?nnywella sits down on the couch in the queen's library, taking a moment to bask in the quiet room, where it is just her and Kolaus. “I’m sorry, Kolaus.” She had shirked most of her non-essential work from the past few days onto the aging advisor in order to spend time with Ilsenila and celebrate H?rfende; because of this, the two had not had the time to discuss the letter from M?rel Humel.
“It’s fine.” Kolaus, setting the once anonymous letter down, turns in the chair at the writing desk to face Gekaryna, his tone wry. “I can think of nothing I love more than calculating end-of-harvest tithes and writing people on your behalf in order to have them collected.” Gekaryna’s actions did not surprise him; ?thalrykk had been the same. “I have enough faith in you to know you won’t make this a habit—will you?”
She shakes her head as she exhales the smoke from her cigarette. “No, no, of course not.” She pauses, hoping she didn’t end up giving him so much work that he could not spend time with his family. “I didn’t see you at the college yesterday; did you spend H?rfende at home with your family?”
“Yes, I went to the stalls in the entertainment district with Gayl and his children.” He picks the letter up and taps it with the back of his hand. “Now, onto more pressing matters: what's this about?”
“That letter was sent by M?rel Humel; I am sure of this, as ?ppolonya Humel, the priestess, confirmed that she is M?rel's estranged niece. She provided me with the letters she had received from M?rel since she joined the college, and I had Franheska compare the handwriting—she determined they were penned by the same author.” ?nnywella grinds the butt of her cigarette out in the ashtray; she reaches into her pocket to get another but stops and blows hot air into her hands. The queen’s library, lacking both a fireplace and a connection to the central heating found in newer parts of the castle, always gets intolerably cold in the winter. She sits on her hands, hoping her long wool skirt will help.
Kolaus wrinkles his nose. “I wish he weren’t so vague about what could be going on within the advisors, but it’s reasonable for him not to want to give you any information so you can’t use anything against him in case you decline. So will you be accepting his offer?”
“Yes, I intend to. The margin of error on Franheska’s plan is far too great for me not to have any sort of backup plan.” She had spent too much time looking for that damn cape to change her mind.
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“So if Styd?n falls, and you decide to siege and take the city, you’re going to agree to make him the baron?” Kolaus raises his eyebrows and cocks his head, making it clear that he has great doubt about M?rel’s ability to rule.
?nnywella laughs and shakes her head. “Of course not. M?rel has issues with another group in Styd?n, though I’m not sure who they are. I have other ideas of who should be in charge.”
“So who do you think you should give the city to?”
“A freshly taken city? I can think of no one better than Romyl Dornytter—” She stops, watching Kolaus raise his finger.
“I do not recommend that.” He says slowly. He has a good idea why she would choose Romyl, rewarding him to keep him loyal, but this is risky; she must think a choice like this through. “You and Romyl are not on the best terms—I would raze Styd?n before placing the man in control of your military power, who you are in the ire of, in charge of his own city.”
She stops to think; his critique had stopped her confidence in its tracks. She takes her hands out from under her and lights a cigarette. “I figured rewarding him would be a way to get myself back into his favor.”
“He doesn’t take kindly to his son being given ‘unearned’ gifts. What makes you think he will be more welcoming to the title of Baron?”
“He would have worked for it. It would have been his men and his strategy that won the siege—"
Kolaus stops ?nnywella again. “That’s how I figured you came to the conclusion, but men who care about honor as much as he does will do anything to maintain dignity and face—I doubt he will ever forgive you for how you handled the situation with Dyder and Ilsenila.” He pauses and leans in. “I had told this to your father, and I will tell this to you too: you need to put more care into how you handle the Dornytter family than you do anything else; your personal guard, the city guard, and the whole of the kingdom’s military are run by one family—you are always a single family dinner away from losing your throne and your head. I do not doubt their loyalty, but you must handle affairs with them with the utmost caution.”
?nnywella swallows sharply. He’s right, and she can’t do anything about it. “And that’s why K?spar’s here, isn’t it?”
“Yes. But what we have to do about M?rel is more pressing than what we may have to do about Styd?n; we shall cross that bridge when we get to it. I want you to think about who you could appoint in the meantime. He sits up straight. “I think you should call for K?spar; I want to be informed about this group.”
?nnywella nods in agreement; K?spar had been the one to give her the information, and it would be best to get it unmarred from the source. “Ferran.” She calls for the steward, who should still be just outside the door. “Can you fetch K?spar, please?”
The door creaks open, and the steward pokes his head in. “Certainly... but I assume it’s too early for him to be out and about; do you want me to wake him?”
“Yes; I need him to tell Kolaus what he told me.” She watches Ferran nod as he closes the door.
