Cold, I Sipped the Snow

Chapter 2: The Daughter

I was still holding the king's note when the doors opened at noon.

Cora entered without a crown or a veil. She wore a dark blue traveling dress with mud along its hem, and her hair was pinned back in a way I remembered from her girlhood. I had once ordered her to cut it short because the court said it made her look too much like her dead mother. She had looked at me then and asked whether the court had also ordered me to become cruel.

I had not answered.

Rusk walked at her side, not in front of her. I noticed that. He wanted the council to see that he wasn't dragging her into the room. He wanted them to believe she had chosen to come.

Cora stopped on the floor below me. Her gaze moved from my face to the chain.

"Did they hurt you?" she asked.

"Only my pride."

"You should be used to that."

The councilors shifted. Rusk remained still.

I considered saying something sharp enough to reclaim the room. Instead, I said, "You look well."

"I had a long journey and a short welcome."

She had been living at St. Orra's Abbey, a place I had chosen because its walls were high and its abbess was loyal to the Crown. I had told myself it was for Cora's safety. I had also known she was old enough to gather support if she remained near the capital.

"I'm sorry," I said.

Her expression didn't soften. "For which part?"

There were too many answers. "For sending you away."

"You signed the order."

"I did."

"And you let the king tell everyone I was ill."

"I did."

"Then you're sorry now that it has become useful to say so."

I had no defense that would not sound like another excuse. Rusk leaned against the council table, watching us.

Cora looked at the charter. "They say the council will decide whether I'm crowned."

"The charter says that," I replied.

"And you know the charter."

"I approved it."

"Of course you did."

The king had drafted the first version. I had revised it after his illness worsened, when the council started asking what would happen if he died without naming a successor. I'd added the twenty-one-day limit. At the time, I had assumed I would control the council long enough to secure the Crown for whoever best served the kingdom.

I had never expected to be the person chained to the throne.

Cora looked over her shoulder at Rusk. "You said the council would hear me."

"It will," he said.

"Then I want to know what happened to my father."

The council went quiet.

Rusk answered before I could. "The physician says his heart failed."

"Which physician?"

"Dr. Pell."

Cora's eyes came back to me. I pressed my thumb against the folded note in my palm. Ask who chose the physician.

"Dr. Pell treated him for years," I said.

"Was he in the room when Father died?"

"I don't know."

"You were his queen."

"I was in the west wing."

Rusk stepped toward her. "We can look into the physician's account. Today is for succession."

"And if the physician's account is false?"

"We'll find out."

"You expect me to trust you?"

"No," he said. "I expect you to ask questions."

That answer was better than I wanted it to be.

Cora faced the council. "I won't accept the Crown today. I want the king's physician questioned, and I want a full account of the last week of his life."

Harlan glanced at Rusk. "The succession timetable is short."

"Then begin now," Cora said.

Her voice didn't shake. I had expected to see the girl I had sent away. Instead, I saw a woman who had learned to make people listen without first asking permission.

Rusk nodded once. "I'll arrange the inquiry."

"You'll arrange the questions you're willing to answer," I said.

The marshal's gaze sharpened. "You're not helping."

"I'm not trying to."

Cora stepped toward the throne. The chain had been removed from my wrist, but two guards stood between us. She stopped at the edge of the dais.

"Do you still have the royal seal?" she asked.

"No."

"Did you give it to him?"

"I never had it. Your father kept it in the old registry."

Rusk spoke from behind her. "The seal is accounted for."

"Then why did you ask me?" I said.

"I wanted to hear whether you would lie."

I smiled without humor. "I'm sure you did."

Cora looked toward the council table. "I want to see the registry."

"The archive is under guard," Rusk said. "You can go tomorrow."

"Today."

"Lady Cora, the palace is still being secured."

"My father is dead. I'm not going to wait politely while other people decide what I'm allowed to see."

For a moment, I almost reached for her. I wanted to tell her that the first act of power was deciding which battles could be won. I had taught myself that lesson and used it to justify years of small cruelties.

So I kept my hands at my sides.

Rusk gave an order to the nearest guard. "Take Lady Cora to the registry."

"And the queen?" she asked.

"She stays here."

Cora looked at me. "Did you know he would die?"

"No."

"Did you want him to?"

I could have said that everyone wanted an end to Alaric's suffering. I could have said that I loved him, though love had never made me brave enough to oppose him when it mattered.

"I wanted him to stop hurting people," I said. "I didn't want him dead."

"That isn't the same as wishing he would live."

"No," I said. "It isn't."

She held my gaze for one long second, then followed the guard out.

Rusk stayed behind.

"You could have given her an easier answer," he said.

"I've given her enough easy answers."

He approached the dais. "That's new."

"It's not useful. It's just true."

He glanced at my closed hand. I did not move.

"I'll have the room searched," he said.

"For what?"

"Anything you think I shouldn't find."

When the guards came, they searched my clothes, the seat beneath me, and the empty ring where the chain had been fastened. The paper remained folded in my palm.

I learned long ago that a secret was safest when everyone knew you had one.