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Rohesia nudged Alice to stand when the doors finally opened. They had come down to the great hall not long after Edwin’s boat had set off, so it had been something of a wait, and the poor child was exhausted, curled up on the floor at Rohesia’s feet, leaning back with her head on her mother’s knee.
As they had waited in this room, reports of the battle had still reached them. Sir Alfred had fought bravely and held off the Gramiren forces longer than anyone had believed possible. But only a few minutes earlier, Presley, Grigory, and Intira had arrived from their perch in Leofe Tower to report that Robert Tynsdale had carried Alfred from the field of battle. Rohesia knew it would not be long until Broderick entered the palace.
She ordered these three wonderful people—sent by her good friend Vita in her time of need—to their rooms. If anyone asked, they were to say they were foreign guests seeking sanctuary in the Bocburg, not contributors to the Sigor war effort.
Once they departed, she had asked everyone else to leave as well, so when the door to the great hall opened, only Rohesia, sitting on the throne of the old Queens of Leornian, with Alice now standing beside her and Helena in her arms, greeted Broderick and his entourage.
“Your majesty,” Broderick boomed, loud and unwelcome as the shot from his catapults. His smile made her feel sick. “Such a pleasure to see you. It has been some time. I do hope you are in good health.”
“I am well in body, thank you very much. Although perhaps a trifle sick in spirit.”
“Yes, it has been a trying day.” He came to a stop a few feet in front of her. After gracing her with another of his broad grins, he bowed. The rest of his retinue stopped a dozen feet behind him in good order. She, of course, recognized many of them—Duke Lukas and Lady Jorunn and many other nobles who should have remained loyal to her son. And Flora Byrne, whose loss of support and friendship still pained Rohesia.
“I see Cousin Alice is here to greet me, as well,” Broderick went on cheerfully. “My, but you have grown.”
Alice hid her face in Rohesia’s shoulder and said nothing.
“And who is this delightful little one you are holding?” he asked as though paying a simple afternoon visit to catch up on the news.
“This is my niece, Helena Hyrne.”
“Ah, yes,” he said, with a frown that, if Rohesia had not known him better, she would have taken for genuine grief. “I have heard about the death of Countess Veronica. I am very sorry for your loss.”
“Yes.”
“I do have a question, however.” Broderick’s demeanor shifted, and the polite expression was washed away. “Where is her father? Should she not be with him? Or him with her, as the case may be.”
“I am afraid he will be unavailable to meet with you.”
“And what about your fine son? Is he likewise unavailable?”
Helena squirmed in her arms, and Rohesia shifted her. Soon she would need to eat, and the wetnurse would have to be called. Rohesia disliked thinking of Helena and Alice as props in a bit of theater she was staging for Broderick, but the fact was, the time had come to start wrapping up her performance.
“King Edwin is also unable to meet you, yes.”
“That is quite disappointing. I had been so looking forward to seeing them both.”
The day had been one of the worst of her life, but Rohesia managed to find pleasure in how upset the loss of Lawrence and Edwin made him.
“You see,” he grinned slyly, “it is customary to accept a surrender either from the commander of an opposing army or from the one who claims the same title and is the cause of the war.”
“Well, neither of them are available. If you wish for a military commander, our troops were led at the last by Sir Alfred Estnor. I heard he was injured, however, and do not know where he has been taken for treatment.”
“So, you haven’t heard.”
Rohesia’s heart was already breaking for Elwyn when she forced herself to seek confirmation from Broderick. “He is dead, then.”
“He fought bravely, but I am afraid so.”
She nodded, for what else could she do? “Then you will have to satisfy yourself with a formal surrender from the Queen Regent and Head of the Privy Council.” She swallowed and looked away from Broderick’s disgusting smile. “Leornian is yours.”
The two dozen or so nobles and soldiers cheered. Well, Flora, at least, had the good manners to not look too happy. Alice started crying again on Rohesia’s shoulder.
“As Leornian is now mine,” Broderick said, growing more gleeful with each word, “I must see to my prisoners. Chief among them, it seems, is you. And I have just the place for you.”
***
THE WETNURSE AND ALICE’S governess had come to take the girls at dawn, so Rohesia suspected something was about to happen on her third morning of captivity. She paced around the room, unable to sit still or think. Perhaps this was how one went mad.
