Total pages in book: 208
Estimated words: 209645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1048(@200wpm)___ 839(@250wpm)___ 699(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 209645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1048(@200wpm)___ 839(@250wpm)___ 699(@300wpm)
He was sleeping with that harlot, perhaps that was it.
She had him drunk on her cunt.
“Perhaps we can resume these discussions tomorrow,” Melisse said, breaking into Mercy’s annoyed thoughts.
“I cannot tomorrow,” Elpis replied. “Silence has arranged for a docent at the library to take me on a tour of some murals my daughter-in-law particularly likes in the city.”
Well, bully for you, Mercy thought.
But of course Silence would do that.
Elpis had a daughter-in-law who was proper, respectful and did not endeavor to bewitch her son with her charms and then turn him against his mother.
Elpis pinned Mercy with her eyes. “And I’m glad for some entertainment arranged by my queen.”
Her point was not veiled.
Mercy hadn’t exactly been spending her days regaling the Relict Queen Elpis of Firenze with amusements.
But Mercy did not care about that either.
She had a great deal to do, and it wasn’t all planning a wedding. She didn’t have time to entertain a guest she did not invite to the castle.
“I’m sure you’ll enjoy that greatly,” she said.
“I’m sure I will,” Elpis murmured, rising gracefully from her chair. She dipped her chin to Melisse as she moved across the room. “Always a pleasure.” Her gaze came to Mercy and she simply said, “Mercy,” as her farewell.
Gods.
The Firenz.
She would be happy when this was all over, and she only had one of them to deal with.
Elpis wasn’t two steps out of the room before Melisse spoke.
“Have you seen G’Seph?”
“No,” Mercy answered.
“Curious,” Melisse said quietly.
Hardly.
“When those priests are in the city, they like to go to their temples,” Mercy informed her.
And they did.
To collect their tithes to take to Go’Doan.
“Hmm,” Melisse hummed while rising. “Your Grace, I’m sorry to say I shall need to leave you as well.”
Mercy nodded.
Melisse then moved closer to Mercy, not the door, and she felt her brows draw together as the woman did so.
“You have,” she said quietly, “singlehandedly, for years, kept this realm safe from rack and ruin.”
Mercy stared up at her in shock.
Melisse carried on, “It is not only a shame, it is shameful that your subtle, brave, intelligent, quiet, but in times heroic efforts will not be recorded. In generations to come, no one will know who held Wodell safe for the reign of King True. Alas, this has been the lot of many women throughout history.”
Mercy found she was having difficulty with her breathing, considering it had escalated alarmingly.
“But regardless of that, you must know you leave a legacy. A legacy of a kingdom that is whole, if not thriving as it should, to your son.” Her voice dipped. “And you have left a son who will make it thrive.”
Mercy said not a word as she concentrated on regulating her breath.
And concentrating on every syllable from Melisse’s lips.
No one, not a single soul, had remarked on what she had done.
“You have not nurtured love and devotion from your son,” she went on. “You have built respect and loyalty. Do nothing to prejudice that, Your Grace. He is who he is, but he is also who you made him. There is a great deal to take pride in that. You have given your country everything, Queen Mercy, everything,” she stressed, her message clear.
She had sacrificed much.
Including being a mother to her son.
All so Wodell would have a good and just king.
No one had ever commented on this either.
What she had given.
And what she had lost.
“Do not make that for naught now,” Melisse advised. “For soon, the fates willing, you will enjoy your efforts.”
She bent slightly, holding Mercy’s eyes.
“He is who he is,” she repeated, “and also who you made him. Let him be that and rejoice.”
Mercy remained silent as Melisse tipped her head respectfully and moved to the door.
She stopped in it and turned.
And there, she delivered her parting shot.
“It’s just incense. There,” her hand flittered out in front of her, “and then ash.”
With that, she walked out.
Mercy continued to breathe heavily as she stared at the door, and did it feeling something peculiar happening behind her eyes.
They felt prickly and hot.
She thought no more on this when her woman, Helga, appeared in the door.
Helga shot her a look, dipped a short curtsy, then dashed away.
Gods damn it.
It never ended.
Reading Helga’s silent message loud and clear, for Helga was her eyes and ears in this castle and had sent such messages repeatedly over the years, Mercy herself rose and moved out of the room, rushing in the practiced way she did this.
This being, walking very fast but without the appearance of doing so.
She sought, and found, her husband.
He was not in his formal study, a grand room with rich appointments and an extraordinary view of where the River Fae met the Great Wohd.
He was in his informal study, a small, intimate room with rich appointments (though they did not rival that of his formal study) and a view of a minute corner of the gardens.