Page 2 of Queen’s Gambit

‘A part of the schemata you retrieved was erased. The beeswax reacted to your body heat and caused significant damage.’ He pulled his beard in frustration. At this rate, the habit would leave him bald before the conflict ended. ‘I’m hoping Inga has seen it before and, comparing it to the other fae runes, we can recreate the smudged sigil. It talks of blood as a key… or bloodline. It doesn’t make sense.’

‘Inga is standing right here, you imbecile. Stop talking over my head,’ she snapped. I stood there watching their interaction like a theatrical play.

Tova rolled his eyes. ‘Of course, my lady Tivala. Now, if you could draw the dress rehearsal to a close, this dwarven tinkerer would appreciate it…’ He finished his request with an elaborate bow.

‘Tova, once the Ozar kings arrive, I’ll ask Alaric’va Shen’ra about blood keys. He’s dark fae. He must know something,’ I said, and Tova nodded.

‘Good, send me a message if you find something. This thing is grating on my nerves,’ he said, and I gestured for him to help me with the laces of my corset.

Inga’s face reddened; she shoved him away, tightening the laces so much that I could barely breathe until, under my glare, she loosened them a notch. When she finished, she pushed a simple grey dress trimmed with fur into my hands.

‘We’re done. This will do,’ she said, turning to leave, but I hadn’t finished yet.

‘Your father sent a messenger today.’ My hand instinctively drifted to my cropped hair before it balled into a fist. ‘He’s not coming, and he disinherited you.’

Inga stalled by the door, and Tova shifted towards her, reaching for her hand before he stopped himself.

‘I’m sure he was thrilled writing this.’ She shrugged, swallowing hard. ‘Better this way. And it saves me seeing him flop around like a dying fish after you poison him.’

‘I’m going to kill him. Here or in Tivalaran. He’ll die by my hand.’

Inga nodded, something akin to relief flashing in her eyes. I’d only spent a few days in Tivalaran’s castle; Inga had grown up there. She knew better than I the kind of monster her father was.

‘I hope you do. Still, it’s a shame I won’t be able to spit in his face one last time.’ She snapped her fingers when Tova’s eyebrows rose. ‘You thought I would beg for his life after he turned mine into a living nightmare, Tinkerer? And don’t stand like a tool; we’re going.’

Tova gave me an exasperated look that melted away when she grabbed his hand.

‘You heard the lady,’ I said, enjoying his wounded expression, but it didn’t escape my attention how he straightened in Inga’s presence, trying to appear taller, shoulders squarer. When he posed like this, he was almost as tall as her… which shouldn’t be possible.

My gaze drifted to his boots, and my eyes widened. Tova noticed, and the panic in his eyes halted my teasing remark.

My friend was wearing heels, manly, solid and masked by the cut of his boots, but they were still heels. If trading insults didn’t showcase the stubborn bastard’s interest in Tivala’s daughter, this was a dead giveaway.

‘Update me on what you discover,’ I said, both happy and worried for him.

Disinherited or not, Inga was noble-born, and after I was done with her father, she should be heir to Tivalaran. Would she see him as a genius who stood beside me through many hardships, or would her good graces fade at the first cruel gossip?

My thoughts drifted to his work. Tova’s remark about blood nagged at me. A key… blood as a key. Frustration burned. I’d come to magic too recently, and gaps in my education were now painfully obvious. Riordan or Ciesko might know something, but Ri was helping Rey quietly move the army south, and Ciesko, the chief healer, was in the city infirmary. With only a few hours before the Ozar contingent’s arrival, I wouldn’t be able to see him.

‘Dragon it is,’ I muttered, grabbing my coat.

Cinared was above the city, keeping an eye on the palace and the landing field, ready to alert Reynard of our guests’ arrival, and that suited me perfectly.

I rushed through the private wing that was my new home, only slowing down for the stairs. It was easy to forget I lived in the palace. Our private wing was secured by heavy doors and guards picked for their discretion. No one unauthorised could enter, and only family was granted that privilege.

It was cosy, intimate and ours.

As soon as I emerged, bustling court life hit me in the face.

Courtiers bowed as I passed, ladies curtsied, but as soon as my back was turned, gossip spread like wildfire.

I was the novelty, the low-born criminal who’d tricked her way into the king’s affections—someone they couldn’t measure against their preconceived assumptions. Despite Reynard’s assertions, they refused to see me as the future queen, treating me as his mistress until they remembered my other title… the King’s Shadow.

There were rumours, the latest accusing me of drugging Rey with a love potion. I knew this because several ladies contacted the Brotherhood, offering the Deadly Nightshade a hefty sum to get their hands on the potion. I became the butt of the Brotherhood’s jokes, constantly asked what I used to enchant so many men.

My pace increased. I wanted to escape the palace whilst appearing composed.

‘You’d better be there, you scaly-arsed terror,’ I muttered, entering the landing field.