Page 21 of Lady's Steed
“Matchmaking so soon?” she squeaked.
“Perhaps, although more likely she’s hoping to become a part of your inner court.” By which he meant the gaggle of ladies that attached themselves to the queen. “Your mother never included her.”
“I’d not planned to have one.” Avera had no interest in ladies suddenly fawning for her friendship given they’d ignored her practically her entire life. Then again, they only copied the actions of her family.
“Don’t be so quick to say no. You will need to surround yourself with people you can trust,” he advised in a low tone.
“And how do I know if I can trust them?” she groused.
“That is an impossible question to answer.”
“You’re not much help.”
“Just being honest.”
Which she appreciated and hated all at once. “What should I plan for today?”
“Overseeing the funeral arrangements. Also, most likely you’ll also have people seeking audience as they begin currying for favors.”
She sighed. “I’d rather have you whack me with a sword.”
“We can do that as well. Exercise is healthy.”
“But let me guess, that exercise doesn’t include a ride on Luna.”
“Not until we can be sure we’ve handled all the assassins.”
“You think there’s more?”
“Maybe. Even one could shoot you dead with an arrow. And we now have to worry about magical traps.”
The reminder someone might still try to kill her decided her next move. “Announce that I am in mourning and I’ll not be receiving anyone until after the funeral.”
“Going to hide?”
“Actually, I’m going to the library.”
“Whatever for?”
“Information.” The more she knew, the better. Left unsaid, she could use a quiet spot where she wouldn’t feel on display.
The library, two stories in height and lined on every wall with bookshelves, had long been a haven for Avera. Despite her best efforts, she’d not managed to read a fraction of the tomes, but she kept trying. Her nightstand usually held two to three books to keep her entertained.
On this visit, she ignored the fascinating history section for the dustier shelves lined with the books on royal protocol and laws, most enshrined long before even her mother’s birth. Daerva didn’t embrace change and its citizens clung stubbornly to tradition.
Avera browsed the spines of the protocol section, titled by the years a monarch had ruled. Most spanned decades except for King Pierrot, who died after seven years due to a fall from a horse. Each book detailed the laws and precedents enacted during that particular royal’s reign as well as promotions and demotions in position. Lords and ladies could inherit their titles, but also lose them if they didn’t serve the crown to its satisfaction. A noble could find themselves stripped of rank overnight just like regular folk could find themselves rewarded and given a boost in rank.
The oldest book in the library—also the thickest—belonged to the first king, Alfred Voxspira, who’d started his reign almost a thousand years ago. He’d been the one to create The Royal Covenants, a book that outlined Daerva’s first set of laws. Avera scanned the shelves for it and frowned when she couldn’t find it.
“King Alfred’s tome with the original covenants is missing,” she murmured. She’d never read it. Why bother when she sat so far down the line of succession? She knew of it, though, because her tutor had referenced it in her history lessons.
“It must be around somewhere. Let me have the librarian fetched.” Gustav clanked off in his armor, just to stick his headoutside the door to holler. The only time he left her sight was when she used the privy, and even then, he inspected the interior before she could go.
Grigoire, an old rotund man with a crown of hair above his ears but none on his pate, came in still adjusting his navy-hued robes, the stamp of a pillow still marking his face.
“Your Majesty.” The librarian offered a bow, and she waved a hand.
“Morning, Grigoire.” She knew him well given how often she used his domain. “Sorry to have you disturbed so early.”