Page 54 of A Tale of Ice and Ash
“Are my people happy?”
A pause. “No, My Queen.”
“Do they fear me?”
“Yes, My Queen.”
“Do they still plot against me?”
Another pause. “Yes, My Queen.”
“Where?”
The Mirror’s reflection grew dark and murky.
“It has not yet been decided,” he announced. “Ask again tomorrow.”
Bianca balled her fingers into fists. “I will find them,” she hissed. “I will stamp them all out. This kingdom will be the richest, the greatest, the most beautiful. It will be a shining gem.”
“Of course, My Queen. You will make it so.”
“Can you see it? Can you show it to me?”
“I cannot see ahead,” the Mirror replied. “Only what is. But I believe in you, My Queen. I always have.”
She believed it too. Once she’d removed the flicker of rebellion, the kingdom would be at peace. No one would wreak havoc in their perfect city again. She would have justice. She would have order. She would have perfection.
Nothing to fear, my people, if you play by the rules. Let it never be said that I was not fair.
The fairest of them all.
∞∞∞
Eirwen was gone when Cole woke in the morning. There was a strange coldness to his bed, like she’d sucked away a warmth that hadn’t existed before.He did not remember her leaving, but there was no way she could have stayed all night, not in that dress. Whatever fugue state he’d entered after last night’s revelations, he was certain her stepping out of that dress would have snapped him out of it.
Niamh came to help get him ready for the day, chatting amiably about the party the night before. He wondered if Eirwen had seen her before she left, but the maid betrayed nothing.
He headed down to the dining hall for the breakfast buffet, dutifully taking his place beside his mother. Guests from the night before trickled in one by one.
“Good morning, Mother,” he said, as brightly as he could manage. His words tasted like bile.
“Good to see you up, dearest. I take it you had a pleasant night?”
“Perfectly so. You?”
“Can’t remember much towards the end, so it must have been!” She laughed, digging into buttery eggs. “Mmm, delightful!”
A few hours ago, she was confessing to murder. She remembered none of it. Cole shovelled toast into his mouth, but it was dry and flavourless.
Someone flounced into the seat next to him. A plump, big-eyed young girl with an impossibly bright smile. He recognised her. Maria? Mary?
“Good morning, Your Majesty, Your Highness!” she said cheerily, loading her plate with food. “I trust a pleasant evening was had by all?”
“Quite so, thank you,” the Queen replied.
Cole repeated the sentiment, although the lie tasted more bitter the second time around.
“My name is Marie,” the girl whispered to him, as his mother turned her attention to the Duchess of Pigna. “In case you forgot. Did you sleep well, Your Highness?”
