There were now at least thirty of the queen’s guards in all, although only one of them was armed with a combat rifle like those carried by the soldiers and guards who were stationed throughout the Capitol. Even the resistance fighters favored guns over blades. Yet here, in the queen’s palace, I saw mostly hand-to-hand weapons, like knives, daggers, bows, and double-edged broadswords; it was an antiquated way to fight.
I glanced around at all four of the men who’d come to escort me. They were covered in blood—although mostly it wasn’t their own. All were being held at knifepoint.
The steel edge pressed deeper into my flesh. “Eyes ahead,” the commander hissed.
I wanted to tell him to go to hell, but mine wasn’t the only neck on the line.
My heart leaped into my throat as we approached the huge gilded doors in a hallway that was wider than any room I’d ever been in, and taller than my entire home.
I was finally going to meet the queen.
The doors were opened by footmen who bent low at the waist as we passed. And despite the blood rushing noisily through my ears, my eyes swept the enormous room, taking in the high ceilings, the rich tapestries, and an ornate fireplace that took up nearly an entire wall. Royalty, it seemed, spared itself no luxury.
Even though summer approached, a fire blazed in a massive hearth that was framed by an enormous carved mantelpiece.
But my heart plummeted once more as my eyes fell upon the throne, and I wondered if this was yet another distraction, a new place to keep us captive. There was no one awaiting us inside.
I couldn’t stop myself from wondering where my parents were at this moment, how close they were to the place in which I now stood. I clung to the hope that their prison was as lavish as mine had been, but I worried that the fate they’d suffered had been less than extravagant.
The thought that they’d been used, pawns in the queen’s game, made my stomach ache and made me all the more apprehensive about meeting her.
But we didn’t have to wait long, and Her Majesty’s arrival came with all the fanfare I would have expected of a queen. However, if I’d expected a regal woman who could storm the room and exert dominance by her very presence, I’d been sorely mistaken. The queen could no more storm the room than she could walk into it of her own accord.
I certainly hadn’t expected to see an old woman being wheeled to her place at the throne.
She looked shriveled and frail, this woman who commanded a queendom, the body she wore betraying her, withering around her.
At her arrival, all the guards restraining us took a step back, yet not one of us moved. I was astonished, then, when everyone in the room, including Xander—leader of the revolutionaries, grandson to the queen—and Max bowed down in her presence, despite the fact that she’d just taken them both as prisoners. I followed suit, and remained there until I was told otherwise.
Xander had warned me not to be fooled by her outward appearance, but it was difficult not to overlook her weakness. The queen was an elderly woman who could no longer carry her own weight from one place to another. It was nearly impossible to believe that she was as merciless as I had been led to believe.
Until the sound of her voice cut through the room, and the crystal clarity of it belied her delicate physical state. “Rise,” she commanded, not a quiver to be heard. Her opaque eyes fixed on me as I lifted my head. I counted silently as I drew in air, exhaling to quell my trembling nerves. “Come closer, Charlaina Di Heyse.”
The surname she spoke meant nothing to me, just a name from a history book. It felt strange to hear it leaving her lips and finding its place beside the name my parents had given me.
I stood, my legs quivering beneath me.
I thought Max would remain where he was, rooted to his spot until he was ordered to do otherwise. There were still rules to obey, despite the unusual circumstances surrounding our meeting, and as far as I knew, he was still a prisoner. We all were.
But instead he moved to stand beside me, a prince at home in a castle. He laced his fingers through mine.
I have a purpose, I reminded myself once again. My family is counting on me.
The air around me smelled of a fire’s smoke and a queen’s power as her lips drew back from her teeth in a startling attempt to smile. I couldn’t tell if it was meant to depict good humor or if she was mocking me, and her voice didn’t make my assessment any clearer. “So you are the girl who has turned my country upside down.” Her pale eyes looked dead already but felt as if they were boring right through me. She ignored Max’s presence at my side.
I flinched from her statement. “No, Your Majesty.” I wondered what sort of answer she’d expected. But from the tightening of her lips, I recognized immediately that I had misspoken. “I—I certainly didn’t mean to.”
“Of course you didn’t, my dear. But you have.” Her use of the Royal tongue was deliberate, and I realized that she knew I understood her.
Max squeezed my hand, a gesture of encouragement as he tried to intervene. “You can’t do this,” he stated to his grandmother, his voice low and steady. “You can’t hold her hostage. She’s not property to be bargained with. She can’t be forced to take the throne.”
I waited for the queen to answer him, but instead she stared blankly at my face, memorizing me as if she’d never heard Max speaking at all. I felt myself wanting to recoil from her chalky gaze. “I’ve searched for so long. . . .” Her voice faded, drifting off, before finding its way once more. “You’ll make a good queen. So strong. So lovely.”
“But what if I don’t want to be queen?”
I thought she’d raise her voice, berate me in anger. I didn’t expect her to smile. “It’s not up to you, child. It never has been.”
Xander stepped forward then. He’d torn one of his sleeves from his shirt and tied it around his wounded arm. Blood still soaked through. He moved to stand in front of both me and Max, as if he’d listened to enough.
Hostility split the air as the two of them stared at each other, and I wondered how long it had been since they’d been face-to-face like this. The silence between them was palpable, and in that moment, I felt that Xander was in more danger than the rest of us.
It was the queen who spoke first, her voice low and menacing. “How dare you show your face in my home? What right do you have to stand before me?”
Xander’s voice belied the bitterness that was etched across his scarred face. “Grandmother,” he bowed comically—mockingly. He spoke in Englaise, an obvious jab at his royal heritage. “Always a pleasure.”
“Don’t ‘grandmother’ me, you insolent brat. I’m your queen, and you’ll show me the respect I deserve while you stand within these walls.” Her eyes grew glassy. “There was a time I would have done anything for you,” she said in a tone that neared affection. The way she spoke to him, the way her voice dropped, made me think she’d forgotten that it wasn’t just the two of them, that she wasn’t having a private conversation with her grandson, but rather a public discussion with the man hell-bent on destroying her. “My sweet Alexander, you were the only boy I’ve ever truly cared about.” She closed her eyes, permitting herself a moment with her memories. And again, I saw a weakened woman before me.
Xander grinned. “You won’t be my queen for long. Charlie will never agree to your terms. She won’t accept your Essence.”
She opened her eyes just a sliver, and then she cackled, a sound eerily similar to laughter escaping her thin lips. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?”
At last, a grim smile settled over her face. She spoke not to Xander, or to me, but to the guard at her side. “Bring in the prisoners.”