Something climbs its way through me, swirling around my insides as we walk toward the throne room. I wish I knew what it is.
My guards are flanking me, and there are more ahead. Afet and Eldim stay close. How will this affect them? Will my changing the taxes yet again have a backlash on them, not just me? It's hard to say. I haven't a clue how the people are going to react.
We see no signs of people in the halls. Not even the typical servant or two. So much for someone looking to take my life. Of course, I did send word ahead to have the people meet me in the throne room. Perhaps my assassins are biding their time there.
When we get to the back door of the throne room, I hesitate to give any orders. What situation am I putting us into? Are these guards going to lose their lives? Am I?
Better me than someone else.
Maybe I should have listened to Afet and stayed hidden, but I can't handle doing so when I can appease the people, even if it means losing the man I care about.
I stumble over nothing and fall straight to the floor. No doubt one of my guards could have caught me, but it would mean their death. I can't touch anyone. You'd think I wouldn't care, after a lifetime of only touches of the wicked kind, but I find myself yearning for something soft and kind, if a bit calloused. Nash.
Why am I letting my thoughts stray at a time like this?
Because I'd rather deal with them than what must come.
“Your Majesty, are you all right?” Eldim's voice comes from above me.
“Fine.” Just fine.
I pick myself off the floor.
I'd rather have stayed there.
I nod to the door, and the guard closest to it opens it. They hurry through until it's my turn. I slink through the opening, taking in everything around me.
It's almost too much. The room is filled with people. And the noise… it's fierce and angry.
I have done my people wrong.
It's time to fix that.
My guards surround me on the dais and flow out into the room in front of me as I try not to think of Nash.
Anything but him.
“My people.” My voice rings out clear and strong against the crowd. They simmer down, though they don't quiet all the way. “I have done something I'm ashamed of. I have raised taxes for those I care about the most—the poor and the needy. I will be honest with you. I have done so because my Head Advisor was kidnapped, and threats were sent that if I didn't tax you more, there would be deadly consequences for him.”
The noise dies. I swallow, trying to find a way to say what must be said. “I am sorry for doing this to you. I only wanted him to survive. But I know that can't be. I have done you wrong in my attempt to save him. I won't ask for your forgiveness. I don't deserve it. But I will return the laws to the way things should be. The Poruah will have little to no taxes, the Medi class, very few taxes, and those who can afford it most will take the brunt of the taxes. I'm sorry anyone has to pay any at all. We are doing what we can to minimize government spending so we don't have to charge as much.”
So many words, and none of them the ones that will bring him back.
The people respond well, though. A cheer rises up. I take a closer look at them than I did before. They are wearing tattered clothes, and dirt smudges their gaunt cheeks.
The Poruah.
How many were here before, wanting to take my life, and how many gathered after they heard I would be speaking to them? It doesn't matter. They're here, and they heard. Maybe now the threats on my life will ease. Though I didn’t do this for my safety or that my guards can pay me less attention. If anything, they're more vigilant than ever—faces stern, hands on hilts, eyes taking in everything.
Their vigilance makes me proud.
“What if you change your mind again?” someone from the crowd yells.
“Right,” another calls out.
“She could do it.”
“We're never safe with her as queen.”
An odd sensation is all the warning I get. I duck, only to feel the wind on my skin as an arrow whips by. My neck stings, but not enough to get in the way of my action.
I fling myself to the side, daggers in hands. I bump into a guard and jerk away from him, hoping I didn’t injure him.
“This way, Your Majesty,” Eldim calls out.
The guards have formed a pathway straight out of the room. I follow it.
I can tell the crowd is restless when I glance back. Some people come after me, some stand still, and others race for the other end of the room, where the exit is. I focus my attention on the path before me.
“Duck,” Afet yells.
I throw myself to the ground, ignoring the sting to the front of me where I land. Someone groans in pain. I get to my feet, keeping my head ducked down. A guard in front of me has an arrow coming out of his shoulder.
An arrow meant for me. I stand still, staring at it.
“Get out of here,” Eldim hollers.
I press forward, diving through the doorway. Several guards run in after me, and Afet slams the door closed. I get to my feet, feeling foolish for overreaching for the floor, and make for a jog away from the fray.
Why are the people trying to kill me now? I'm giving them what they want. Or is it someone sent by Daros?
“Over here, Your Majesty,” Eldim says.
I follow him up a flight of stairs, though my thoughts are scattered. Of course they tried to kill me. I can't be consistent; it's going to be a long time before I can get anyone to trust me again.
I’m a killer of dreams.
Everyone's dreams.
Even when I try to do the right thing, I end up doing wrong.
I try to shut my brain down as we move through the palace. We come to a desolate area. There's no sound except that of our feet padding and our hard breathing as we jog. We slow to a fast walk. I glance in rooms we pass and find sheets draped over the furniture.
At least someone listened to me and closed up part of the palace.
After we've gone a ways in, Eldim darts into one of the rooms, I go in, and the rest of the guards follow.
“This should have us in a good place to wait out the crisis, Your Majesty,” Eldim says.
After what happened with Stird, I don’t want to trust him, but I’m not sure I have any other choice right now. Not if I’m to be a queen with guards.
The room is like the others, with giant white sheets covering everything. It looks like there is a couch and several chairs. Unsurprisingly, the cream walls are decorated with paintings of Valcora. I feel like I've seen enough of it through the paintings that I'd recognize places if I were to travel the country. Which maybe I should. Maybe people would like me more outside this city.
“This should be fine.” I pull a drape off the couch and take a seat, though I feel more like taking someone down. I need to cool off. To think about what happened.
The people attacked me.
Not an assassin, the people.
I've got to do a better job at this queen thing. I don't know what else to do, though. For starters, having Nash back at my side would help. I wince. Daros has probably gotten word I've changed the taxes back and is likely taking care of him for good. How am I going to deal with this?
I shy away from these forbidden thoughts.
Maybe it wasn’t the people. Maybe it was Daros again. It has to be.
I focus on what needs to happen. “We just wait this out?” I ask.
Eldim and Afet share a look. Afet is the one who braves speaking. “If they simmer down, we'll be fine, but if they don't, we might have to move you out of the city.”
“It's not like they can take the job away from me.” Then I remember. “They'll just kill me.”
“We won't let that happen, my lady,” Eldim says.
I glance around at the soldiers in the room. There's a dozen of them, carefully stationed around the room. Several stand by the doors, and two by each window—though staying out of direct view. These men are willing to give their lives for me. How am I returning the favor? By getting them shot.
Τhe man that was hit with the arrow. “Where's the injured guard?” I ask.
“He got left behind.” Eldim says matter-of-factly.
“How did that happen?” I jump to my feet and head toward the door. “We have to help him.”
“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” Afet says. “If we go back for him, we'll be bringing him more danger than if we leave him there. The other guards will see to him.”
They're right, although that doesn't make me feel better.
I pace.
There's so much going on; my mind is overwhelmed. One thing is certain—I've got to stop making people put their lives on the line because of me.