Wulfyddia (The Tattersall Trilogy Book 1) by Steele Alexandra

dungeons was actually
speaking the truth. Her gaze drifted over the heads of her courtiers, fixing on
the stained glass window opposite her and the delicately shaded light that
filtered through, staining the air in pastels. Even Dimity, right hand of the
Queen, could not tell what was running through her grandmother’s mind at that
moment, and she shifted uneasily. Nine days out of ten she was secure in her
place as her grandmother’s pet, but on the tenth, she trembled.
    Shaking off her reverie, the Queen’s gaze
snapped back to the unfortunate, deranged Rathbone and the royal guards. An
admission of her error was unthinkable, and for a moment she was split between
executing him just to keep things tidy, and making a great show of clemency and
releasing him. Clemency wasn’t quite her style, but the Castle executioner was overbooked
as it was. “He’s a physician, you say?”
    Arthur bowed quite low, “yes, my Queen.”
    The Queen sighed. “Very well,” she said quite
loudly, not about to miss this opportunity to make much of her rare mercy. “We
are in need of more physicians within the Castle. This young man may well serve
the crown better acting in his capacity as a physician, than wasting away
behind bars.”  Arthur’s eyebrows quirked upwards unexpectedly, and a hushed
murmur traveled through the spectators. Pardons were much more exciting than
punishments. They saw punishments all day every day.
    “Despite the gravity of his crime— Malicious
loitering is not to be taken lightly— in this instance, it pleases me that he
be freed and released to take up his trade. This is, after all, what is best
for my subjects: another Doctor for the Castle.”
    In the audience, a few of her subjects
glanced at each other doubtfully. It was hard to imagine an emergency dire
enough for them to turn to the lunatic on the stand for medical care. Regardless,
the Queen had made up her mind, and before he knew what was happening to him,
Rathbone was being escorted to the wide doors of the courtroom, and the
unexpected daylight seared his eyes.
    In the row reserved for the royal family, Lorna
Lucretius watched Rathbone exit the courtroom with the utmost fascination. She
had seen all manner of men pretend to be insane in hopes of escaping the noose,
but the bit about the beast was a particularly inventive touch. There had even
been a moment when the Queen herself had looked taken aback, and that was
difficult to achieve. It had been a particular stroke of genius, adding mention
of the beast. Rathbone must have heard the gossip about that old dungeon. Local
folklore told of a beast that had once stalked the darkness, but no one had
claimed a sighting in decades.
    The Queen sighed. “Who next?”
    Arthur bowed. “The Librarian, madam.”
    The Queen tsked impatiently. “Again? Show him
in at once.”
    Lorna could tell from the set of her
grandmother’s shoulders that the woman was nearing the end of her patience with
the Librarian, and she wondered what the dotty old man had done to try the
Queen so. He seemed a largely inoffensive creature. As he hobbled into the
room, Lorna yawned and settled into her seat, fully prepared to be bored out of
her mind while the old man discussed some new cataloguing system, or perhaps an
infestation of insects. She could still remember how irascible he had become
during the paper louse infestation of the summer before last. Lorna stifled a
giggle at the memory of the paper lice. Dimity shot her a warning glance, but
it was the way her stiff-necked grandmother turned and blinked coldly at her
that chilled her to the bone. She pressed her lips together and sat back in her
seat to listen, hardly expecting to be moved by anything the old man had to say.
But as the Librarian restated his complaint, reporting in exact detail the
circumstances of the theft of a book from the royal archives, Lorna felt the
blood drain from her face.
    ***
    The
Haligorn was perhaps least eerie at midday, when the bustle