At midmorning, a knock came on her door. Assuming it was merely a formality and not a request for permission to enter, she remained silent. A few seconds later, the door opened, and a jaunty Broderick stepped inside.
“Good morning, your majesty. I hope you are finding the accommodations comfortable.” He walked past her and sat down on a padded bench under one of the narrow windows as though settling into an old favorite spot.
And perhaps it was. Broderick had confined her to the Queen’s Tower, so he had certainly been here before.
“It is a bit... dated.”
He chuckled and slapped his thigh. “Old Duke Brandon could never bring himself to change anything about the rooms, even once Queen Merewyn had to be moved elsewhere, and then not even after she died. By the time Duke Robert took over, the place felt like a museum, and he could do nothing about it. Besides, Countess Margaret always had an infatuation with Queen Merewyn, and she would have never forgiven her brother if he’d moved so much as a single vase.”
Rohesia was suddenly struck by how odd it must be to grow up in a home that also housed a notorious prisoner. Would some child feel about her the way Margaret had about Queen Merewyn someday? Was that how little Helena would feel?
With a slight shake, she asked, “And how is Duke Robert?”
“Healing nicely. I put my best physician on it. Broken bones at his age are never a good thing, but he is still in remarkably fine shape, and he is expected to make a full recovery.”
Happy at least at this news, Rohesia moved over to a desk near the window. On the desk, pencils and charcoal lay scattered atop curling parchment. There was no dust anywhere—the rooms had been cleaned regularly—but it all felt aged and worn.
“Were these the queen’s drawing materials?”
“They were indeed.” Broderick jumped up and joined her in studying the items on the desk. “All the sketches of Hengist Tower that hang in here were done by her. She was quite good. When I thought of what would be lost if this tower fell, I informed my catapult captains that if any of them hit it, they would be the next stone flung at the wall.”
Somehow, Rohesia believed everything he said. If Edgar, Brandon, Faustinus, and Caedmon were correct, and she firmly believed that they were, this man had intentionally driven Queen Merewyn to insanity so that she would kill her own child to give him a clearer line to the throne. And yet, he also spoke of preserving her memory as though his stepmother had been someone for whom he cared deeply.
“You should not have drawn out the war,” he now whispered in her ear. “It was stupid and unnecessary. So many people would still be alive. This beautiful city and castle would still be intact. And we could all be sitting happily back in Formacaster enjoying the peace and prosperity that comes from a well-run kingdom.”
Broderick’s fantasy was all well and good for him. But without the war, her son and brother would surely be dead. Elwyn in an unhappy marriage. Rohesia mad with grief. But his kingdom still would not have been all that he wished for, and he had to know that.
“There is more to a peaceful and prosperous kingdom. You rule now, yes. But there will be many who will always hate you, even as they smile and bow to your face. Those who will always find you... illegitimate.”
He winced, and Rohesia forced down a smile as she continued on.
“You turned 55 this year, if I remember correctly. I will admit that you have aged remarkably well, but the Sigor men in your line are not especially long lived. When your father was your age, well, he only had another four years to live. And when you die, what comes after?”
She paused to let this sink in. Broderick, Jr. was a decent young man, and she would be forever in his debt for his help in escaping Formacaster. In another situation, she might not even think he would be a bad king. But she also knew how much Broderick undervalued his son. And they were both well aware that he might not have the stomach to go to war to hold onto a throne he didn’t believe he had come by honestly.
“You can celebrate today,” she said. “But ruling a kingdom is more than a single battle. It is more than a single man.”
He clenched his jaw, so his smile was awkward when he turned it on her. “You are eloquent as always. And given your current position, especially relative to mine, I do not begrudge you words. Now, we need to go downstairs and over to the palace.”
This sudden change in topic caught her off guard. “Why? What is in the palace?”
“Why, my court. And you must be formally presented to my queen.”
***
“SO NICE YOU COULD JOIN us,” Muriel Gramiren called from where she lounged on the old Queen of Leornian’s throne. “I’m dying to hear what you think of what we have done with the place.”
The great hall was full of soldiers, nobles, and other hangers on, the walls covered in their various banners and black eagles. At a table near the thrones, other Sigor supporters had been dragged in as well—Duchess Elena, Countess Margaret Llamu and her son Kyle, Duchess Susana Barras, and several other members of Elwyn’s old set. At least the members of her set who were not young men, dead in battle. Lady Melanie Peel was one of the luckier young ladies—her husband, Sir Nathan, sat beside her, arm in a sling, but still alive. Everyone at that table looked as dejected as Rohesia felt. And yet they rose and bowed to her.
