Page 25 of Lady's Steed
Lord Petturi snorted. “None of them are even fit to run our family business let alone a kingdom.”
“You did a very brave thing.”
“Not brave, the right thing,” Petturi corrected. “I just hope when you punish my family for my father’s actions, that you at least spare my children.”
“I can do more than that, Lord Petturi. So long as you speak the truth about not being aware, you and your family, mother, wife, children, even your brothers, will not face penalty. But your father will be hanged.” That was, he’d be punished after Avera asked—screamed—why? As duke, senior Petturi had been almost as powerful as the queen already. Blame his actions on greed, an ugly facet of humanity that led to horrible acts.
“Your Majesty is most benevolent. I swear you will not regret this,” Lord Petturi’s fervently replied.
“Where is your father now, milord?” Gustav asked, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
The man shrugged. “I’m afraid I do not know. He’d left the house before I’d risen for the day.”
“I’ll find him,” Gustav promised.
“I’m sure you will,” Avera said. “But first, if you would, please escort Lord Petturi to the dining hall and ensure he’s given refreshment before you depart to arrest the former duke.” She gave Gustav a look and the rook nodded in understanding. Petturi junior would be detained on the off chance he had a change of heart and warned his father to flee.
“If milord would come with me.” Gustav held open the door but before he closed it, he glanced back at Avera. “I will leave four guards outside this door. Majesty is not to leave this room until my return.”
“And if you don’t come back, am I to wither away?”
“I will return with the traitor,” he promised.
Gustav technically did, with a corpse at any rate. It would appear the former duke realized his plotting had been uncovered and hung himself in his stable before the Grand Rook’s arrival. A pity because a public execution would have done much to boost the people’s spirits. Morbid, and yet there was a savage satisfaction in seeing criminals, especially murderers, get their due.
The bright spot? With the traitor uncovered and dead, not only did people stop whispering she might have done it, Avera started to relax. The threat had been uncovered. No need to be so vigilant.
Not according to Gustav who claimed it seemed too easy. Avera agreed but at the same time, worried about letting paranoia control her. Still, it didn’t hurt to be cautious.
Except for that short excursion into the city, Gustav remained glued to her side, although he did allow her to sleep alone at night after checking every cabinet and cranny in her room and setting not just a pair but four knights outside her door.
The next few days after the traitor’s death were a blur filled with funeral preparations. The sendoff for her mother would be elaborate given the queen had been well-loved by her people. Despite Avera being shunned by her siblings, she didn’t shirk on their funeral rites, and she ensured they were accorded much ceremony and pomp.
To Avera’s surprise, she shed a few tears as the barges of wood were pushed out onto the Lake of Tears. Those last moments with her mother had given her something she’d never expected: the love she’d always wanted. She only wished they could have had a chance to truly have a relationship.
After the funeral, life as the queen truly began even as her tiara ceremony hadn’t yet occurred. As per tradition, it wouldn’t happen until the following week, but that didn’t stop the visitors from arriving early or the seamstress from bullying her about fittings. Avera had begun to dread seeing Violette with her measuring tape and tin of pins. Avera had to gently remind the seamstress that she preferred a simple gown, not something with waves of frothy skirts and a too-tight bodice. Her sisters and mother might have favored those, but Avera liked to breathe. Already her wardrobe had been subtly adapted, her worn and comfortable gowns replaced with richer fabrics and slightly more ornate designs.
A few days after the funeral, Gustav said, “It’s time.”
“Time for what?” she asked.
“To stop hiding in your office.”
She wanted to refute his claim only she had been. “Not hiding, working.” Trying to grasp the current state of Daerva, reading all the documents that arrived daily wanting the queen’s attention.
“There’s more to work than signing things.”
A nudge that led to Avera holding her first audience where she sat on the uncomfortable throne as lords and ladies gave her condolences and pledged fealty before the coronation.
Despite Duke Petturi having taken his own life, Gustav remained hypervigilant, and his paranoia proved contagious. It led to Avera wondering, had the former Duke worked alone? The notes seemed to indicate he’d involved no one else, but what had been his ultimate goal? And how had the assassins managed to make it to shore? Someone either helped them or turned a blind eye.
That line of thinking led to her demanding a meeting with Admiral Venne who handled their fleet of ships, a pompous man with so much white hair even his ears sprouted tufts.
“Majesty. You called for me?” Admiral Venne’s bow proved shallow, and his demeanor less than pleased at being summoned.
“Admiral, thank you for coming. Given recent circumstances, I’d like to see an increase in patrols of our shoreline,” Avera stated.
“Why?” Venne bluntly inquired.