from reading my letters.”
The High Council all laughed. Lucilla locked eyes with the Queen, a foreboding glare. “It is for the good of Anatolia, my Queen. You do wish the best for Anatolia?”
“Of course I do, but this is going too far. I want to have time to grieve.”
“Queen Veronica, it is not proper for a Queen to rule alone. You will have time to grieve while the High Council makes our list of eligible bachelors and widowers. If you do not make this small sacrifice for the good of your people, you will always be remembered as the Queen who thought she could rule. They will not give you any second chances. One mistake during your reign, and you will never be forgiven.” She looked away from the Queen, dismissing any further discussion. “I move to adjourn this Emergency Oration.” Sounds of consent followed, and before Veronica knew it, she was sitting alone, dumbfounded.
Why does Lucilla feel the need to put another woman down? She is condescending and rude. There are so few women in power, and it is hard enough as it is. Do they genuinely think they can marry me to whomever they choose? I am the Queen, and they are mere pencil pushers. Why did I let them treat me that way?
She put her head in her hands and cried. She was sick of the drama at the Castle. She was sick of the rumors and the politicians. She was sick of the fear of being poisoned through her soup or attacked while she was alone by someone who didn’t like her. She felt queasy and bashful because of how she carried herself during that Emergency Oration. She shuddered to think the first Emergency Oration that she took part in as the sole ruler of Anatolia was nothing more than her being weak and the High Council bullying her.
I didn’t even put up a fight! I am embarrassed of myself. The old woman, Councilman Lucilla, may have been right. I may not be fit to lead Anatolia.
Veronica wiped the tears from her eyes and retreated to her bedchamber, holding up a hand to silence Sir Richard as she powered past him and slammed the door behind her.
I’m so embarrassed over how childish I acted with that letter from Alfonso! I should have known that someone would want to see it. Lucilla is probably mocking me right now. Why does that woman hate me so?
It was midday by then, and the bedchamber was a wreck, with pens scattered on the floor, Edward’s clothing crumpled against the wall, and a messy bed after a restless night. Time was starting to blend together for her. She had trouble remembering how long it had been since Edward’s funeral and which afternoon it was: yesterday’s, today’s, or tomorrow’s.
Veronica stooped down, picked up the spilled pens, and, remembering the hand scroll, picked it up and placed it neatly back where Edward had left it. It was a curious thing, this scroll. It looked brand new and never unrolled, except for the wrinkles where it had smacked the wall during her breakdown. It rolled easily, reading right to left. As it moved across the wooden desk, she was surprised to find that it wasn’t a scroll at all—but a map, new and clean from an Anatolian cartographer.
The Castle Myra was painted in detail, boasting its beautiful jade towers and ancient altar to Cybele. Many miles south of the castle was Patara, an essential port for Anatolia and the Great City she had called home throughout her childhood. A winding pathway was painted across the map, leading away from the castle towards the western border, labeled Merchant’s Pass, which cut into and followed the dark green edge of the powerful Forever Green Forest. The haunting forest occupied the southwest side of Anatolia—a forest filled with mysticism, danger, and death.
The map’s depiction of the Forever Green Forest caused memories—some that were long dead and forgotten—to exhume themselves from the depths of her mind. Memories from her youth while living in Patara, and the small forest her father often took Veronica and her mother to vacation in. It was the only time he had acted like a father in her life. Even more powerful, her fondest memories of her mother were created while staying at the humble cabin, running, playing, and laughing amongst the surrounding trees.
The first two visits to the cottage were spent rebuilding, as her father had purchased it for pennies due to its poor condition. He had also insisted on living off the land, and during those beautiful hours spent with her father, she had learned everything he knew about the woods. She cherished those memories and that knowledge of the harsh world, and even as a small girl, she vehemently looked forward to practicing the new skills each year. It had been devastating when her father had ended the family tradition.
Veronica had always wondered why he had insisted on living off the land. It was probably because he was so stingy with money. Every coin he laid his hands on went back into his small trading fleet. Even when Mother needed a new dress, food, or medical care, he denied her and insisted on investing all of our family’s savings into that soul-sucking trading empire. She imagined her stout father, sitting alone in an office, alone in their family home, eating alone, sleeping alone, sailing alone, counting his money alone. Serves him right. He deserves loneliness and misery.
She had always felt happy while at that cabin. I wish I could go back there now. She paused, processing the new notion. Why not go back? There was nothing for her here in this castle but misery, grief, frustration, drama, and fear. The childhood memories surged again, and in her mind’s eye, she could see the birds flying, the blue skies unpolluted by smoke, the tall green grasses, and the quaint cabin in the middle of it all. Her heart longed for the peace she had felt there, the freedom to move about and make her own choices. It was also relatively safe compared to the horrors of the Forever Green Forest.
I do not have time to grieve. I am the Queen of Anatolia. I have to and will escape this dreadful castle as soon as possible, and I will not leave a single trace of me for anyone to follow. The power of the Crown must be protected against the High Council. I don’t dare have them killed, not until I know for sure of their treachery and who is behind the assassination of King Edward.
She rolled up the map with care, taking a moment to enjoy the hope that caressed her heart, alongside the fires of rebellion that bled into her veins.
The High Council wishes to marry me off to one of their puppets? Well, let’s see how far they are willing to go to get their wish. I would rather die than give them the power of the Crown. The vipers may have gotten the best of me this time, but they will never be able to catch me.
Chapter 4
Gem Shavek, Armored Mech Pilot and Mechanic, was lying on her back on the floor of the Eternal Tower as she inspected the Royal Aerial Mech’s landing gear. While this was an Aerial Mech and technically not her specialty, she had been specifically delegated the landing gear maintenance. She usually would argue against this strange assignment, except that it came from her longtime friend and queen, Myra. Gem hated making time to inspect the landing gear; she dreaded the long climb up the stairs of the Eternal Tower, and she was currently buried in work for the Armored Land Mech Division, but she suspected Myra had delegated this task to her so that she could have her friend close by. Gem was intimately versed in the details surrounding King Laexor’s condition and the pain it caused Myra, probably better than Laexor understood it himself. Whenever the King was in one of his spells of madness, Myra would send for her, and they would do what they always did, share dinner and argue about what was to be done with Laexor, and about whatever terrible or grating thing they heard about Cory Rockhart.
