Page 23 of An Archer's Redemption

My head dropped into my hands, and my chest began to heave.

“Enough,” I chided myself, swatting at pesky tears that streaked the grime on my face and rising to my feet. “It is past time I cleaned myself and became the Queen my father taught me to be.”

I unlaced my boots and tossed them aside, then wandered to the bath the staff must have drawn the moment they learned I was headed their way. The water was now tepid, but the lavender oils relaxed my mind as rich soap melted the dusty road from my skin. I could have soaked in that water for hours, had a banging on my door not drawn me out of my relaxation.

“I need a moment,” I called.

“Yes, Highness. We will wait outside.”

Reluctantly, I toweled off and threw on a simple gown, determined to be seen for my words and actions rather than the Palace’s finery. I had to earn respect from the men of the Council, and seeing me as more than a churlish, fashion-obsessed girl was a start.

Or so I told myself.

Two green-and-gold-liveried servants waited outside my chamber. They led me through the Palace halls and opened the double doors to the audience chamber, lowering their heads as I stepped past.

I entered to the side of the thrones and walked toward the Council table where the Ministers were assembled—at least those who remained in the capital while the Kingdom pursued its war in the east. Only four of the eight Privy Councilors stood behind their high-back chairs awaiting my arrival, representing Trade, Foreign Affairs, Justice, and the Crown’s Treasury. Notably absent were High Chancellor Thorn, Minister of War Bril, High Sheriff Wilfred, and General Marks.

At the far end of the table, a tall, thin man I didn’t recognize stood; his long blue robes lined with one band of gold rustled as he bowed. The other men had their backs to the door and startled at the man’s sudden gesture, turning and offering their own respects.

I approached the table and rested a hand on the chair at its head, desperate to keep it from quivering beneath a hornet’s nest of nerves that threatened my stomach and chest.

“Thank you for coming so quickly, gentlemen. A lot has happened . . . is happening . . . in the east, and I do not know . . . I am unsure . . . how much news made it back to the capital.” I took a deep breath and pulled the chair back to sit but found myself unable to take my seat while everyone else stood glaring.

Foreign Minister Bacras cleared his throat as he took his own seat. “Highness, why don’t you start with whyyoucalled us here. It is most unusual for . . . well . . .”

“For a Princess to call the Council into session?” I finished his thought.

Bacras nodded, his lips pursed.

Treasurer Dask crossed his arms and frowned, clearly disgruntled by the presumption in the Princess’s summons. He had yet to sit.

I nodded and sucked in another deep breath. These men had never made me nervous before. Why did my heart feel like Dittler’s hooves pounding against my chest?

“My father . . . the King . . . he is dead.”

Dask dropped into his chair while the others stared open-mouthed at the teenager before them.

No one spoke.

I had no clue what I expected, how I thought they might react. Shouts? Insults? Talking over each other, perhaps a few tears shed for my fallen father?

Astonished silence was not high on my list, but the sound of men breathing . . . trying not to be heard breathing . . . filled the hall.

I looked from one face to the next and fought the urge to bolt from the room.

The men’s eyes said it all.

They didn’t wantmeon the throne.

In fact, I thought a thread offearran through their expressions. I decided to take Atikus’s advice and play to their paternal instincts.

“No one feels this loss more than I do. It has been weeks since his passing, but it feels like yesterday.”

“Weeks?” Dask exclaimed. “How are we just hearing of this? Why was no messenger sent to inform this Council?”

I sat in the High Chancellor’s seat at the head of the table and stared into the glossy wood surface.

“After my mother killed the King—”

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