The Snow Queen's Shadow

Montgomery wishes to meet with you and the prince tonight to discuss an extension of tax relief for the coastal towns.”
    “Tonight?” Danielle shook her head in disbelief. “Elaine, do I look like the Royal Treasurer?”
    Elaine flushed. “No, Your Highness.”
    Danielle yanked off the crown and rubbed her forehead. “I’m sorry. Please go on.”
    “Lord Montgomery said, since the tax exemption was given to help the towns recover from the merfolk’s attack, and since you knew the situation better than most . . .” Elaine took a step back, like a rabbit preparing to bolt.
    “Please tell Montgomery that he can take his petition and—” No. A funeral should be an opportunity for friends and family to comfort one another and remember the one they had lost. Not a time for political squabbling.
    Heather cleared her throat. “Your Highness, it occurs to me that most of Lord Montgomery’s fortunes come through trade and fishing.”
    “That’s true,” said John. “I wonder what would happen if someone were to warn the fish to avoid his waters.”
    Heather tilted her head. “Or simply send rats to warm his bed?”
    Danielle fought a smile. “I can see why you married her,” she said to John. “How long did you search to find a woman as evil-minded as yourself?”
    “Forty years,” said John. “And it was worth every one.”
    To Elaine, she said, “Please tell Lord Montgomery I would be happy to consider his request. Please also inform him that we will need to conduct an audit of his finances to determine his needs. A thorough audit, including all shipping logs and cargo manifests.”
    “Yes, Your Highness.” Elaine bowed again and disappeared.
    “You suspect him of padding his treasury?” John’s words were playful, but there was a glint in his eye that gave Danielle pause. No matter how friendly John and Heather might be, they were also nobles of Lorindar, with their own agendas.
    “No,” Danielle said. “Lord Montgomery can be . . . difficult, but he’s never struck me as dishonest. His men, on the other hand?” She shrugged. “Who can say? If I’m fortunate, this will keep him busy reviewing his own affairs to make certain there’s nothing for us to find. And John?”
    He raised an eyebrow.
    “I know you. If you sneak alum into Montgomery’s food like you did with Bette Garnier that time—”
    “You have my word,” John said. “Though Montgomery would be hard-pressed to voice his complaint with his mouth pickled shut.”
    “What about a nice senna seed tea instead?” offered Heather. “He’ll have to bring a chamber pot to any meetings.”
    “Leave the man in peace. That’s an order from your princess.”
    John was the only person she knew who could convey laughter with a simple bow. As the two of them left, Danielle heard Heather saying, “ We have to leave him alone, but what if a third party were to sneak in and coat his codpiece with lard?”
    Danielle met with three other noble families before finally escaping at midday. She grabbed a quick meal from the kitchen and made her way to the chapel, where Beatrice’s body had been laid out in preparation for the funeral.
    Honor guards stood to either side of the entrance. Danielle greeted them in passing and ducked inside. Sunlight shone through the stained glass windows at the tops of the walls. The air smelled of incense, a mixture of lavender and cypress, which rose from silver thuribles, incense burners suspended from the ceiling behind the altar.
    At the front of the church, Queen Beatrice’s body rested upon a waist-high platform to the right of the altar. Her hair had been left loose, framing her face in gray. She wore a formal blue gown, and her gold crown rested upon her chest.
    Danielle wiped her face. Beatrice never wore her crown when she could avoid it. She had always been happier in a sailor’s jacket, her hair catching the ocean winds. It was as though an imposter lay in Beatrice’s place, as if this were all some cruel jest.
    Armand and Jakob stood beside the body, talking to Father Isaac. Jakob looked like a miniature version of his father. Both wore tailored black jackets, dark trousers, and polished boots. But where Jakob was sniffling and wiping his nose on his sleeve, Armand’s face was stone.
    “She looks so fragile.” Danielle scooped Jakob into her arms. Loose threads hung like the legs of an insect where he had managed to lose the top button of his jacket. His small fingers gripped