empress of storms (30 page)

Margot’s lips quivered. She bit down on them, assuming a grieved expression. “I know you must be upset by our actions, brother-in-law. But they were done in defense of our country and people against the machinations of the Hellene witch-queen,” she said. “We all know that she poisoned Prince Lukas’s mind and tried to kill you with that bespelled mirror. Which killed my sister!” She thumped her breastbone with one hand, wide eyes glistening now. “But I will not let her succeed in her nefarious plans to add Ypres to her royal holdings. And I will not allow her to seduce you away from your duty with her wicked magic.”

The bitch had the temerity to lie to him in his own council chamber. “Spare me the speeches, Margot,” Matthias growled. “I know what you’re doing. I found Lukas. We had a very long and detailed talk about everything, including his childhood.”

Another one of those eye flicks, hummingbird quick. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I won’t parade the full measure of your vile perversions in public. But I do know that you’re the one who gave Lukas that mirror, which means it’s your fault your sister died. As for your other claims, I can assure you that I’m not bewitched and Danaë has no intention of claiming Ypres in any way. Now get off my throne.”

Margot blinked once, slowly. Her attitude changed, the demure, pious woman he had known since childhood replaced by a stranger who plopped back down onto the throne with loose-limbed ease.

“Oh, Matthias,” she said, leaning back. “Boring, dull, tedious Matthias. I tried to warn Hanne not to marry you, you know. I told her she could never find happiness with a stodgy old stick like you. But the little idiot insisted she was in love. As for your request, I have no intention of getting off this throne. I was duly elected regent in your absence by my dear Verheyen,” she reached out and brushed fond fingers across the councilor’s cheek, “and the King’s Council, and I see no reason why I should vacate my duties.”

Verheyen’s attention was swinging between the two of them like a pendulum. “We both know a regent is supposed to serve if the king is incapacitated in some way,” Matthias said. “Summon the council. Let them question me. I believe I can prove my competency well enough.”

She tsked. “Yes, about that. I’m afraid most of them have decided to take a holiday at their country estates. And with the city closed as a protective measure, there’s no way we can convene a council.”

“Then let the people of the city decide if I’m competent to lead them.”

“The people of the city?” Margot looked as if she’d just bitten into a lemon. “They’re barely competent to wipe their own arses. You can’t rely on them to know what’s best for them. For the gods’s sakes, they’re not even that upset about the city being closed.” She lifted a hand up to study her nails. “And if they do start getting fractious, they can be placated with bread and circuses.”

Matthias didn’t think that was quite correct, but he had to admit she was just as well known to the inhabitants of Mons as he was. It might take some time for them to realize what was going on in the palace. “Disbanding the council and pacifying the city with food and entertainment won’t keep you on that throne, Margot,” he said. “You still need the rest of the country, and to do that you’ll need the military on your side, which you don’t have. And what about Reniel? Don’t you think the people of Mons will object to you butchering a prince of the Church?”

“Ah!” She raised an elegant finger, wagging it at him. “In my version of the story he’s the wicked, corrupt churchman who was in Queen Danaë’s pay. As such, he’s responsible for my sister’s death, Lukas’s disappearance, and your own ensorcellment by the witch queen. Any child could see he’s guilty of treason in that case. As for Bardahlson, it’s true he’s proving to be,” irritation crossed her features, “recalcitrant. But in the end that doesn’t matter.”

“And why not?”

She leaned forward, skewering him with a vicious grin. “Because everyone thinks you’re still in Hellas. By the way, thank you for showing up here like this. You’ve saved me the cost of an assassin.” She assumed her mournful expression again. “What a shame that you’ll disappear under mysterious circumstances while on your honeymoon. I’m sure your gawky ragamuffin of a bride will come up with some story about how she magicked you here to confront me. But I can assure you no one will believe it, not after I have couriers spread my story throughout the land. After that, no one will blame me for cutting off diplomatic ties with Hellas. I may even have to declare a state of war for their treachery and conquer their pathetic little kingdom.” She turned to Verheyen with that same twisted fondness. “What say you, my darling? Would you like to become commander of the Ypresian army and crush Hellas for me?”

The chief councilor licked dry lips. “If you wish, my lady.”

