Kelsea’s instincts had been right. When she finally finished her soup and set down her spoon, the Holy Father pounced.
“Majesty, at the request of my congregation, I must bring up several unpleasant matters.”
“Your congregation? You still give sermons?”
“All of humanity is my congregation.”
“Even those who want no part of it?”
“Those who want no part of God’s kingdom are the most in need, Majesty.”
“What’s the first unpleasant matter?”
“The destruction of the Graham castle some months ago.”
“I understand it was gutted by an accidental fire.”
“Many of my congregation believe that fire to be no accident, Majesty. Indeed, the prevailing belief is that the fire was set by one of your own guards.”
“Prevailing belief is very convenient. Have you any proof?”
“I do.”
Kelsea drew a sharp breath. Mace, on her right, had frozen, but the Holy Father only continued to stare blandly at Kelsea; he seemed to have no fear of Mace at all. Kelsea considered asking the Holy Father to produce his proof, but discarded the idea. If he really did have something linking Mace to the fire, there was nowhere else to go. She shifted ground.
“An assassination attempt on the Queen is treachery. I believe the common law states that treachery renders the traitor’s lands forfeit.”
“So it does.”
“Lord Graham put a knife to my throat, Your Holiness. Even in the unlikely event that one of my Guard was involved with that fire, his property was mine to burn.”
“But not the people inside, Majesty.”
“If they were on my property, they were trespassing.”
“But your ownership of that property depends entirely on your own accusations of treachery.”
“My accusations,” Kelsea repeated. “What else would you call Lord Graham’s actions?”
“I don’t know, Majesty. As you say, there’s so little proof. What do we know? Only that you had a young, attractive lord in your chamber in the early evening, and you killed him.”
Kelsea’s mouth dropped open.
“Perhaps you had your eye on his lands all along.”
Pen pushed back from the table, but Kelsea grabbed his arm and whispered, “No.”
“Lady—”
“Do nothing.” Meeting Pen’s gaze was a mistake; in that moment, Kelsea seemed to live her humiliation all over again. This was her oldest friend, the guard who had been kind to her long before any of the others, but all Kelsea could see was the man who had turned her down. How could they ever get back to where they had been before? She turned back to the Holy Father and found him watching her and Pen with an interested gaze.
“So this is the story your priests tell from the pulpit, Your Holiness? Young Lord Graham was a victim of my wanton sexuality?”
Elston and Dyer began sniggering.
“Majesty, you misunderstand me. I am only a mouthpiece for my congregation’s concerns.”
“I thought you were the mouthpiece for God.”
The shorter acolyte gasped.
“Such a statement would be blasphemous, Majesty,” the Holy Father replied, his tone gently reproving. “No man can speak for God.”
“I see.”
She didn’t see, but at least she had gotten him off the subject of Mace and the fire. Milla took the pause in conversation as an opportunity to bring the main course: roast chicken with potatoes. Kelsea snuck a glance at Pen and found him staring with cold fury at the Holy Father. All of her Guard were angry now, even Mace, whose mouth had tightened. Kelsea tapped her nails on the table, and they returned their attention to the food, though some of them appeared to have difficulty swallowing.
“Have you heard the reports from the Fairwitch, Majesty?” the Holy Father asked.
“I have. Children disappearing and some invisible murderer that stalks in the night.”
“How do you plan to address the matter?”
“Difficult to say, until I get some hard evidence of what’s going on.”
“While you wait, Majesty, the problem grows worse. Cardinal Penney tells me that several families have disappeared in the foothills. The Cardinal himself has seen dark shadows in the night around his castle. It’s the devil’s work, for certain.”
“And how would you suggest that I fight the devil?”
“Prayer, Majesty. Devotion. Have you never considered that this might be God’s vengeance on the Tearling?”
“For what?”
“For laxity of faith. For backsliding.”
Father Tyler dropped his fork. It hit the ground with a clatter, and he crawled under the table to retrieve it.
“Prayer will not save us from a serial killer, Your Holiness.”
“Then what will?”
“Action. Judicious action, taken after all the consequences are weighed.”
“Your faith is weak, Majesty.”
Kelsea put down her fork. “You will not goad me.”
“I had no thought to goad, only to offer spiritual advice. Many of your actions subvert God’s will.”
Kelsea saw where this was going now, and she leaned her chin on both hands. “Do tell, Your Holiness.”
The Holy Father raised his eyebrows. “You wish me to list your transgressions?”
“Why not?”
“Fine, Majesty. I will. Three heretics and two homosexuals were in Crown custody at the start of your reign, and you have freed them all. Worse, you tolerate open homosexuality in your own Guard.”
What was this? Kelsea fought down the urge to look at Mace, or at any other member of her Guard. She had never heard a whisper of any such thing.
“Your own failure to marry sets a terrible example for young women everywhere. I have heard speculation that you may have homosexual sympathies yourself.”
“Indeed, Your Holiness, the sexual freedom of consenting adults is the greatest threat this kingdom has ever faced,” Kelsea replied acidly. “God knows how we’ve lasted so long.”
The Holy Father was not derailed. “And most recently, Majesty, I have been informed that you mean to tax the Arvath, like any secular body, on its landholdings. But surely this must be a mistake.”
“Ah, so we finally come to it. No mistake, Your Holiness. God’s Church is a landholder like any other. Beginning in February, I will expect monthly payments on all of your property.”
“The Church has always been exempt from taxation, Majesty, all the way back to David Raleigh. The exemption encourages good works and selflessness on the part of our brothers.”
“You reap profit from your land, Your Holiness, and despite your mandate, you’re not a charitable institution. I don’t see the vast bulk of your income flowing back to the public.”
“We distribute bread to the poor, Majesty!”
“Well done. Saint Simone herself could hardly do more.” Kelsea leaned forward, trying to soften the edge in her voice. “However, since you bring up the point, I have an offer for you.”
“What is that?”
“If my estimates are correct, by the end of July, most of the Tearling will be housed at the Caddell Camp outside the walls. When the Mort come, all of the displaced will need to be brought into the city.”
“That will make New London terribly crowded, Majesty.”
“Indeed, and since you claim to be a charitable institution, I thought you could show some of that Christian spirit by providing food and housing as well.”
“Housing?”
“I will be opening the Keep to refugees, but you have the second largest building in New London, Your Holiness. Nine floors, and I’m told that only two of them are actually used for housing.”