Fen did not look down, but neither did she look directly at her father. She had seen enough petition days to know that no average citizen of Mournhold was brave enough to stare the king straight on, regardless of how faithful they were to Almalexia. Instead, she kept her eyes carefully trained at the hem of his robe, her breath warm inside the scarf.
"Remove your head covering," a steward by the door said, sounding bored. Fen shook her head once. "What's this?" the steward hissed, and Fen looked over at him. "You are in the presence of the King of all Morrowind. Show respect."
"I cannot, Serjo," Fen said told him, purposely making her voice as harsh and guttural as she could. The steward looked startled.
"Why not?" he demanded, remembering himself. Fen heard Helseth give a noise of impatience.
"My face was badly burned as a child, and if my wounds were to be exposed they would fester and become infected in seconds." The steward looked slightly sickened, and Fen saw him glance at the king. Her heart skipped a beat as the steward glanced back at her and nodded. She turned to face the raised dais where the thrones of Queen Barenziah and King Helseth stood.
"So you're the one Tienius has been telling us about," he said, though his voice was bored. Fen's words caught momentarily in her throat. Just the sound of her father's voice, despite it being bored and uninterested, made her knees week and her eyes blur.
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Then I believe you can be of assistance to us. It is never easy for one to assume the throne, especially after the unfortunate set of circumstances that led to our beloved King Llethan's death. There are those who would seek to profit from such events, to take the opportunity to create unrest among the people. There are those, even, who would wish to see us dead."
"Yes, Your Grace." There was a short pause.
"Does this surprise you?" he asked finally. "Even now, there are those that would see our head on a pike. What better way to achieve one's goals than to have others remove those that would oppose you? Surely you have some understanding of this? In fact, we have recently been told of a plot against the throne." Fen's heart pounded painfully in her chest. The plot they knew about because of her.
"What sort of plot, Your Grace?"
"Some of my informants have learned of a possible assassination plot against our royal person. I would like more information on this. However, I do not want to compromise the safety of my guards or of my informant. I believe, however, you would be suitable for this matter." I would be suitable, Fen thought bitterly. As if I were an pawn in a chess game.
"I wish for you to meet an informant of mine at a local cornerclub, The Winged Guar. You'll find it in Godsreach. He's an Orc, and shouldn't be hard to pick out. Find him, and ask him about his 'uncle's farm.' He'll know what it means. Then report back to me with your information." The King straightened up in his padded throne and addressed the steward. "Oh, Coltius, have a page take her to the healer. I think a revival of those burns should be a fair enough reward for your help so far."
"No," Fen said quickly, forgetting herself. There was utter silence from everyone in the room, the King, his countless personal guards, the stewards and courtiers that lined the walls. "I mean – their exposure would mean my death in seconds. We have seen every healer in the province. There is nothing to be done." She bowed her head. "It is a kind gesture, Your Highness, and I appreciate the offer, but knowing that I have helped the monarchy is a sufficient enough reward." For a long, endless moment, Helseth merely stared, as did the rest of the court. Then, finally, he sighed.
"Fine," the King said lazily, waving one hand. "Be off with you, then." Hardly daring to believe her good luck, Fen turned and walked quickly from the room. As soon as she reached the courtyard, she pulled the scarf down from around her face and found Julan, waiting anxiously by the doors.
"Thank the gods!" he exclaimed when he saw her. "How did you –" Fen held up one end of the scarf.
"He never even suspected me," she said, a relieved smile breaking out on her face despite herself. "But now we have to go back to the Winged Guar. There's an informant there I need to speak to about this assassination plot."
"What?" Julan said incredulously, jogging to keep up with Fen as she hurried from the courtyard. "I thought that was it. I thought we were leaving now. Going back to Vvardenfell."
"But I'm not finished here," Fen told him.
"Fen –" Julan started, and she swiftly cut him off.
"I know it's dangerous and I know he would kill me if he knew it was me," she told him at once. "But I'm being careful, and I need to finish this." She paused to glance at him. "Okay?" Julan's face was grim, but he nodded despite himself.
"I understand."