She considered it, then shook her head. “No. You’re more useful to me here. Once we rid ourselves of Bardahlson, we’ll send someone nice and hulking with just enough brains to be creative in his slaughter.”

Matthias could see Schrader tense at that, and touched the man’s arm in warning. “What do you want, Margot?” he called.

She affected surprise. “Why, what I have, brother-in-law. The throne of Ypres.”

“As regent,” he pointed out. “Not queen. Even if I die, that won’t make you Queen of Ypres. You could crown yourself, of course, but even with our shared bloodline the other eight realms won’t recognize your legitimacy. And I can assure you that Queen Danaë will not sit by if you try and take the country.”

Margot’s vile amusement faded, replaced by thoughtfulness. “You have a valid point there. Unfortunate, but valid. Well, I suppose there’s only one solution. Andreas, darling, have someone fetch up that fat little churchman from the dungeon.”

Every nerve on Matthias’s body went on alert. “Why do you need Reniel?”

She sighed as if he’d asked something ridiculous. “Because he’s the one who performed your wedding ceremony with the Hellene cow, darling. That means he can dissolve it and unite the two of us in the bonds of holy matrimony instead, making me the legitimate Queen of Ypres.” She waved at the Pauwels guards around the room. “And we’ll even have our pick of witnesses. Would you be willing to give me away, Andreas?”

Verheyen looked stricken at her suggestion. “My lady, you can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I am.” Her quicksilver mood changed again, becoming determined. “I will be Queen, as I should have been all along.”

Matthias frowned. “Is that what this is all about?” he said, trying to find his way through the quagmire that was Margot’s mind. “You’re angry because I married Hanne instead of you?”

Margot bared her teeth at him. “You would think that, wouldn’t you?” she said derisively. “It’s always about you, about a man. No woman could ever want power, or position, or respect for herself. No, our very souls revolve around you, and everything we do must reflect upon you somehow.”

Verheyen shrank from her, not willing to draw her wrath.

“We share a great grandfather, or did you forget that?” she continued, spots of color burning now in her cheeks. “And if it weren’t for Bernard the Just’s shortsightedness I would be on the throne, not you.” She thumped her chest again, hard. “I deserve it, not you!”

Matthias held himself still. What had begun as intelligence and ambition in his sister-in-law had somehow degenerated into a white-hot jealous mania without him noticing. “You have always been welcome in the palace, and your counsel has been respected and valued,” he said, working to keep his tone even. “But you cannot expect me to marry you and make you Queen. Even if Reniel was willing to dissolve my marriage to Danaë, I have no reason to put you in her place. Especially as it’s obvious you’ll have me killed as soon as it’s convenient.”

Still glowering, Margot steepled her fingers. “All right, then. Here’s a reason why you should marry me,” she said. “If you don’t, I’ll destroy everything you love, starting with Lukas. He’s still at the abbey on Atredes Island, yes?”

Matthias went cold. “You knew where he was?”

“I know ever so many things, Matthias. I can make sure his death is protracted and very painful. And then I’ll go after his little bastard daughter.” Her eyes narrowed. “Little Luna. She takes after Lukas, don’t you think? And yes, I know she’s being fostered in the cow’s palace. The Haansens were more than kind enough to give my men the entire story of your visit to that wretched little mining village. The thing is, it’s much easier to get inside a palace than you think.” She gestured to her family guards. “No one can watch all the servants all of the time. Eventually my people will get to her, and they’ll make her father’s death look like a sweet dream by comparison.

“And once I’m done with her, I’ll go after your precious little witch queen.” Margot’s smile returned, the rictus grin of a skull. “She rides in an open chariot, doesn’t she? All it would take is a single arrow, or perhaps an explosive loaded with Hellene Fire. Wouldn’t that be ironic, an Aqua mage burning to death as an unquenchable fire roasts the flesh from her bones?”

The horrible image of Danaë twisting in a sheet of fire, screaming in agony, burst through his mind. “Stop!” Matthias barked. “Damn you, stop this!”

And just like that, Margot’s rictus smile turned sweet as honey. “You’re the one who can stop it, Matthias. Divorce Danaë, make me Queen of Ypres, and I swear to you that I won’t touch any of them. If you behave yourself, I’ll even let you live.” She made a moue. “Granted, you’ll spend the rest of your life under confinement, but I’m sure you can find something useful to do with your time.”

