“And yet, they murdered him,” Hedrick said. He stood and started to pace the room. “How could they?”
Emily swallowed the urge to point out that the rebels hadn’t considered the king a good man, let alone a good ruler. King Jorlem had been stubborn, too slow and set in his ways to accept the need for change. If he’d let some of the tension out before it was too late, he might have been able to make reforms... she shook her head. He hadn’t realized what was going to happen until it had been far too late. And now, he was dead.
“I hoped to save him,” Prince Hedrick said. “I’d thought...”
His voice trailed off. “The queen. What happened to the queen?”
“I don’t know,” Emily said. “I didn’t see her at the gates.”
She scowled, inwardly. The last verified report had stated that the queen was in rebel custody. She hadn’t seen any female heads on pikes, but that didn’t prove anything. The queen might be sitting in a prison cell or dead, her body lying in a pile of others. Who would know the queen was the queen, if the rebels stole her jewels and clothes before executing her? Or... Emily’s imagination provided too many possibilities, each worse than the last. She thought it would be better to keep those thoughts to herself.
“Ask them,” Hedrick said. It was blunt and rude, yet she had the sense he was pleading. “Ask them what happened to the queen.”
“I will,” Emily promised. She had no idea what the public had thought of their queen... their former queen. They might have loved or hated her... they might have seen her as her husband’s helpless helpmeet or the power behind the throne. It wasn’t impossible. She’d heard more than enough nonsense about ruling queens, when Alassa had been declared her father’s heir, to last a lifetime. “And what do you want to do when you find out?”
Hedrick’s hand dropped to his sword. “I don’t know,” he said. “Crush them, perhaps.”
“Perhaps you could offer concessions in exchange for her safety,” Emily said, although she knew they wouldn’t last. The rebels would be foolish to give up such a trump card, at least not without major concessions, and the royalists wouldn’t want to make any real concessions. “And then, perhaps you can think about trying to make a deal...”
“They killed my father,” Hedrick snapped. “We cannot make a deal!”
His eyes bored into hers. “Whose side are you on?”
“I’m supposed to mediate the talks,” Emily reminded him. “I’m not allowed to have a side.”
But she knew, as she turned aside to peer through the windows, that she wasn’t being entirely honest. She’d grown to detest Hedrick in less than a day. His brother was a better man, but... he was a Crown Prince. She knew she couldn’t trust them to come to terms with the rebels and keep them. Their courtiers would be nagging them to claw back whatever concessions they made as soon as they regained their power. Her sympathies lay with the rebels, she admitted inwardly, and yet she knew the rebellion could easily get out of control. And then the city would descend into madness and death.
They might listen to me, she told herself. But only if I say what they want to hear.
She felt cold as she looked down on the streets. They were almost empty, but she could see a couple of men taking shelter on the far side of the road. Guards? Spies? If she could see two, there were probably others. Some spies were trained to let themselves be seen, in hopes of convincing their target that they’d spotted all the spies. Others had orders to make their target feel watched, in hopes of pushing him into making a mistake.
All this happened too quickly, she thought, as she turned away. Someone is pulling the strings.
There was a knock on the door. She glanced at Hedrick. “I’ll speak to them about the queen,” she said. “And you are to stay inside and consider what you might say to them when the talks finally begin.”
“If they ever do,” Hedrick said. His face darkened. “This is my city. I have the freedom to move where I like...”
Emily met his eyes. “The people outside will recognize you,” she said. Hedrick was very clearly not a commoner. The rebels might not recognize him personally, although she had her doubts about that, but they’d know he was an aristocrat. She doubted he could hide behind a glamor. “And then they will arrest you and chop off your head. And that will be the end.”
“I can’t stay here,” Hedrick said, hotly. “I’m not a coward.”
“No,” Emily agreed. She’d yet to meet an aristocrat who couldn’t be goaded into doing something stupid by an accusation of cowardice. “However, you have to keep your eye on the prize. Going into the city would be brave, but being caught would be disastrous. It isn’t cowardly to stay here.”
Hedrick nodded, curtly. Emily turned away, hoping he’d listen. Thankfully, there was no one to mock and goad him into leaving the house. If the rebels caught him... the nasty part of Emily’s mind wondered if Dater would see it as something of a relief. Hedrick was a dangerously loose cannon. He might make it impossible for the two sides to come to terms.
As if it wasn’t impossible already, Emily thought. Neither side is going to want to be the first one to make concessions.
A young man, barely old enough to shave, stood in the hallway. He wore yet another little cloth cap, and wore a drab tunic, but he looked nervous. Silent stood beside him, living up to her name. “Lady Emily? I have instructions to escort you to the People’s Palace.”
Emily smiled, as reassuringly as she could. “It will be my pleasure,” she said, as she donned her cloak and muttered a handful of protective charms. She glanced through the open door, somehow unsurprised to
