“Your majesty.” Her voice came out quieter than she had intended. Amaris rose to her feet, watching the reevers on either side mimic her actions as they straightened their postures. She lightly cleared her throat and summoned her courage. She locked eyes with the queen of Farehold as she said, “Your highness, I am Amaris of Uaimh Reev, and these are my reever companions, Ash and Malik. As you know, the reev has only served to keep peace. That is why we seek an audience with you today.”

The queen made an unimpressed face. She was the perfect picture of inconvenienced boredom. She clearly had dinners to eat, nobles to meet, baths to take, books to read, peasants to spit on, and all manner of things she’d prefer to accomplish rather than be in the company of whatever assassins operated outside Farehold’s law.

The courtiers in the balconies were not especially numerous, but the ones who did observe appeared to be listening intently. A few could be seen whispering behind laced gloves or outstretched fans. The reevers had been around for centuries, but Samael had said himself that their numbers had dwindled. He had not left the keep in practically five decades. No one in this room appeared to surpass that length of time in years. Amaris wondered how much may have changed in the dozens of years Samael had remained sequestered.

She noted the courtiers only with the studiousness of the warrior she was trained to be, then blocked them out for the distractions they were. It was not useful to dwell on her audience. The only other bodies in the throne room that mattered belonged to the fully armored soldiers, still as sentinels, holding lavishly feathered spears on either side of the twin thrones. When she spoke, it was with authority and finality. She may be a girl with no family and no title, but she was a reever. She had a right to speak on behalf of balance regardless of the monarch before her.

“We are on dispatch to inquire as to the killings of Raascot men throughout Farehold.”

The queen’s transition from disinterest to amusement was abrupt. She nearly snorted at this, casting an entertained look to the empty seat beside her, then gesturing as if to the audience of courtiers. Her defensiveness was immediate.

“Killing! Please. Have any bodies been produced? Show me evidence that I have killed a single northman on my lands.”

A few humorless chuckles bounced off the stones from the overhanging balconies.

Amaris refused to look at the nobility lining the lofted floors. She kept her eyes on Moirai and remained uncharacteristically neutral as she restated her purpose.

“We are here on behalf of the reevers to request that Your Majesty stand down on her orders to kill northerners found south of the border,” she said.