Matthias fought the urge to leap on the long table, fling himself at the slim figure and choke the life from her. Each Pauwels guard held a pila, the heavy spear that could pierce armor. Even with Schrader and the other men at his back he’d be dead before he reached her.
Calm. Keep calm and think.
 

As knowledgeable as Margot claimed to be, she was missing one vital piece of information, and that might be enough to buy him time.

He let his fury and frustration show, tinged with a very genuine fear for his family. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll marry you. But if you think I’m sharing a bed with you—”

Margot’s laughter pealed through the room. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she chortled. “That’s what Andreas is for. No, all I want from you is your ring on my finger and the Ypresian crown on my head. You’re more than welcome to sleep alone for the rest of your life, I assure you.” She turned to her paramour, pouting. “Darling, haven’t you fetched me our traitor yet?”

Verheyen jumped to his feet. “I didn’t want to interrupt you, my lady,” he said, snapping his fingers. The two palace guards that had opened the council doors stepped forward. “Fetch Patriarch Reniel from the dungeon,” he ordered.

The guards saluted and left. Matthias glanced at the soft morning light just slanting through the room’s stained glass windows. By his best guess, two hours had passed since the Matins bell had rung. If Danaë made good on her threat to send reinforcements, they would be arriving in the storeroom now. 

Mentally he started a countdown to when the guard returned with the news that Reniel was gone.

****

Danaë stepped through the mirror, touching the pocket tied around her waist with its tiny burden. Clothing styles in Hellas differed from those in Ypres, but the outfit she now wore—dark skirt, white chemise, dark blue bodice, white kerchief over her hair—was close enough to the general style used by the palace’s female servants to pass a cursory inspection.

The cavalryman, who introduced himself as Hans Baert, gave her outfit a critical eye, then handed her an old broom. “Carry this, majesty,” he said. “My mother used to work in the palace. She always said that people never look twice at a busy servant.”

Danaë took the broom. It would make a decent blunt weapon if necessary. “Your mother is a wise woman.”

Baert smiled briefly, then sobered. “Are you sure you have to be here, majesty? The king won’t like the idea of you heading into danger.”

It was a point both Ife and Reniel had made, the patriarch with great force. All someone had to do was open the bottle. It didn’t require the services of a mage.

But Danaë had insisted on going. “Lady Margot’s actions are an attempt to overthrow the authority of the throne,” she said, repeating what she had said on the other side of the mirror. “My throne. As Queen of Ypres, that is something I will not stand for, and I intend to make this very clear to her.”

There was another reason, of course, but she had to wait until they ran into the palace guard to put it into play. And then hope it worked.

“Very well,” Baert said, gesturing for her to follow him. They made their way down the corridor, passing the entrance to the dungeon. The door creaked behind them.

“Halt!”

They turned. Two of the palace guards were behind them, swords drawn. Danaë grabbed Baert’s sword arm before he could draw his own weapon. “Don’t,” she hissed.

“Majesty!”

Shaking her head at him, she lifted her chin and gave the guards her best imperial glare. “How dare you address me in that fashion?” she snapped, pushing her kerchief back. Her dark curls sprang forward, with the deep blue lock visible. “You will greet your queen with proper respect.”

Both guards’s jaws dropped. “Y-your majesty,” the second guard stammered. “What are you doing here?”

“Providing support to your king, who was wrongfully relieved of his authority by Lady Margot Pauwels,” she sniffed.

“But she said—” The first guard broke off, scowling. To her dismay his hand dropped to the hilt of his sword. “Milady, you need to come with us.”

“Before you do anything you will regret, allow me to remind you of one very important fact,” Danaë said, praying that the palace guard was still faithful to Matthias. “With my marriage to King Matthias, I became queen of Ypres. And the declaration of regency only mentioned the king’s incompetency, not my own.” She wondered if Margot noticed her error, or had assumed that Matthias would return alone. “Which means that I am the reigning monarch in Ypres at this moment. I call upon your loyalty to the throne to aid me now and support King Matthias. Lady Pauwels is attempting to overthrow your king, and I plan on stopping her.”