BRAITH
“Would you care for more tea, Your Majesty?”
Queen Braith pulled her gaze away from the window. “No, thank you, Cameria.”
Braith’s trusted maid poured herself some instead. “Is your breakfast satisfactory, my lady?”
“Yes, of course. Thank you, Cameria.”
Cameria sipped her tea—slowly, like she was swallowing her thoughts down with it.
Braith raised an eyebrow. “Is something bothering you, my friend?”
“No, my lady.” Cameria replaced her teacup in its saucer. “I wondered if something was bothering you.”
“Oh?” A flicker of a smile played at the corner of Braith’s mouth. “And why would you suppose that?”
“It is your third morning in a row taking breakfast in your private chambers. I believe you would dine only with me for all your meals if I’d allow it.” Cameria hastily added, “Forgive me, Your Majesty. No impertinence intended.”
“You know I prefer it when you speak freely with me. You are perhaps the only one who will these days.”
“That is not true, Majesty. You have many friends—many supporters and excellent advisors.”
“You’re right. I’m sulking.”
Cameria’s dark eyes searched Braith. “Please, tell me what troubles you.”
Braith inhaled slowly, then released her breath in a long, deep sigh. “I have held this title scarcely a moon, and already I grow weary. Four short weeks of this, and I feel ready to shut myself in my room forever. I hoped being queen would be easier than being princess in some ways. As princess, I had always to tiptoe around my—” Braith’s words died on her lips. It was still too difficult to give voice to the awful truth.
“Around your father,” Cameria finished gently.
“Yes.”
“Have you visited him lately, Majesty? I know it vexes you to do so, but . . .” Cameria shook her head. “I know not why I continue to suggest it.”
Braith looked away. “I saw him two days past. He was unchanged. The only word he says to me is traitor.”
“I am sorry, my lady.”
Braith shrugged. “My troubles with my father must be left in the past. At present, the peasant riots throughout the empire are more pressing.”
“Indeed.”
“And perhaps there is no hope there, either. Perhaps they will never accept me on the throne of Tir. I am my father’s daughter, after all.”
“In name, not practice.” Cameria paused. “My lady, would you forgive a very forward suggestion from me?”
“Really, Cameria.” Her faithful Meridioni maid never would dispense with formality, it seemed.
“Majesty, I believe it’s time you hold your first official council meeting. You have appointed your councilors at last. It’s been nearly a moon since your father fell. It is time. Perhaps this return to the normal order would ease the peasants’ ire and make them feel as though Tir is once again under firm control.”
“I’m not sure the rioters will feel fully settled until they see my head on a pike alongside my father’s. But I believe you are right. It is time I start acting like a queen, even if I don’t much feel like one.”
A small smile broke across Cameria’s face. “And perhaps make it to the royal table for breakfast tomorrow morning?”
“Yes.” Braith laughed. “I suppose I can manage it.”
A knock sounded at the outer chamber door.
Cameria rose. “I sent the other servants down to dine. I’ll answer it.”
Braith tidied her place setting, then rose. She brushed her hip-length hair from her shoulders and sighed. She would have to take Cameria’s advice about hiring new beauticians soon, since Trini and her assistants, along with half the servants, had fled the palace when Gareth was deposed.
“My lord!” Cameria’s voice, surprise evident, floated back to Braith.
Braith recognized the man’s soft, raspy tone.
“Forgive me.” His speech was getting easier and freer with each day that passed, but a few weeks couldn’t undo thirteen years spent hidden in secret passageways within the palace walls. Yestin Bo-Arthio, former First General of Tir.
“My lord, what are you doing here?” Cameria’s voice had risen to a scandalized pitch. “Her Majesty is not yet dressed!”
“Forgive me. This could not wait.”
“My lord?”
“We received news. Royal table.” He cleared his throat. “At breakfast.”
Braith hurried into the outer chamber. “News? What news, Sir Yestin?”
At the sight of Braith, Yestin turned away. “Forgive me, Your Majesty.”
Braith glanced down at her nightclothes and dressing gown. “Please don’t trouble yourself over my state of dress if there is urgent news, Sir Yestin. I should have been dressed hours ago.”
“Yes, Majesty.” He turned back to Braith, and his eyes brimmed with sympathy. “Majesty. I’m sorry to be the one.”
