The Broken Crown

Chapter 23

Raymond

Westhall seemed more silent and dark after the burial. Without the new Queen’s beaming, charming smile and her easy laughter, her clothes in bright colours and rich silks from across the sea, the castle seemed empty. Wherever she went, she wore the dark blue and coal black colours of mourning, even if what she had lost had been barely more than blood. To her, Raymond knew, it had been a child; a child, which she had already given life in her own mind.

That was what Raphael told him, at least. Gabrielle said that she had been the one to convince Adrianne that she was with child, and she had told how brightly the Queen had smiled at the news. Now she didn’t smile at all.

She still carried herself beautifully, with a posture that any young girl would want to mimic. Her face was set in stone, emotionless except for when it watered and she had to turn away from whoever she was with to blink away the tears.

All in all, it seemed the court had fallen into a slumber ever since the miscarriage.

The only one who seemed unaffected by the events was Lucretia. She’d even changed from her usual grey-and-black dresses to a midnight blue silk. Her hair was braided almost fashionably when she entered the room in which Jonathan, Raymond and Thomas were sitting.

They were in the King’s tower, in one of the chambers situated close the council room. It was meant for meetings between council members and lords and ladies outside of the council and was not protected by the same silence and integrity as the council room itself.

Once the Queen Dowager entered, the three men all stood up and waited for her to seat herself. When she had found a seat, Jonathan spoke, “To what do we owe your presence, Your Majesty?”

The look she gave him was empty of emotion, for once. Lucretia and Jonathan were equals when it came to ambition; in fact, they were most like to be the most ambitious people at court, although both of them had a fault which halted their rise in power; Lucretia was a woman and Jonathan was a commoner.

“The Queen’s Tour was a high expense,” she said matter-of-factly, apparently in a rush to get to her point, “and an unnecessary one, if you take into account the stories of the ladies who were attacked not much more than a week ago.”

Thomas groaned impatiently. “We caught the attackers and they died a traitor’s death. What more would you have done?”

Lucretia’s eyes glowed with anger. “What more? Did you know one of them was raped? In an open street, forced to walk through the capital indecently?”

Raymond shook his head; it was obvious that his mother cared little for the lady’s health or happiness. “What is your point?”

“While we were on the Tour,” the Queen Dowager continued, ignoring her son’s words, “this very castle was attacked. They say that if the Guard had had their full forces at the ready, the attack could have been fended off.”

“It was fended off,” Thomas remarked, an eyebrow raised. “And there is a difference between ‘attack’ and ‘theft’.”

“Nevertheless, these are two challenges to this castle, to the royal family – challenges that the three of you promised would not happen if we gave the people a distraction.”

The three councilmen exchanged glances. They all knew she was right, and this was the very reason they’d assembled that day. “The root of the problems lie in the south,” Jonathan finally said. “It’s in the Branches that this uprising began. It is obvious that we were too slow to stop it from spreading.”

Lucretia let out a humourless laughter. “So you’re telling me this could all have been avoided if the Queen’s Tour had started earlier?”

“It’s quite possible,” Jonathan said.