The flooring in the lobby below was polished and waxed to a high sheen, the expensive wood glowing in the morning sun, but the servants who maintained it were nowhere to be seen, thankfully. Glowshine didn't believe in that sort of thing, servants should be neither seen nor heard. Much like children.
A narrowing of her eyes and a look around as she descended the stairs. The flowers were fresh that morning, the water in their vases nice and clean. The stairs were neat and tidy, with the runner up the centre freshly brushed and the rods polished. Good, she had had to have words about that the last time, she just couldn't abide with laziness when it came to cleaning.
Really, was it so hard to hire good help nowadays?
Passing through the hall and into the morning room, breakfast was already set out for her. Toast, fresh fruit, eggs and a selection of different mushrooms lightly cooked. The tea was steaming in the pot, and the fire was unlit, the windows thrown open to the spring air.
She shut the windows, pulling them closed with annoyance. The breeze was making the food go cold, and she didn't like the thought of insects coming into the house or landing on the eggs. There would be words, later.
With a long-suffering sigh, she sat, poured out the tea and took the first sip of the day.
Perfect. Glowshine closed her eyes and leaned her head back, savouring it for a moment, before placing the cup gently down and seeing to the pile of letters next to her food. The early morning post had come in only a few minutes before, and it was that which had prompted her to get up, the sound of hooves in the courtyard outside.
She shuffled through the pile until she came upon one that was unlike the others. Ah, this was obviously from her brother, lovely. She spent a moment unfolding the letterlock, years of practice making it easy to undo. He must have a new supplier, as the paper was finer than anything he had sent before, and for a moment she almost worried about tearing it.
They had come up with this method of folding letters when they were children, and the shapes had only gotten more intricate over the years. This one was in the form of a fish and barely longer than her finger when she received it, but by the time she had unfolded it, the paper was the size of the page of a large book.
She stood and held the letter up against the window, admiring how the sun shone through the thin paper. She really would have to get the name of his supplier.
Sitting back down at her desk, she smoothed it out and took another sip of tea, beginning to read.
-
By the time she got to the end of the letter, she had finished her tea and sent for another pot, the toast and mushrooms still sitting cold and congealed on the edge of her desk. Her brother's correspondence was normally fairly brief, but this one had been dense, written on both sides, with him even rotating the paper as he ran out of space.
If she hadn't known him, then the cross-writing, combined with the creases and the bleed-through from the other side, would have been almost unreadable, but she managed.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
"The Monarchs are dead." Was the first line, and upon reading it she had closed her eyes for a second. Taking in the impact of that statement.
It was a surprise, but also not a surprise, and Glowshine sighed as she read it again, stirring her tea absentmindedly with one hand, the other holding the letter flat against the desk. The only sound in the room was the quiet clinking of the spoon against the fine porcelain and the ticking of the clock in the corner.
The rest of the words were unnecessary, the letter could have contained just that single line and it would have been enough, but alas, she read on.
She knew that the king and queen had lost their two children several years previous, to either disease or poison, and that their house was dark and shuttered for a time afterwards, but the period of mourning had long since passed, and she had heard gossip that the queen had another child on the way.
She would never know the veracity of those rumours now, as the both of them had been poisoned in their beds, being found far too late to be saved. A shame.
Their home was cursed, said her brother, haunted by rot, the air poisoned and cold with ghosts. Magic had abandoned that place, and already it was starting to fall into ruin, barely a couple of months after the deaths.
Glowshine took a sip of her tea and grimaced. Too much sugar. Being careful not to damage or disturb the letter, she stood and walked over to the window. The air outside was fresh and clean, and she poured the tea out onto the gravel outside.
With a quiet click, she pulled it shut again and returned to her seat.
She brushed the back of her hand against the pot as she sat, and with a shake of her head and a touch to a silent bell, she summoned a servant to bring a fresh pot.
The girl took the cold food while she was at it, collecting the whole lot up with wordless grace, leaving only the bowl of sliced fruit and the fresh tea.
Her brother had been the one to deal with the whole affair, he was the prominent mage in the area, and he had ordered that the house be left to ruin, the animals removed and the servants dismissed. He inquired if she would take in a scullery aid, their references were good, but Glowshine wasn't sure she wanted cursed servants in her house, and penned a quick note of rejection on a fresh piece of paper.
"Dearest brother…"
That done, she carried on reading.
Several of the servants had turned up dead in the weeks since, but neither he nor anyone he knew could say if this indicated a more long-term disease or if it was the poisoner clearing up loose ends, but it didn't matter either way. They had died in the same way, foaming red from the mouth and drowning in their sleep.
Not the worst way to go, she mused, pushing the sugar bowl out of reach but leaving her spoon in the cup. With an inward sigh, she turned the sheet over and carried on reading.
The letter went into further details, but she mostly skimmed those. What it was really about was left unsaid, to be read between the lines.
Without any heirs left, who would inherit the throne?
Would it be assigned by the government, or would it go to the next in line? It was an interesting situation, and she wondered if there would be war over it.
Probably not, but the lack of a clear line of secession meant that it would normally go to… She squinted at the paper and wracked her memory, probably the queen's brother and his partner, or was it her sister and her son?
She would have to look it up later, there was a book in the library she could consult.
For a moment she considered summoning a servant to fetch the book, but quickly dismissed the idea. It would take so long for them to find it, and she didn't have room on her desk for a tome that size anyway. It wasn't important.
She fingered the thin paper, considering how this affected her. If there was a civil war, which was a slight possibility, then it shouldn't be on her side of the continent. That meant there would be friends and relatives all vying to come and hide within the safety of her estate.
She let out a long breath through her nose and stared out of the window, crumpling the paper with pinched fingers. They'd have to air out all the bedrooms in the west wing, and that kitchen expansion couldn't come soon enough. Silently, she thanked for brother for his letter.
She should go and look over her investments, before prices started to rise.