Page 4 of The Crimson Throne
“Why don’t I play something?” Lady Fleming says. Most of thewomen are embroidering or knitting in the solar, but a harp and a lyre rest in the corner for our amusement.
I don’t know there’s a violin on the table until she picks up the bow and scrapes it across the strings.
“No.” Queen Mary’s voice is icier than a Highland blizzard.
Lady Fleming gapes at the queen but quickly masks her surprise. She wasn’t there that night. She doesn’t remember the way a violin splinters on bloody stone.
But she puts the instrument down silently.
It’s been almost nine months since the attack. Mary’s baby was born. She fell desperately ill for a time after and was isolated for her health. Darnley has been mostly cavorting with cronies and absent from court. But that thrice-damned traitor of a husband will be returning to Stirling soon for little Prince James’s christening.
“I do wish he could simply remain at Edinburgh,” Mary says, sighing. It’s no secret that she’s essentially fled the capital, ceding him that win just to put distance between them. I may have influenced her a bit in that choice, pushing her to isolate from Darnley while I tried to pinpoint the root of the Red Caps’ weapons crossing the border.
“If I had to be married to Darnley, I do believe I’d prefer to keep him in a separate castle as well,” says Lady Seton, and the others all titter.
“I’d rather keep him in a separate sewer,” I mutter.
The giggles fade. I look around and silently curse myself. Right. I must remember my place. Darnley is the king consort still. And Lady Seton’s ribbing is acceptable due to her higher station, but my status is lower, therefore my comment, as usual, has crossed an invisible line.
I duck my head, hands clasped demurely in front of me. Everyone in the room waits to see Mary’s reaction.
Her lips twitch. A smirk.
I’m safe.
Mary’s happy chatter fades into a weak cough, and I go very still. Everyone does. The paleness of her skin has nothing to do with the powder she dabs on in the morning. Traces of her near-deadly sickness remain, a stark and bitter reminder that I cannot protect her from everything.
At least one of the Red Caps’ murderous tools—some sort of poison—got past me. It took a deal I’m not proud of to get a bezoar to save Mary’s life, and even that was a close call.
“Your Highness?” I ask softly as the queen’s shoulders shake. She clears her throat, waving me off. There are others closer to her, eager to be the one to give the queen water, a handkerchief, sympathetic smiles. I’m stuck in the shadows, ignored.
Most of the women in this room are human, but there are a few Leths scattered among them. It’s an…odd situation. I’m the highest-ranking Leth in Scotland. My father is a fae prince, for feck’s sake, and fully half my blood is magic. Meanwhile, Lady Reres has only a fae great-grandfather in her lineage and can barely make a candle flicker, yet she’s much higher in the court than me. So I get her respect, but part of the time.
That’s what “Leth” means anyway. Part. Part fae, part human.
Never whole anything.
I stab my cloth with a needle. This task is soinane, and I have far more important things to do. I detest the fact that in order to remain close to the court, I have to pretend to care about any of this shite.
But that is the nature of the duty my father assigned me at birth. If I am to protect Scotland, I must start by protecting the queen. A stable court here reflects a stable court in the fae realm connected to this land.
My stomach twists into knots. It’s not enough for me to be abodyguard to the queen. That’s not even my real duty. My purpose at court is primarily to ensure the safety of the fae realm. Usually that means ensuring the throne is stable—peace here equates to peace there. But above everything is the need to protect both realms from Red Caps.
I’ve found three more weapons in as many months.
Three more items cursed with Red Cap magic. So far, we’ve been lucky. I intercepted a vial of liquid that—with one drop—would poison any well and had the potential to kill thousands of people. I confiscated a dagger imbued with beithir venom and then uncovered a pair of shoes that had been sent to the queen that would have eaten her flesh until there was nothing left of her feet but dry, white bones.
The problem is I have no ideawhopositioned these items so recklessly around Stirling—not just the village but here in the castle. Darnley is the prime suspect, but my spies report that he mostly spends his time hunting, drinking, and sleeping with women other than his wife. He might be the mastermind behind it all, but I have doubts his mind is capable of mastering anything.
No, the real issue isn’t Darnley, which is the only reason I’ve not ignored the queen and killed the idiot as I’d like.
The real issue is thatsomeoneis getting weapons from Red Caps, and I’m not sure who, where they came from, how many there are, or when one will be used next.
Mary’s laugh rings out amid the group of women. I scowl at my cloth, because it would be too well noticed by the ladies if I scowled at the queen.
Even though Mary is only a few years older than me, she often thinks of me as a child rather than someone equal to her, much less more powerful than her. She believes her crown is of higher importance than my magic. And she knows that part of my mission is to protect thefae by keeping them hidden…which means I shall never be able to show the world just how powerful I can be.
What even is the point of being the most powerful Leth in all of Scotland?
