blood—gently upon her head.
30
As expected, Lilac spent her first week as queen in and out of meetings. Simple matters of formality, these were not the meaningful negotiations she’d once imagined; instead, there were brief—but many—introductory meetings with foreign ambassadors and representatives of allied kingdoms, including their wary French neighbors. Swanky sultan or mustache-twidling king, all seemed a tad too eager to meet the brand new and alarmingly progressive queen of Brittany.
Saved by the grace of happenstance, the Le Tallecs were banished indefinitely to their Paimpont estate. After the ceremony, it was discovered that, along with the unfortunate kitchen blaze in which the remainder of the season’s wood stash had perished, the dungeon was partially in ruins due to another spontaneous inferno. These conditions were apparently unsuitable for Sinclair to remain in for observation under physicians’ watch. For the sake of tending to the most pressing matters at hand, Lilac temporarily allowed Armand to remain head of the armed forces while she settled into her new position. Sinclair, however, was stripped of his title as Marquis—along with any hope of taking his father’s place.
Otherwise, the only other immediate concern plaguing her kingdom involved two runaway prisoners who’d escaped from the dungeon—a young man and woman—after the fire had engulfed the lower cells on coronation morning. Posters were distributed by the town criers of Paimpont, Rennes, and the other surrounding villages. Lilac gladly obliged in allowing the guards to stick a few on the castle interior, especially after noting that the caricatures of those in question looked mysteriously nothing like Garin or Ophelia, whatsoever.
By the end of the week, she decided she would consult with her advisors on how to tactfully announce the lifting of her father’s law—or resumption of her grandfather’s law, depending on how one looked at it—leading into the uncomfortable discussion with the topic of Laurent’s death. She’d initially intended to approach them about it right away; however, upon further reconsideration, she realized it might benefit her to consult the Darklings about it first. If Kestrel had been right about one thing, it was that the general human populace did not often appreciate surprises that failed to benefit them directly. For the time being, she would develop her plans in private until the time came to act upon them.
She did, however, take Friday morning to request for several bushels of the finest buckwheat and rye to be deposited in her room. The Fair Folk would be watching from the shadows, after all, and she preferred them to know she fully intended to make good on her promises to the Brocéliande community, first starting with the porridge-loving korrigans.
Surviving the first week of meetings on minimal sleep and copious amounts of tea, Lilac wasted no time when Friday evening rolled around. The mere notion of a birthday supper or coronation feast frankly horrified her, so she shot down her mother’s half-pleaded requests immediately. Once she managed to convince her parents to let her be, and after proving she wasn’t ill, with child, or transformed into a Darkling herself, she promised she’d be ready to discuss her business in Brocéliande soon enough, and simply required rest.
Lilac darted up the staircase fast as her aching legs would allow, a hefty bundle of pastries from the kitchen in hand. Once in her room, she finger-brushed her braids until all the hair pins clattered onto the floor and bathed quickly before donning a fluffy white robe. Knowing her next task entailed organizing meetings with the forest representatives and informing the royal council of her goals without causing a complete uproar, she found the confines of her tower more comforting than usual.
Following her ceremony, Garin had been swept away by the crowd of attendees swarming into the entrance hall to congratulate her. The last she saw of him, he’d been chatting jovially, hood pulled up, with a couple of clergymen from the audience. Vampires, she’d thought to herself in disbelief. It made sense for them to be experts at working even the most scrutinous of crowds. Or maybe that was just Garin. Whatever lies he’d fed them, they devoured right out of his palm—even if it made no sense that a gentleman as young as he had somehow proven qualified to exist in the priesthood… much less ordain the new monarch.
Lilac was on her third coffee cake when a set of knocks rapped at the door. She groaned mid-bite, hurriedly yanking her robe strings taught. A flurry of crumbs tumbled off her chest as she untangled