empress of storms (31 page)

It was the real reason why she had to come. Only she had the power to command the palace guard to obey her and support Matthias against Margot. Whether or not they would do that was another matter entirely.
My love, I hope your guard is loyal to you, otherwise this is about to get challenging.

The palace guards exchanged a look, and the first one licked dry lips. “Majesty,” he said, “Lady Pauwels said that you’d killed Queen Hanne with magic. That you were trying to kill the king with it as well.”

“Don’t be a fool!” Baert snapped. “Queen Danaë wouldn’t do such a thing!”

She held up a hand and Baert subsided. “Queen Hanne was killed by a bespelled mirror that was sent to King Matthias as a present, yes,” she said. “But it was Lady Pauwels who arranged to have it sent to them, not I. I love King Matthias with all my heart, and I swear on my family’s honor that I would never hurt him.” She swallowed her terror for him and took a breath. “Gentlemen, think. I stand here with a single soldier, one of your
own
cavalrymen, at my side. If I wanted to kill the king, or Lady Pauwels for that matter, wouldn’t I have a platoon of my own soldiers with me? Better yet, wouldn’t I have sent them on while I stayed in Hellas where it was safe?” She shook her head. “I am risking capture, injury, and execution because I know Lady Pauwels means to kill my husband, your king. I do not intend to let that happen. Now, will you show your loyalty to your king and help me?”

Another long, complicated look. Finally, just as Danaë started to ready a defensive spell, both soldiers thumped their breastplates in salute. “We’re loyal to our king, majesty, and to you,” the second one said. “What are your orders?”

She ignored the looseness in her knees. There would be time to collapse from relief later. “Tell me what’s going on in the council chamber, and don’t leave out a single detail.”

****

The Pauwels guards had taken charge of Matthias’s men, stripping them of their weapons and herding them into the far corner of the council chamber. Schrader was with them, face blank but his eyes sharp and watchful.

Matthias had been seated in the chair to the left of his own usual spot, but not before a stone-faced guard had stripped him of his sword and dagger. He folded his hands on the polished wooden tabletop, evaluating possible scenarios. Margot losing what was left of her sanity and ordering his execution. His men deciding on a suicidal bare-handed attack in his defense. Danaë making good on her threat and a troop of Hellene
hoplites
bursting through the chamber door.

The one thing he refused to consider was marrying Margot. And not just because Reniel was no longer in the palace and unable to annul his marriage to Danaë. By giving into that demand, even if it was a sham marriage, it felt like betraying Lukas, and Hanne, and everyone else who had been fallen prey to Margot’s ambition.

Margot still sat on the throne, her long, elegant fingers drumming on the tabletop. Now she stopped, getting to her feet and pacing. “Where in the gods’ names have those fools gone?” she demanded. “It can’t be that hard to pull a fat man out of a cell…”

She trailed off, eyes moving back and forth as she began to put the pieces together. “I didn’t ask you how you got into the palace, did I?” she said to Matthias. “Much less with eleven men in tow. I know the palace guards are fools, it’s why I brought my own men from home, but even they can keep a party of twelve from breaching the walls.”

“My guards aren’t fools,” Matthias said, pitching his voice so that it could be heard both by Schrader’s cavalrymen and the two palace guards at the door. “But any good homeowner knows how to get into his own home, even if it isn’t by the front door.”

She focused on him now, eyes lit with black amusement. “A secret entrance? I know all four of them, Matthias. They’re guarded by my men even as we speak.”

“Five.” Every minute he bought with a lie was a minute longer that his men lived, a minute closer to Danaë’s troops making their entrance. “There are five secret entrances, Margot. One is known only to the king. You never heard about it because, well…” He lifted one shoulder. “You’re not the ruler, are you?”

A pulse leapt in her throat. “I think I’ll make you sleep in a kennel,” she said after a long pause. “I’ll have one of the rooms in the royal wing stripped of everything except a kennel, a bowl of water, and some hay on the floor. You’ll be kept in there naked when I don’t need you for appearances. It’ll be very cold in there this winter. Perhaps a few months of suffering through freezing temperatures will make you more appreciative.”

“This is how you would treat your king?” Matthias wished he could risk a look at the palace guards. The Pauwels men, they were loyal to Margot, undoubtedly promised wealth and positions of power in her new reign. But the palace men would follow Margot because the royal council had granted her that authority. If they could be convinced that she was unbalanced, that put two more men in his pocket. “You would torture me because I know things you don’t?”

