Page 8 of Blood of the Fairest

I don't really know what a chamberlain is, but I recall what the Three Stooges said about Schultz. He also clearly wants me dead.

That says everything I need to know about Queen Rhinestone's ability to read people. If she sacked nice, honest Merrick for that guy with no warning, I doubt she has a lot of true allies in her corner.

Meaning I don't have a lot of allies.

"That's awful. You were probably still in mourning for your friend, huh? Sorry for being such a bitch," I sigh, glancing down the street when the tolling bell picks up again.

Merrick coughs like he's trying to hide a stronger reaction. He glances around as if he's making sure no one else will see me in this state.

"You are speaking rather bluntly, Your Majesty. If I may ask, do you at least recall why you’re in this state?”

Very quickly, while the heavy bell continues to ring out, I tell Merrick that I woke up to three men trying to kill me in a cemetery, escaped, and wandered here. I leave out what my blood did to them.

I also don't mention my hellish drinking binge, since I've decided to pretend that shit never happened.

"...and now, I'm looking for a witch," I finish.

His head rears back hard. "A witch? By the great goddess, whatever for?"

"I need magical help to get my memories back," I lie.

I mean, it's true that I would love to remember the last thing I was doing before I popped up here.

But mostly, I just want to go back to my world. Back to my small but extremely secure, cozy apartment in St. John's, Newfoundland, where I've finally managed to disappear into a private life with a new identity I'm very comfortable with.

I've sequestered myself there for years, living vicariously through books, movies, TV shows, and so on. I even finally have a few actual friends who don't ask any prying questions about my past.

That privacy and the ability to simply exist, peacefully and quietly, are everything to me.

Merrick is puzzled. When the thirteenth toll sounds before an abrupt silence yet again, he seems sad as he straightens his tunic.

"May I speak freely, Your Majesty?"

"Always and forever—and also, please don't call me that. Could you call me Verena instead? Or Vera," I add. "I used to hate my name growing up, but at least it's way better than Rhinestone.”

"Do you mean Reinhilde?"

"Damn, it's even worse than I remember. Call me literally anything else. Call me Ishmael."

"Ishmael?"

"Never mind, it's from a Melville book," I wave that off. "I just mean call me whatever."

"Verena, then. While recovering your memories is important, your immediate safety is far more imperative. Your Majesty is never seen without your veil, except by your Favored and the members of the Privy Council—those are Isenmere's most powerful nobles," Merrick explains patiently.

"So, most people here have no idea what their queen looks like? That seems stupid."

"On the contrary, it serves many functions. Especially for safety. For example, if someone recognized you as the queen, wandering about without protection…" Merrick trails off with an ominous headshake, his gaze earnest. "It is unwise for you to be outside the castle right now, with so many gathered in the town square."

I glance down the street again. "What's happening in the town square? Are these bells to announce that someone died or something?"

The deep, resonant, spaced-out ringing begins yet again.

Merrick grimaces. "Those are death knells. They summon all of Isenhold to bear witness that the queen has sent her royal executioner, whose axe falls at each of the thirteenth tolls."

I stare at him as that sinks in. The deep ringing in the air now raises goosebumps on my arms.

"You're saying this is the sound of someone about to die? Someone the queen sentenced to death?"