“The one?”
“To deliver such news.”
Braith gripped the back of a chair and braced herself. “Please do so quickly.”
Yestin drew a full breath. He seemed also to be bracing himself. “Your father.”
“Yes?”
“He was found dead in his cell this morning.”
Braith’s knees buckled beneath her.
The others rushed to the queen’s side. “Your Majesty!” Cameria cried.
Yestin looped his arm around Braith’s waist and held her as she swayed on her feet. “Shall I take you to your room?”
“No.” Braith swallowed hard. “I’ll just . . . sit here.”
Yestin eased her into the chair, then crouched before her and took her hand. “My deepest sympathies, Majesty.”
“Did he . . . I mean, how did . . .” Her words faltered.
“I don’t know, Majesty. The night guard swears he did not sleep. No disturbances, except the usual muttering. The morning guard found him.”
“Was he . . . was he murdered?”
“There’s no way to say yet, Majesty.”
Braith drew a deep breath and steadied her voice. “Cameria, please order the finest colormasters you can find to examine the cell.”
Yestin’s face registered surprise. “As in the days of Caradoc?”
“Yes. It is time to reinstate the weavers to their former positions,” Braith said firmly. “If any remain. My father’s regime sent most of them into hiding, but I believe he kept a few weavers in his employ. See if you can find them or any others who might still be around, and have them do this task. At least two of them, Cameria. Four or five, if you can manage it.”
Braith turned to Yestin. “Sir, I have a favor to ask of you.”
“Anything, Majesty.”
“The young captain who requested a ship from my naval fleet.”
“Mor Bo-Lidere.”
“Yes. He has quite a quest marked out, I understand.”
“Yes. The four corners of the world.”
“Accompany him. Bring this news of my father’s death to the outlying areas of the Empire—Haribi, Meridione, Minasimet, and the Spice Islands. Act as my official envoy, and bring a letter marked with my seal informing our neighbors that I now sit on the throne of Tir.”
“Of course, Majesty.”
“And also this—tell them they are once again our neighbors and no longer our subjects. As my first official act as queen, I am reestablishing the sovereignty of these nations.”
Yestin stared. “Majesty, I . . .” His words trailed off, unfinished.
“My lady.” Cameria dropped to her knees before Braith’s chair. “Do you mean this? Freedom for my people and the others enslaved under Gareth?”
“I have never meant anything more in my life.”
Cameria’s response was swallowed in a teary sob.
Braith squeezed her friend’s hand. “This isn’t how I wanted to tell you. I wanted a joyous celebration and a grand announcement. But this will have to do.”
Cameria paused, and a shadow crossed her face. She glanced at the window. The sound of peasants shouting only just carried into the room from the palace gates.
“Ah, yes,” Braith said. “The peasants.”
“The riots will double,” Cameria said. “Triple, perhaps, if you give back all the land your father conquered.”
“Yes, I expect they will.”
Yestin rose and collected himself. “I’ll leave you now. I must prepare.” He bowed. “Majesty. Lady Cameria.”
Cameria saw him to the door. Braith stared at the wall until the sound of the heavy latch dropping back into place caused her to jump.
Cameria hurried over to her. “Majesty, please, let me help you. Do you wish to lie down? More tea, perhaps?”
“My mother used to believe tea could solve everything.” Braith’s tone was bitter. “I wonder where she is now. If she lives, she will hear of her husband’s death with the rest of Tir, I suppose.”
“One never knows, Majesty,” Cameria replied. “Perhaps she cannot return to the palace. We do not have to assume the worst of Lady Frenhin.”
“We knew her well, so we might always assume the worst.” Braith sighed. “Forgive me. That was unkind. I’m . . . upset.”
“Understandably.” Cameria helped Braith to her feet. “Do you require some water? Something to eat?”
“No. I shall ready myself for the oncoming storm.” Braith smiled wryly. “Or at least for council. Please send messengers with the news that we shall hold an evening council. Today. It’s unorthodox, to be sure, but what isn’t these days?”
“Very well, Majesty. I’ll prepare your gown, if you wish.”
“Thank you, Cameria.”
With Cameria’s worried gaze still fixed on her, Braith retreated to her private bedroom. She closed the door behind herself and leaned against it, staring up at the ceiling beams.
And then Braith wept.