He spoke of her possible affair with the high advisor, the night to the king's day. It was comical, really, that she might believe she'd cheated when, all that time, she'd been with the king.
Briscalar tipped his head. “Wise idea, my king. I suggest we leave a framework for doubt that people will fill in on their own.”
“It has a chance of success,” I said. “Especially if we’re subtle about it. I’m not concerned about any possible risk. I’ll do what I must to preserve this court.”
“I approve of this plan.” Merrick smiled grimly, and in the gesture, I again saw hints of Lorant. “When can we get started?”
“Immediately, my king. My queen.” Briscalar grinned, but his shrewd eyes gleaming like steel. “This will be delightful.”
31
Reyla
Lord Briscalar and Merrick left as my ladies-in-waiting returned with Farris. Faelith beamed and called my nyxin a fine fellow, Moira chattering about how warm the sunshine felt despite the cool breeze, and Calista scowled and muttered something about hating the outside.
I’d forgotten to ask Lord Briscalar about assigning someone new to my staff, though I suppose I should bring it up to Calista myself. She obviously wasn’t happy, and she might welcome the chance to step aside and let someone else take her place.
With that in mind, I asked Moira and Faelith to take the dishes to the kitchen, which left me alone with Calista.
“You’re dressed already, my queen,” she said in a voice that held a bit too much simpering. “Did you bathe?”
“I washed.” I didn’t need to soak in a tub three times a day. “I’mgoing to the throne room to pass judgment with the king.” I stooped to pat Farris. The nyxin made a pleased sound, thumping his tail on the rug before curling up in one of his favorite spots by the unlit hearth.
Calista frowned, her lips pressed thin as she adjusted the fall of her gown. “You plan to go to the throne room dressed like that, my queen?” Her gaze raked down my front.
“Is there a problem?” I glanced down at the pretty green gown Merrick had helped me don. His kisses… Remembering almost made me want to lounge on the bed all day, dreaming about my husband, something I could never do. But the dress was perfectly fine for walking the palace halls and sitting on the throne.
“Not at all,” she said, though her tone held an edge sharp enough to draw blood.
She wasn’t outright insulting me, not verbally, at least, but the look in her eyes still made resentment stab deep.
“You’re representing the crown,” she said. “Perhaps something more formal would be fitting. A gown with more adornments, perhaps? Jewel-toned sikeen does wonders for your complexion.”
Jeez, now she was worried about my complexion? The time I started stressing about my skin was the day I started more weapons training. I would never be fluffy or prissy, and I hoped she realized that soon.
I bit back a sigh, curling my fingers into my palms. She hadn’t said anything disrespectful, but there was something in the way her eyes lingered on my bare feet and the faint twist of her mouth that told me plain enough what she thought of me.
“I could wear leathers,” I said, though mostly to irk her.
There was no disguising the horror on her face. “Oh, please no, my queen. Leathers would be completely inappropriate.”
Probably. Or maybe not. The court was already getting used to their unconventional queen. Why not go all-in and wear what Ipleased? A tunic and pants would be much more comfortable, though. I didn’t enjoy having my breasts squished and thrust upward by these gowns, let alone all that fabric around my legs when I needed to run.
“Your dress will be alright,” she said with a wince. “I just…”
“What?”
“If I may be blunt?” At my nod, she continued, though she paused a moment before speaking. “You not only represent the crown, but you also representmewhen you leave this room. That gown is lovely but it’s nowhere near formal enough for pageantry like this.”
“I’ll sit on the throne. Pass a few judgments. Almost everyone who comes to us for aid is dressed simpler than me.”
Her hands formed fists at her sides. “You’re the queen!”
“I’m very aware of that,” I said with a bite to my voice. “If you’re unhappy as my lady-in-waiting, Calista.” Though it was a challenge, I kept my voice even. “You’re welcome to step aside and let someone else take your place.”
She paled so quickly I wondered if she might faint. “My queen, I didn’t mean—” Her fingers snapped up to her throat as if she’d swallowed a pebble the wrong way. Her breath hitched, and she gagged, clawing at her neck. Her eyes widened, and she wiggled as if trying to shake something loose.
“Are you alright? Are you choking?” Concerned, I reached for her arm, determined to make her at least sit, but she sucked in a deep breath and let it out with a muted cough.
