The True Confessions of a Nine-Tailed Fox

Chapter 106: That Spiteful Raccoon Dog

An expression that was definitely surprise flashed across the queen's face.

Just as quickly, it vanished. While her ladies-in-waiting gasped and fluttered their fans, Jullia met Anthea's gaze head-on. "And that is what thou hast come to discuss in the middle of the night? I rather expected something different."

As had I. Although I'd pictured an older version of Lodia – all squirmy awkwardness and eagerness to please – this woman had sat on the throne for quite some time now. Getting rousted out of bed to cope with a crisis involving her own kin didn't faze her.

Or did it?

The slightest tremor ran through her fingers, and her teacup's base struck the polished rosewood tabletop with a little clunk. I supposed that I could have imagined the tremor, and this ungraceful way of handling teacups could have been what passed for royal etiquette these days – but I doubted it. She'd been rattled.

The crucial question was: Rattled how?

Rattled because she'd had no idea what her uncle had run off to do – or rattled because she'd masterminded the scheme but hadn't expected her move against a powerful vassal to be exposed so soon? Since I myself couldn't tell yet, I was curious how the silly raccoon dog pup would deal with the situation.

Not well, was my guess.

Anthea, however, had picked up something in the intervening centuries. She arched a painted eyebrow and matched the queen's silky language. "My liege, what could possibly be of greater importance than one of your vassals acting against Your Majesty's express wishes? Left unchecked, his actions will plunge the kingdom into a civil war that will tear it apart."

Only because I was scrutinizing the queen's face did I pick up on the slight bit her lips tightened. It told me what I needed to know: Jullia didn't want a civil war. She probably couldn't afford one, not when she was squandering her treasury on her father's lost war.

Which, in turn, meant that she hadn't authorized her uncle to attack Lychee Grove.

"A civil war, thou sayest?"

I knew right away that Jullia was trying to extract details without coming out and asking for them, but whether Anthea could tell was an open question.

The raccoon dog clasped her hands in her lap so hard that the knuckles turned white. I didn't think her distress was entirely feigned either. "I fear that civil war is what lies on the horizon, Your Majesty. I have seen it before, what happens when central authority – " She was probably about to say "fails," which wasn't really something you said to a monarch – at least, not if you wanted them to hang on to their temper – but at the last second, she amended it to: "When nobles decide to test their limits."

At the reminder of the disintegration of the Empire, and Anthea's front row seat to the events both preceding and following on the heels of aforementioned disintegration, Jullia stiffened. "The Earl of Black Crag has forgotten what he owes the Crown. Is that what thou sayest?"

Anthea hesitated.

Taking a chance, I fluttered onto her shoulder and, under the guise of preening her hair, whispered, She's fishing. Tell her what he's up to.

Faking a smile, Anthea raised a hand to stroke my back, lifted me off her shoulder, and deposited me back in her lap. I was considering biting her finger when she said, cautiously, "I would never accuse His Grace of such ingratitude, Your Majesty. Perhaps 'tis your uncle's devotion to you that impels him to take such...strong action. Perhaps he has your welfare at heart, and fears that the Lady of Lychee Grove has grown too powerful and hence poses a threat to your authority, should she decide to flex her roots."