Queen Penelope scowls. “And what is the contrast, Mr. Blackwell?”
“Prince Leland and a team of inspectors were there within two months of the mines’ transition from its former owner. We’ve had a close partnership for several years now, resulting in the railway line and growth of their kingdom. Meanwhile, I’ve never heard a word from your government, Your Majesty.”
Her scowl deepens as she turns to one of her council members. “Explain why there haven’t been inspectors to see the Blackwell mines.”
The man—a middle-aged fellow with thinning hair and a rounded figure—looks as if he wants to crawl behind the furniture. “I—I’ll look into the situation immediately.”
Queen Penelope raises an eyebrow as the man sinks further into his chair. “Well? What are you waiting for, Lord Tabbish? Go!”
The man nearly leaps from his seat, knocking into the side table and sending a plate of food crashing to the floor.
Gabe steps forward, clearing his throat. “If I may speak, Your Majesty?”
She gives a subtle nod.
“This region isn’t highly populated and has tended to be fiercely independent,” he explains. “It’s one of the richest helachite veins on the continent, and we see the benefits of its wealth throughout the country. But since the mine owners have, up until this point, done satisfactory work, we’ve chosen to let their judgment in how they operate stand.”
I hold back the curse I long to let loose. The blood of his people, of redblood laborers, was spilled every day in those mines for far too long. Too many miners still suffer from the former owner’s so-called satisfactory work. My own sleepless nights, haunted by the poisoning my body endured, still plague me. The sweat and convulsions that seize me are things these bluebloods must have forgotten over the generations, though I don’t doubt their ancestors—those who grappled for power and tore this continent apart for their greed—suffered just as I do.
But I don’t say anything. I keep my rage contained. My former friend’s privileged life of comfort and ignorance should be held against him, but not here, not now.
“Tell me, Prince Gabriel,” Queen Kalise says, a cutting edge to her voice. “Is it Naseria’s habit to accept the word of a business owner over ensuring nothing untoward is happening to your citizens?”
“Well, Queen Kalise, we typically trust business owners to manage the best interests of their workers. We’ve had very few complaints using this system of trust with the mine owners. Should we be concerned about how Mr. Blackwell is operating hismines?”
She snorts and rises, her tall, willowy frame towering over Gabe as he remains seated. “I take it you’ve never been inside a helachite mine. We keep ours highly regulated, as Mr. Blackwell knows. But that’s a story only he can tell.”
Gabe looks at her in disbelief, then turns to his mother. “Do you know what she’s talking about?”
King Hugo speaks up, and from Gabe’s expression, it’s clear that’s a rare occurrence. “We’ve had an excellent relationship with the former mine owner, Mr. Wells. It’s unfortunate he had to sell, but we look forward to deepening our commitment to our citizens working in the helachite mines, as well as to the future railway workers. The discovery of helachite is still recent, and the advances that you, Mr. Blackwell, and others have made in its uses are revolutionary. I think we, as a country—and as people who share Inver—should keep our focus on the progress this remarkable mineral has brought us, and on its benefits.”
Rage floods my veins, and it’s all I can do not to lash out. “King Hugo, if I may be so bold, the mines were in deplorable condition when I purchased them. A rotten blight had spread so deep we needed to decommission several shafts due to their deterioration. I’ve personally seen to the medical expenses of the former miners suffering from helachite poisoning and conducted an investigation into what went wrong in northern Naseria. I brought the report, if you’re interested in reviewing it. Progress or not, I will not put my business’s profits over the well-being of its workers—and I refuse to work in a country that doesn’t value the lives of its own citizens. Even the mines I acquired in Wylan, while not up to Icelantican standards, were better maintained and more regulated than those in Naseria.”
“A rotten blight? Helachite poisoning?” Gabe frowns, lifting a hand. “Your Majesty, does Princess Genevieve know any of this? I think we should wait for her before continuing these discussions.”
“Princess Genevieve has more pressing matters,” Queen Penelope says, her gaze locking on me. “I do not want her or Prince Leland interrupted.”
Queen Kalise looks horrified. “I can’t be a part of this. And Mr. Blackwell, I suggest you wait for Prince Leland before proceeding. My brother would never want to be excluded from these discussions. May I have that copy of your report?”
“Of course, Your Majesty.” I pull a copy, a thick bundle of typeset pages, from my briefcase, knowing she’ll at least be interested in reading it. I could have given her a copy when the marriage discussions began, but Naseria needs Leland more than she does. “I agree. Knowing Prince Leland, and knowing he’ll be consort before the railway line is complete, he’ll want to understand how the Naserian government has treated its helachite miners.”
She stands, taking the report, and I follow, collecting my briefcase. I give Queen Penelope and the others a curt nod before trailing Queen Kalise to the door. A footman opens it for us, and we step into the hallway. Before it even closes behind us, she turns on me, icy rage in her eyes, the chill of her gift radiating across my skin.
“How dare you not share this information with us before Leland committed himself to this marriage! The contracts are already written. We need this alliance if we’re to create a united front against Wylan. You, of all people, know what they harbor within their borders.”
Gooseflesh rises on my arms, and I don’t know whether it’s from Queen Kalise’s frosty gift or from memories of the beasts—twisted and tortured by helachite—that still haunt me. An army of creatures so abominable I know exactly what she fears.
“Mr. Blackwell!” Gabriel calls after us, and I turn to face the man I once knew so well.
Queen Kalise looks positively murderous as she spins on her heel, refusing to acknowledge the prince.
“Mr. Blackwell, you mentioned a rotten blight in the mines. Can we speak privately?” he asks, sweeping his flame-red hair from his eyes, concern etched across his face.
I give a quick nod. I don’t even know why I do it, but I follow him without hesitation.
11
Genevieve
