"Of course," he said.
"And ask Helda to bring her lists, and start thinking up one of your own."
"I know a lot of good Monseans who can be useful to you."
"That's why I called for you," she said. "While I've been bumbling around these last few months making messes, you've been meeting my people and learning things."
"Lady Queen," he said, "be fair to yourself. I've been creating a conspiracy, while you've been the focused target of one. It's easier to plan than to be planned against, trust me. And from now on, that's what you'll be doing."
HIS WORDS WERE comforting. But it was hard to believe them after he'd gone.
He came back with Teddy, Madlen, Hava, and Helda sooner than she expected. Teddy looked a bit harried, and was also rubbing his behind.
"That was fast," Bitterblue said, motioning to the chairs. "Are you all right, Teddy?"
"Lord Giddon put me on a horse, Lady Queen," said Teddy. "I haven't had much call for horses before this."
"Teddy," said Giddon, "I've told you I'm no longer a lord. Everyone seems determined to forget it."
"My bottom is seizing up," said Teddy glumly.
Bitterblue couldn't explain it, but once again, with people here, everything seemed less hopeless. Perhaps it was the reminder of a world outside this castle, where life ticked along and Teddy's bottom seized up, whether Thiel had jumped off a bridge or not.
"Lady Queen," said Helda, "at the end of this conversation, your worries will be gone."
Well, and that was ridiculous. Everything that worried her came rushing back. "There are a thousand things this conversation won't change," she said.
"What I meant, Lady Queen," said Helda more gently, "is that none of us have any doubt that you'll be able to outfit a fine administration."
"Well," said Bitterblue, trying to believe that. "I have some ideas, so we may as well start talking. Madlen and Hava," she said, "I don't expect you to have strong opinions about how my administration should be run, unless, of course, you want to. I've asked you to join us because you're two of the very few people I trust, and because you both know, or have observed, or have worked with, a lot of people. I need people," Bitterblue said. "There's nothing I need more. Any recommendations any of you have are welcome to me.
"Now," she said, trying not to show how shy she was to speak her ideas aloud. "I would like to add a few new ministries, so that we can have entire, focused teams working on matters that have been grievously neglected. I want to start over from scratch with building a Ministry of Education. And we should have a Ministry of Historical Record, but if we're to continue searching for the truth of what happened, we must be prepared to be gentle and take care with knowledge. We've got to talk more about the best way to do it, don't you think? And what would you all think of a Ministry of Mental Well-being?" she asked. "Has there ever been such a thing? What about a Ministry of Reparations?"
Her friends listened as she talked, and made suggestions, and Bitterblue began to draw charts. It was comforting to write things down; words, arrows, boxes made ideas more solid. I used to have a small list, on a single piece of paper, she thought, of all the things I didn't know. It's hilarious to think it, when this entire kingdom could be an actual-sized map of the things I don't know.
"Should we interview each person downstairs," she asked, "to see where each of their interests and expertise lie?"
"Yes, Lady Queen," said Helda. "Now?"
"Yes, why not?"
"I'm sorry, Lady Queen," said Giddon, "but I've got to go."
Bitterblue shot her eyes to the clock in amazement, unable to believe that Giddon's three hours were up. "Where are you going?"
Giddon directed a sheepish expression at Helda.
"Giddon?" said Bitterblue, now suspicious.
"It's Council business," Helda reassured Bitterblue. "He's not going to do anything to anyone Monsean, Lady Queen."
"Giddon," said Bitterblue reprovingly, "I always tell you the truth."
"I haven't lied!" he protested. "I haven't said a word." And when that didn't lessen Bitterblue's glare, "I'll tell you later. Possibly."
"This phenomenon wherein you always tell Lord Giddon the truth," said Helda to Bitterblue. "Might you consider extending that arrangement to others?"
"I'm not a lord!" said Giddon.
"Could we—" Bitterblue was losing focus. "Giddon, send one of my clerks or guards up on your way out, would you? Anyone who looks equal to an interview."
And so the interviews of her guards and clerks commenced, and Bitterblue found the ideas growing in a way that began to challenge the expediency of paper. Ideas were growing in all directions and dimensions; they were becoming a sculpture, or a castle.
And then everyone left her, to return to their own affairs; and she was alone, and empty and unbelieving again.
RAFFIN, BANN, AND Po came to dinner, late. Bitterblue sat quietly among them, letting their banter wash around her. Helda is never happier than when she has young people to pester, she thought. Especially handsome young men.
Then Giddon showed up, with a report on Saf. "He's bored to pieces and worried about his sister. But he gave me good information about Spook's cave to give to Holt, Lady Queen."
"After Spook and Fox are arrested," Bitterblue said quietly, her first contribution to the evening's conversation, "I wonder if we can let Saf out of the drawbridge tower. It may depend on how much Spook and Fox talk. I still don't feel like I've got a handle on the Monsean Guard just now." I'd feel a lot better if I had the crown. "How did your Council business go, Giddon?"
"I convinced a visiting spy of King Thigpen's not to return to Estill," said Giddon.
"And how did you do that?" asked Bitterblue.
"By—well—let's say, by arranging for him to have a holiday in Lienid," said Giddon.
This was met with a roar of approval. "Well done," said Bann, slapping him on the back.
"Did he want to go to Lienid?" asked Bitterblue, not certain why she bothered.
"Oh, everyone loves Lienid!" cried Po.
"Did you use the nausea infusion?" asked Raffin, pounding the table so hard in his excitement that the silver rattled. When Giddon nodded, the others gave him a standing ovation.
Quietly, Bitterblue took herself to the sofa. It was bedtime, but how was she to be alone in a dark room? How to face her own solitary, shaking self?
If she couldn't have anyone's arms around her as she fell asleep, then she could have the voices of these friends. She would wrap the voices around her and it would be like Saf's arms; it would be like Katsa's arms when they'd slept on the frozen mountain. Katsa. How acutely she missed Katsa. How acutely sometimes the presence or absence of people mattered. She would have fought Po tonight for Katsa's arms.
Of course, she'd forgotten that there might be a dream.
She dreamed that she was walking from rooftop to rooftop in Bitterblue City. She was walking on the castle roof. She was walking on the edges of the parapets of the glass roof of her castle tower, and she could see everything all at once, the buildings of her city, the bridges, the people trying to be strong. The sun warmed her, a breeze cooled her, and there was no pain, and she wasn't afraid to be standing at the top of the world.
41
IN THE MORNING, she woke to the news that Darby had hanged himself in his prison cell.
In her bedroom doorway, in her shift, Bitterblue fought against Helda, who was trying to take hold of her. She shouted, yelling abuse at Darby, yelling abuse at the Monsean Guard who'd let it happen, wild, savage in her grief in a way that seemed actually to frighten Helda, who stopped reaching for her and merely stood, quiet and tight-lipped. When Po arrived and Bitterblue transferred her yelling to him, he wrapped his arms around her even though she hit and kicked him. Caught her hard when she reached for one of her knives. Held her tighter and pulled her to the floor, wedged with her in the doorway, forcing her to be still. "I hate you," she yelled. "I hate him. I hate all of them!" she cried, and finally, her voice worn to exhaustion, gave up fighting and began to sob. "It's my fault," she sobbed in Po's arms. "It's my fault."