Muriel sighed theatrically. “She isn’t really anyone anymore. There is no need for that.”
“Now, now, my love,” Broderick said, pausing to kiss his wife’s hand. “She was the wife of my uncle, the king. There is no reason we cannot be gracious.”
“Darling, I am always gracious,” smirked Muriel. “Everyone says so. Look, I’ve brought food and wine for my old friends. Isn’t that right, Margaret?”
Margaret Llamu raised a wineglass. “Oh, yes. To old friends. May they freeze in the Void.” She drained her glass and tossed it on the table. “I’m ready to go back to my room. I find staring out my window at the rubble of the city of my birth infinitely superior to being in the same room with you.”
“Oh, Margaret, we’re just getting started! But where are my manners? My dear Aunt Rohesia—I can call you Aunt Rohesia, of course—please come and sit.”
A chair at the end of the table next to Duchess Elena stood empty, so Rohesia took it. From where she sat, she now noticed a long black eagle banner covering the portrait of Duke Brandon. She glanced at Elena, who must have seen it, too. But Elena dropped her gaze. Rohesia gave the poor woman’s hand a quick squeeze. If for no other reason, she would want to bring down Broderick because he deserved to pay for such a disgrace.
“So, now that we’re all here, we can chat,” Muriel beamed.
“Not all,” Margaret said under her breath. “Some got away, thank Earstien.”
“What was that, dear?” Muriel asked, her falsely cheerful tone so grating it made Rohesia want to scream. “Speak loudly enough for all of us to hear.”
“We are not all here,” Margaret overenunciated. “Our king and the Earl of Hyrne and Princess Elwyn, for instance, have declined your hospitality.”
“Yes,” grumbled Broderick. “Not to mention my brother, Robert. But I am certain with a bit more searching, the whole family can be reunited.”
So, Broderick still had not found Robert Tynsdale, either! Rohesia had not had such welcome news in a very long time. Given the sneer on Muriel’s face, however, Rohesia feared more good news might be rather far off.
“Families really do need to stick together, particularly in trying times,” Muriel said. “Don’t you agree?”
“I could not agree more,” answered Broderick, settling into the ancient throne of the Kings of Leornian.
“And Sigors should be with Sigors, I think.”
“Undoubtedly so.”
“Which is why,” Muriel now smiled broadly at Rohesia, “we have decided that you, Princess Alice, and little Lady Helena ought to go stay with your Sigor relatives in Newshire.”
Rohesia was struck nearly senseless by the announcement. “I... pardon me? What did you say?”
“You probably haven’t heard the news,” said Broderick with mock solemnity, “but poor old Duke Jeffrey recently passed away. I mourned his death via letter with my cousin Aldrick, the new duke. And in the spirit of familial love, he and I signed a peace agreement. To show his good faith, he promised to do me any service. But, well, really, it was my wife’s idea.”
Muriel waved off his words as though they were nothing. “I only want Aunt Rohesia and Cousin Aldrick to be able to support each other in this difficult time. You’ve suffered such a cruel disappointment, my dear aunt, and if there’s anyone who knows about cruel disappointments, it’s Aldrick. I’m sure you will be quite comfortable at the Prince’s Palace in Rawdon under the hospitality of Duchess Rachel.”
Rohesia felt numb. That this of all things should be her fate.
She turned and looked at Flora Byrne only a few tables away. Her old friend could not meet her eye. Some people at court knew of Rohesia’s adolescent romance with Aldrick when they had been at school. But very few knew she had almost eloped with him. Flora and Muriel were both among that number. Had they discussed that failed relationship during some long evening at Gramiren headquarters, before Flora went off to warm Broderick’s bed? Had they planned this moment, laughing together as they contrived the worst possible imprisonment for Rohesia?
She had to keep reminding herself that it did not matter. Edwin was safe. She simply needed to survive while Lawrence and Elwyn prepared Edwin to reclaim his throne.
Earstien grant her strength.
“You will leave in a few days,” Broderick said. “So enjoy your time in my stepmother’s historic rooms. Guards, please return her majesty to the tower.”