“That
is
the point of torture, you know,” she snapped. “And you’re the one who’s making me do it. But you can have a comfortable room, clean food and reasonable entertainment if you tell me where this fifth entrance is.”

He made a show of considering, drawing out the moment as long as possible. “I swore my father an oath that I would not pass that information on to anyone other than my heir. And while you may become my wife today, that does not make you my heir.”

He winced when she grinned in triumph. “Oh, so all I have to do is wring it out of Lukas, do I? Fine. I’ll have his scarred carcass brought back here and get it out of him. He’ll talk to me. He loves his Auntie Margot.” She leaned on the table, a sultry look blooming on her face. “Shall I tell you just how much he loves me? Or for how long? He’s never been your heir. I took him to my bed and made him mine long before you ever thought to teach him kingly secrets.”

Matthias’s gorge rose and he forced it back down. “I know you raped my son.”

“Rape?” she sneered. “He enjoyed it. All young bucks do, even if they don’t have hair on their balls yet.”

He took in Verheyen with a brief look. The chief councilor was staring at Margot now in dull horror. He would have seen the elegant lady at parties, the courtier speaking with noblemen and wealthy merchants, the politician wrangling to strip a rightful king of power.

This was his first view of the monster behind that sweet face. Perhaps there was a chance of winning him over as well. Matthias opened his mouth to goad her further when the council doors opened and the first pair of palace guards came in dragging a maidservant.

Margot glared at the trio. “That is not Patriarch Reniel.”

“Sorry, milady. We found her wandering the halls,” one of the guards said, bowing to Margot. “We thought you’d want to see her.”

“Why in the world would I want to—”

The servant lifted her head, revealing a sun-kissed Hellene complexion. Matthias’s gut went cold. “Danaë,” he whispered. “No.”

His beautiful bride, his witch queen, shrugged off the guards’ hands. She raised one eyebrow in icy disdain at Margot. “Good morning, Lady Pauwels. I’ve come to reclaim my king.”

A wealth of expressions tumbled across Margot’s porcelain face, settling on amused disbelief. “Queen Danaë,” she said, tilting her head in greeting. “You never cease to surprise me.”

“It’s one of my many charms,” Danaë replied. “Now, I order you to dissolve your regency and return control of the country back to King Matthias.”

All heads in the room turned back to Margot. His sister-in-law’s eyebrows had risen to her hairline. “You have no power here,” she said, as if correcting a slow child. “In fact, you do not have permission to enter the country, the city, or my palace. As such, I’m within my rights to consider this an enemy invasion and retaliate.”

“But you’re not,” Danaë said. “By right of treaty and marriage, I am Queen of  Ypres. By your own declaration of regency, Matthias, and
only
Matthias, is incapacitated and unable to rule. Which leaves me as the sole ruler of Ypres.” She flashed a smile at Matthias. “It’s temporary, of course. You’ll get your throne back, I promise.”

“I have complete faith in you, my love,” Matthias said, even as his heart pounded.
What the hell are you doing, little bird? And where are your men?

“So I’m giving you one last chance, Lady Pauwels.” All humor had died from Danaë’s voice, and her blue eyes were cold as winter. “Surrender your regency and turn yourself over to the palace guard, or suffer the consequences.”

Margot folded her arms, studying the woman across from her. Pursing her lips, she turned to the guards. “Kill her.”

****

“No!” Matthias jumped from his seat. A grim-faced guard in Pauwels livery leapt forward and grabbed him.

There was no more time. Danaë pulled the little silvered perfume bottle from her pocket. The stopper had been sealed with wax to keep it in place and prevent the contents from escaping. A firm twist and it popped free.

She held up the bottle. “Lady Margot Pauwels, I accuse you of the murder of your sister, Queen Hanne of Ypres,” she said. “You were the one who supplied her son with the demon mirror that killed her. Now reap what you have sown.”

The air above the bottle’s neck shimmered as if with heat haze, and then a dull pewter mist boiled out into the air. It hung there for a moment, twisting and billowing outward until it took the form of a spectral woman. The ghost was colored in tones of grey, with long pale hair streaming out from her head like bleached seaweed. Danaë could only see the spirit from the back, but knew Margot, Verheyen, and Matthias recognized its face from the horrified expressions on their own.

