of the closet, a pair of socks clenched between my teeth, to see if he’d heard me. There, lounging on the settee at the end of my bed, was my cousin Claes, with two enormous, steaming mugs in his hands and a grin lighting his gorgeous face. He, apparently, hadn’t infuriated his butler, and was turned out in perfectly fitted navy trousers and a fine ivory sweater. The smattering of freckles across his high cheekbones stood out against his fawn skin more than usual, and there was a playful light in his angular black eyes.
“Good morning, dearest,” he said, and crossed the room to hand me a mug and plant a kiss on my cheek.
I took a grateful sip, all the bitterness of the kaffe disguised by honey and cream. Claes knew me so well.
“Thank you. I’m afraid I may have annoyed Gunnar last night. All he’s left me is that hideous mauve monstrosity, and I have to be in the throne room in twenty minutes. Do you think these will do?”
Claes looked down at the clothes I’d plucked out of the wardrobe, and his perfectly groomed black eyebrows climbed his forehead. He swept the clothes out of my arms and brushed past me into the closet.
“I swear, Bo, it’s as if you’ve never dressed yourself. Do you pay absolutely no attention to what’s fashionable?”
Ten minutes later, I was respectably garbed in a pair of gray trousers, a pale orange sweater knitted from soft Denorian wool and a long charcoal jacket. I stuffed a cloud bun filled with smoked bacon and caramelized onions into my mouth as I rushed through the palace halls to the throne room. I arrived with only a moment to spare and ran a hand experimentally through my riot of dark brown curls. I had no doubt that I looked a disaster, but there was nothing to be done about it now.
“Am I a total embarrassment?”
Claes smiled and drew me close in a warm embrace. “You’re as princely as they come, my dear. Now go impress old Queenie with your vast intellect. I’m off to gather gossip from the maids. I hear that Lisette has taken a new lover, and I plan to learn who it is before your birthday invitations are sent.”
Claes leaned in and kissed me, and I did my best to ignore the guards by the throne room door, who were covering their chuckling with coughs and exaggerated shifting of their weapons. It wasn’t as though my relationship with Claes was a secret, but his public displays of affection drew more attention to us than I liked. Claes pulled away first, his implacable grin already in place as he winked at a guard over my shoulder.
“I’ll see you tonight?” I asked.
“Of course. We’ve got to finalize the guest list, and I do believe that my dear sister has a whole collection of people she’s planning to chastise and flatter with this event alone.”
I sighed. It didn’t matter that I’d been preparing myself to take the throne for most of my life: I would never get used to the social machinations and deceptions required by a life at court. They simply didn’t come as naturally to me as they did to the other singleborn. Even my cousins, Penelope and Claes, had adapted much more easily to court intrigue than I ever had.
Claes brushed a bit of invisible dust off my shoulder.
“You worry about running the empire, my dear. Penelope and I’ll be the ones to get our hands dirty controlling the nobility. Now scoot. You’re going to be late.”
Claes planted a final kiss on my cheek and nodded to the guards. When they opened the door, I was as ready as I could be.
Like the Queen, I entered the throne room not through the wide doors that the petitioners would use throughout the day, but via a small side door in the back. The Alskad throne loomed large on the dais. According to legend, it had been hewn from the upturned roots of an enormous tree, and the tangle of roots that fanned out over the head of the monarch reflected the Alskad crown they wore. The whole thing had been polished and waxed and varnished so often over the years, the wood had turned a glowing deep brown, almost black.
I rounded the dais and saw that the Queen was already seated on a pile of furs draped over the wide throne. Her eyes flickered to the clock in the corner of the room when she saw me, and her mouth turned down in disapproval.
“You’re late, Bo.”
I squinted at the clock. It was thirty seconds past the agreed-upon time.
“My most sincere apologies, Your Majesty.”
The Queen crinkled her sharp nose and adjusted the crown of Alskad atop her graying hair. She was an intimidating woman, with skin that never lost its light brown glow, iron-gray hair and a habit of wearing wide-shouldered capes that made her body look nearly square. She was said to have been shockingly beautiful in her youth, though age had left her more arresting than lovely.
“You’ll need a chair. These things tend to last for hours and hours, and you’ll not want to be standing the whole time.” She pointed at a cluster of chairs in an alcove between two sets of large casement windows. “Drag one of those over. Not the blue one. The cushion’s as thin as a sheet—you’ll be sitting on nails all day.”
Three guards tried to take the chair from me as I crossed the room, but I waved them all off with a smile.
“You lot leave him be. He’s a brawny young thing.” Queen Runa laughed. “No need to start coddling him until he’s actually the crown prince.”
I felt a flicker of unease at the implication, and—as if they could sense my discomfort—Patrise and Lisette swanned into the throne room, alight with jewels and draped in brightly dyed silks and furs. Though it was well known throughout the empire that I would soon be named Runa’s heir, Lisette and Patrise nevertheless took every opportunity to remind me that they, too, were singleborn and eligible for the throne. Of all the singleborn in my generation, only Rylain, my father’s cousin, refused to play this game, and I was forever grateful to her for that generosity of spirit.
Runa raised an eyebrow, and Patrise and Lisette bowed deeply.
“Sorry to be late, Your Majesty,” Patrise drawled, his voice all lazy vowels and grandeur. “We were doing our best to decide what to get our Ambrose for his birthday.”
“I wanted to get him a pony,” Lisette said, pouting, “but Patrise insists that little Ambrose is far too mature for such things.”
“A set of knives, perhaps, to protect him from his many enemies,” Patrise said. “But we wouldn’t want him to prick himself accidentally, now would we?”
“Enough,” Runa snapped.
Patrise and Lisette collapsed into each other, giggling. I settled my chair on the dais, a step behind the throne on Runa’s right, and glared at Patrise and Lisette as they waved for guards to bring chairs for them, as well.
The Queen turned to me, her tone low, but firm. “Ignore them. They only enjoy baiting you because you give them a reaction. If you are to lead, you’ll have to learn to rise above the petty antics they use to entertain themselves.”
I nodded, but a voice in the back of my head wondered how she could speak about the rivalries between the singleborn so lightly, when they were so often punctuated by assassination attempts.
Runa continued. “I hope that you and I will have many more years to prepare you for taking the helm of this empire. But if there is one thing I’d ask you to keep in mind from the very beginning, it’s that we, as monarchs,
