“The procession was this morning,” Winter snorted. “Pathetic and sad, but Xyrath looked glorious. He enjoyed the cheers, right enough.”
“He always did,” Orval agreed. “It came through here?”
“This part of town? No. They wound straight from the main gates to the castle. They’re up there now, probably sorting through the spoils.” Winter looked grim. “There’s one more thing,” She glanced at Amari, then put her hand on Orval’s shoulder. “There’s word from the Palace.” She paused and swallowed hard. “Queen Mother Tithanna was found dead in her chambers, a dagger buried deep in her heart, they say by her own hand.”
Chapter Eight
Satia was still cold from the procession when the palace staff knelt at her feet, their blue and white dresses puffed out around them on the floor.
She refrained from showing her irritation at their insubordination. One glance at their reddened cheeks and eyes swollen from crying, and she resigned herself to a show of patience. But the least they could have done was to have mulled wine ready for her.
“We have all suffered a loss,” she said softly. “I share your grief at the loss of the Queen Mother Tithanna. But we must take care not to disappoint the King on his first night in residence.” Satia paused. “I would not wish to see him angered with you.”
“No, Your Majesty,” the Royal Housekeeper said without lifting her gaze from the floor.
“Best to bury ourselves in our tasks and leave our mourning for later, outside the presence of the King.” Satia looked around. The Queen’s Suite was as she expected it to be, cavernous rooms, every inch covered by the blue and white of the Airions. Stuffy and cold, with the stale scent of dried lavender and no fire in the hearth.
Her Bondmaidens surveyed the room, checking behind curtains and in cupboards. Mira sniffed. “Filthy,” she said disparagingly.
“Apologies, your majesty.” The Royal Housekeeper still had her eyes down and was sniffing back tears. “We are somewhat disarrayed. The King and Queen have not been in residence for some time, you see.”
“The King and Queen are now in residence,” Avice said sharply.
The woman’s face went pale. “The Queen Mother’s chambers would be warmer, although they have not yet been cleaned. We were not allowed to—”
“Understandable,” Satia said, although it was not. But allowances needed to be made. Satia reached down and urged the Housekeeper to her feet. “We must see to the comfort of the King.” Satia gave her an encouraging smile. “Rosemary, wasn’t it?”
“Rosalind, Your Majesty.” An older woman, with a worn face and graying hair. Her wrinkles were deep with exhaustion and grief.
“I know this is a trying time,” Satia murmured as she gestured for the rest of the staff to rise to their feet. “But let us be about it. First things first, we need to remove all the airion tapestries.”
Rosalind paused. “Majesty, it will be terrible drafty without—”
“Take them down,” Satia firmed her voice. “We would not wish to anger the King.”
“The oldest ones are fragile and require careful—”
“They must all be removed before the feast tonight,” Satia insisted, more sharply this time, allowing her irritation to show, just a bit.
“Yes, of course, Your Majesty.”
“To work, then.” Satia dismissed them all. “Quickly now. I know you have suffered a great loss and are pained and hurt. But come, mop your faces and turn grief to action. There is much to be done to see to His Majesty’s comfort. The King is currently inspecting the guards and talking to his Council, but he will want to refresh himself soon enough.”
The staff fled, hopefully to get to work without too much delay.
“Rosalind,” Satia stopped the woman at the door. “Please tell the Royal Steward to attend me here as soon as possible.”
“And a hearth boy, to see to the fire,” Avice added.
“I will see it done, your majesty.” Rosalind bowed and left, shutting the door behind her.
Satia allowed herself to collapse into the padded chair by the cold hearth as a sudden wave of exhaustion swept over her. Her gorge rose and she pressed her hand to her stomach. It was far too soon to declare the pregnancy. She’d need to wait a few weeks before making her symptoms known. “That bitch Tithanna must have mellowed in her old age, if they are all heartbroken over her death.” Satia shook her head. Xyrath shouldn’t have acted so impulsively. But what was done was done.
“Majesty, are you well?” Mira knelt at her side. “The procession took forever and I fear you are chilled.”
“It was needful for the people to see us, and for Xyrath to hear their cheers.” Satia rubbed her arms. “We can sort out the staff later. We can weed out the disloyal slowly. No need to seem the butchers.” She shifted in her chair, trying to ease her discomfort.
A cheer went up outside. Avice crossed over to the windows. “The King is in the courtyard, speaking to the guards.”
