“Your Majesty?” the steward said.
With a flush, Astrid realized it was not the first time he’d called for her attention. “Yes?”
Varin coughed. “We received a letter of some importance today.” Which was a nice way of him saying,You will actually want to listen to this part.
“From whom?” Astrid asked.
Varin’s eyes darted to the left and right. The room was full of Astrid’s félag—the guards she trusted the most, her inner circle. None of them would spread confidential information that could put Astrid at risk.
Astrid nodded to Varin.
“It’s from King Skarde of Sydlig, Your Majesty,” said Varin.
Astrid leaned forward in her chair, suddenly alert. The king to the south, communicating with her by a letter sent to her steward? “What does it say, Varin?” And why was she not told of this important letter earlier? Was Freya aware?
“King Skarde is sending an ambassador to Vakker Castle,” Varin said, “and a consul to every major city in Torden.”
A ringing sounded in Astrid’s ears. “Did Skarde share his rationale?”
“The letter states he was made aware of our international relations with the Elven Islands. He desires to have a more active role in Torden’s future.”
Astrid slumped in her throne.
This year, she had married off her sister, Ruga, to the elf princess Elketh Ceridwen of Branwen in exchange for the support of their renowned military. But King Skarde…
The last time Astrid had seen Skarde, she’d traveled on horse for a month through the notoriously difficult Sydlig Forest to meet with him to discuss whether he would offer Torden military support. In response, he had constantly changed the subject, laughed in her face. The orc king had a serious set to his brow that made his laughter unnatural in contrast.
Astrid had reached out to Skarde on other occasions—she’d written him pleasant letters to congratulate him on his marriage to his fourth wife, and to commend the fantastic harvest Sydlig had a few years back—but only received responses from his steward. Generic “thank you, we hope you have been well,”messages that did not inquire about whether Astrid and Torden were actually doing well.
For a king, Skarde struck Astrid as apolitical when it came to anything other than himself. And if her assessment of this were true, then it also had to be true Skarde thought something happening in Torden would negatively impact him or his country.
Which begged the question: Did Skarde know something Astrid didn’t about the future of Torden?
“I’ll write the earls to warn them about Sydlig’s incoming consuls,” said Astrid.Thatwould go over well.
Varin’s eyelids drooped and he stifled a yawn.
Astrid felt a pang of remorse. Her sister Ruga had done a lot of the administrative work around here, things no one else thought to do, and everyone was working overtime to fill in the gaps ever since Ruga left.
Astrid began to look back again and stopped herself. Only then did she notice the room was unnaturally quiet. She looked from the guards, who stared at her, to the steward, whose forehead was coated in a sheen of sweat.
“Queen Astrid,” said Hedda at her side. “I believe you would like us to get back to business?” And then, in a lower voice: “I’m on kitchen mop duty today.”
“Stars,” Astrid murmured. “Meeting adjourned.”
As she walked back to her rooms surrounded by guards, she heard Freya fall into step behind her, and finally relaxed her shoulders.
When Astrid’s wrist cramped from writing to the earls, constructing a half-truth about why they needn’t worry, she forced herself to take a break. The words on the paper blurred in her vision. She had an urge to scream. The félag would come running into her rooms, but she could do it just once. Get it out of her system.
“Shall I take these to the courier when you’re finished, My Queen?” Freya asked.
Sometimes it seemed as though Freya could disappear and reappear like a breeze, tumbling in and then back out of Astrid’s presence. Astrid had a strong preference forin.
“Yes, that would be wonderful, Freya. Thank you.”
Though there were two chairs in Astrid’s sparsely furnished antechamber, Freya always opted for standing.
Astrid stared into the low embers of the fire. Freya took her duties seriously, but Astrid truly missed the ease with which she had been able to talk to her sister.
