"Let me see," Lyra hissed through gritted teeth. The soldier handed her the offending platter which Lyra sniffed. Then, to the soldier's horror, the Queen of Valhym licked one of the strawberries.

Lyra spat. "Definitely poison. A strong one too." Her sharp gaze turned to the trembling cook bound at the foot of her throne. "You claim to have no knowledge of this?"

"No, my queen! I merely assembled the plate. I have no idea how the poison got there! I swear to the gods, I had no idea."

Lyra handed the plate back to the soldier and leaned down at the terrified man grovelling on the floor. "If you knew about it, it'd be treason. Since you didn't, it's negligence. Either way you're an accessory to a threat on the princess's life."

She waved and the wailing chef was dragged away. Lyra stood and the court shuffled around her. She beckoned the new court mage, a young weasley man named Corvin, the steward Gunthry, and General Arvid into the war room. Sitting in the chair at the head on the table, she tapped her fingers against it irritated. "This is the third attempt on Fiona's life this month. I expect something to be done."

Arvid nodded. "No doubt Soli doing."

"Or Duskar, or Aryi, or even one of our own," Lyra said sharply. "We are at a critical point in the war. I am needed at our borders. We must—"

The door opened and King Eirik burst through, his eyebrows drawn. "Is it true? There was another assassination attempt on Fiona?"

Lyra's eyes narrowed, not pleased with the interruption. "Yes, poison this time. Luckily the taster served her use."

Eirik frowned, he hadn't approved of the position but now Lyra took satisfaction at his mixed relief and horror. Her husband sat at the table. "This has to stop."

"Agreed. She's the heir and, as I've said before, I don't intend on having another." Lyra grimaced. Worst nine months of her life. "Her death would fuel the dissatisfaction of the people and encourage the Jarls against us. It's taken years to raise this crown above their petty infighting and I will not let anything give them cause to think us weak."

"Perhaps if you took her with you..." Eirik began but then petered out as Lyra glared at him, her fingers stooping to form claws on the tabletop.

"Perhaps, dear husband, you cannot be trusted with even the simple task of protecting your own daughter." Her words were like ice and Eirik flushed with anger and shame. Of course she knew he blamed himself much more than she did.

Gunthry coughed, aware how volatile his monarchs were. "Is there not someplace the princess can go where she can be less...easily located?"

Eirik looked at the man alarmed. "We can't send her away, this is her home."

"She is not safe here," Lyra snapped, "surely that is the more important thing."

Eirik bit his tongue and nodded as Lyra stared at the map on the table. He knew his wife well enough to tell when a plan was forming in her conniving brain. After a pause, she looked up from the map, her green eyes flashing.

"Corvin, Arvid, I want you to put your heads together and think of the best way to transport the princess without alerting our enemies. Gunthry, find a new cook and do a thorough background check."

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The three men nodded and as they turned to leave, their queen's voice went sharp as the dozen blades it was well known she always had within finger's reach. "And if her departure is found out, I will assume one of you is a traitor and personally find out who."

Arvid gave an offended frown, Gunthry went pale as did Corvin although his thin smile didn't waver. After the men departed, Lyra turned her accusing emerald eyes to her husband. "Where were you this morning?"

"I was seeing to the courts as I always am at this time."

Lyra eyed him suspiciously. "And Fiona?"

"With Vai and her maids as she always is before breakfast. Honestly Lyra, if you are concerned for your daughter, you don't have to hide—"

"The poison comes from a plant that only grows in the southern parts of Valhym. I've used it myself before, its effects are quite gruesome. It could mean an insurgence or foreign powers trying to make it look like an insurgence."

Lyra ran one finger south to north over her country. "Doesn't matter which. An investigation and fuss would do more damage than the failed attempt. My money is on an inside attack though. The foreign powers know me too well to think this would shake me."

Eirik crossed his arms. Lyra was impossible to reason with at the best of times and she clearly was annoyed with the whole situation. It was better to let her have her control until she calmed down.

"So what are you planning?" he asked.

"Gunthry was right, she must be moved. She's too exposed at the palace where we can't track every coming and going. Killing her is the most obvious way to hurt the power balance of Valhym and everyone knows our greatest weakness is infighting."

"Where would she be safe? Hjor?"

Lyra shook her head, snorting, "Harold is loyal but he's not powerful enough to protect Fiona. We need somewhere hidden and someone powerful."

Her finger trailed up, crossing the border and into the Solis Empire. Eirik stared at where the queen's nail rested, a valley in northern Solis. Who could possibly...?

The king gasped. "You can't be serious? From everything you've said, he's more of a threat than anything."

Lyra grinned. "He is. But he's also gone soft. Fenrin has never had much ambition and from what I've gathered he seemed quite content in his little valley. Even if he's taken up farming or sheep herding or whatever the hell they do there, he's still my father's son and a better protector than anyone in Valhym."

Eirik shook his head horrified. "No. He'll probably kill her to spite you. You would—given such a chance." Lyra narrowed her eyes, but Eirik gathered the courage to press on. "I will not throw my daughter to the Wolf."

Lyra stood and Eirik flinched.

"You will do as you're told,” she hissed. "I've given you a lot of freedom with the girl but you could not protect her. If her father is too weak, the least he can do is let her uncle take up the slack."

"Lyra, please! We can take her to Hjor, send a private guard—"

"This is my decision. Be grateful I even bothered to tell you. The girl goes to Fenrin until I deem it safe for her to return. Any other words from you and she'll leave this afternoon before your time with her."

Eirik closed his eyes, fighting the wave of nausea choking up his throat. He knew a losing battle when he saw it. He'd been fighting one since Lyra had first laid eyes on him...but when Fiona was born, he'd finally found someone else to fight for.

"You win, but let Vai go with her. For any love you have in your black heart or for the years I've done your every whim, don't send her alone. Send Vai with her."

He opened his eyes, fighting tears, knowing they would draw disgust and not pity. Lyra considered. For a moment her cold expression changed. Her husband was offering every sliver of happiness he had, a father who wanted to be with his daughter. It stirred old wounds, dusty black boxes she'd long forgotten the keys for.

"Fine. I will assume Arvid and Corvin will have a sufficient plan by the end of the week. There will be little warning before she leaves, it'd be too risky otherwise. Do not speak of it until I tell you."

Lyra walked around the table and left, without another glance at her husband. Eirik's shoulders shook and he leaned onto the table, a hand clasped over his sobs.