The revenant spirit of Queen Hanne threw her head back and howled, the sound clawing over long bones and sending cold shudders down spines. Her long, bony fingers, stretched in a painful bend from the palms, sprouted silvery talons.

“Murderess!” she cried. “Foul sister, to do me to death in such a way!”

“No!” Margot screamed, cowering back on the throne. “I didn’t, I didn’t, it was Lukas! Mercy, Hanne, I beg you!”

“I know nothing of mercy, murderess.” The voice was inhuman, icy and pitiless. “Only vengeance, only punishment, only wrath!”

She shot forward and hovered over Margot. Cruel talons came down and the regent of Ypres screamed, high and gabbling like a rabbit caught by a hawk. A spray of garnet red flew into the air, spattering against the stone wall.

The Pauwels guard grappling with Matthias let go, rushing to his mistress to pull the revenant off her. It turned from Margot long enough to rake its hands over his face. He fell back screaming, face torn to shreds and leaking gore. The other liveried guards shrank back along the walls, and more than a few fled the room.

Horrified, Danaë rushed to Matthias’s side, forcing herself to watch as the revenant clawed at the flailing, shrieking Margot. On the other side Verheyen had collapsed to the floor and was crawling away from the carnage. A heavy, iron-salt stench now permeated the air, the scent of blood, flesh, and death. Gagging, Danaë pressed a fist against her mouth, willing herself not to vomit.

The screams ceased and Margot’s body went limp under the revenant’s slicing talons. The revenant paused in mid-butchery, staring down at the dead form of her sister. Then she turned.

Not a drop of blood had stained the ghost, not even on its wicked talons. But Danaë could see translucent tears, silvery in the morning light, running down Hanne’s hollow cheeks. “Why?” she moaned. “Why, Matthias? Why did she do this to us?”

Danaë heard Matthias suck in a shuddering gulp of air as he stared at the spirit of his first wife. “She wanted the throne,” he said, his voice thick. “She didn’t care who suffered in the process.”

Hanne spared the corpse of her sister a last look, then closed her eyes, head drooping. The grey tones began to leach from her body, turning her transparent. “My vengeance is done,” she whispered. Her eyes opened again, still silver but somehow more human. “Now I can go.”

Danaë felt Matthias’s chest vibrate as he muffled a sob, reaching out to her lightening form. “I loved you,” he said, choked. “Gods, Hanne, I loved you.”

“And I loved you.” Those silver eyes fell on Danaë, and there was a plea in their depths. “Take care of him, child of Cresus. For me.”

Tears rising, Danaë nodded. “I will. I promise.”

Satisfied, the ghost of Hanne Pauwels, Queen of Ypres, spread her arms. A beam of sunlight fell on her glassy form, reflecting a spray of rainbow color that dazzled all eyes in the council chamber.

When it cleared, she was gone.

Turning, Matthias pulled Danaë into his embrace, his grip just this side of painful as he buried his face in her hair. He muttered something too soft to hear, but she understood it.

Hanne.

She shifted just the tiniest bit, shielding him from the rest of the room so that no one could see their king mourn for his lost queen.

****

It was almost dawn the next day when the Hellaspont Master of Ceremonies retired to his study with a large jug of his favorite wine and strict instructions to his servants that he wasn’t to be disturbed. After a day like the one he’d just endured, he felt he deserved a bit of private indulgence.

Not that the royal wedding of King Matthias and Queen Danaë had been a failure. Far from it. Despite their inexplicable destruction of his original schedule (and oh, the uproar he’d had to manage from the Matriarch on down over that), the couple had finally made their promised appearance at the Cathedral of Lis just as the sun began to set. Miraculously, the cheering populace lining the roads hadn’t minding waiting a few extra hours for a glimpse of the newlyweds, although a quick distribution of wine, beer, and cakes had helped with that.

As for the ceremony itself, it had been note perfect. If the queen seemed pale and the king bore a haunted look, well, that wasn’t his fault. At least their attire was perfect and the ceremony conducted by Matriarch Elisabet Veterli was both uplifting and romantic. There hadn’t been a dry eye in the cathedral as the Matriarch linked their queen and the King of Ypres in holy matrimony, signaling a new era for both countries.