"Thank you," she said gratefully, although she did not voice what she was really thinking – a tiny, minute shred of her had hoped that Helseth would recognize her immediately, would call for the scarf to be pulled off so that she could be revealed to the court. She knew it would only result in her death, but the thought that she had stood directly in front of her father and not been seen as his daughter filled her with a sick sort of regret she could not shake off.
The Orc informant was easily to locate, sitting very conspicuously in the corner of the bar. He was enormous, especially for an Orc, and there were three broken chairs beside him, as if it had taken him some time to locate one that could hold his breadth.
"What do you want?" he snarled as they approached. His face was obscured by dark tattoos, piercings, and cracked and yellowed tusks portruding upward from his mouth.
"I'm to ask you about your uncle's farm," Fen said. The Orc rolled his eyes and gestured tiredly to two unbroken chairs nearby. Fen and Julan pulled them over to the table and sat.
"I get it. Code words. Whatever. Here's what you should know." He shifted his weight, took a long swig of greef, and leaned forward, banging his tankard down on the table. "Our king is a paranoid," he said simply, and Fen nodded in understanding. "I know, I know...it's treason to even think that sort of stuff, but it's true. He always thinks someone is out to get him. The man's had me checking into a different conspiracy every week for the last month. I keep telling him, 'You're king. You're gonna have enemies!' Does he listen?" The informant shook his head, exasperated. "This time, though, there might be something to it. I've found some disturbing information." Fen frowned.
"What information?" she asked.
"My sources tell me that there's a plot, but not against the king," he said grimly. "From what I've been able to gather, there will be an attempt made on the Queen Mother's life." Fen's eyes widened.
"Queen Barenziah?" she said incredulously, and the Orc nodded.
"I'm not sure who would want to target her – from what I know, she has no enemies in Mournhold – but that's what my sources are telling me."
"They're wrong," Fen told him immediately, standing up quickly. "No one would want to kill her."
"Suit yourself," the Orc said, taking another long drink.
When they returned to the Palace, Julan was, again, made to wait outside while Fen pulled Gildan's scarf over her face once more.
"I expected you would find out as much," Helseth said when Fen relayed the informant's information to him, her head low. The king swirled the wine he was drinking around in its goblet. "Other sources of mine indicate the same thing, and that the attempt will be made tonight."
"Tonight?" Fen whispered back to herself. Helseth did not hear her.
"My mother must be protected at all costs, but I do not wish to tip my hand to these assassins. Here is how we will protect Barenziah." He waved for a servant, who appeared at his side with a tray. Helseth drained the last of the wine and set the empty goblet upon the tray, then leaned forward.
"It would be unwise to station more guards outside her doors, as that would alert the killers to our knowledge," he said, and Fen hazarded a glance up to see his face was smooth and blank, the unreadable expression back. "Better to catch them in the act. One of our royal guards could be involved in this attempt, so they will be kept occupied elsewhere. You will stay in the antechamber outside our mother's chambers tomorrow evening, and deal with these assassins when they arrive. Close the door behind you and hide behind the screens, so as not to alert them to your presence. Do you understand?" Fen nodded once, and Helseth sat up. "Good. Return here by nightfall." With that, Fen was shown out to the courtyard, where she pulled off the scarf and met Julan, to whom she relayed the plan in a whisper as they walked to Godsreach.
"But you're in the Royal Family too," Julan muttered. "Why aren't there assassins crawling after you?"
"Until a few weeks ago, there were," Fen reminded him. "And besides, most people don't know I exist. These people like to be able to blame someone for their problems, so they blame Helseth." She paused. "And apparently, Barenziah as well."
"Well I'm coming with you this time," Julan said firmly. "Don't expect me to just sit in the bar again while you risk your life." Fen smiled slightly.
"I think you would like my grandmother, Julan."
When the sky outside turned a deep rose peppered with stars, Fen and Julan returned to the Palace, Fen's face carefully concealed once more. A page met them in the reception chamber and led them through to Barenziah's chambers, which was empty of all its usual guards and chambermaids. The outer chamber was unusually dark, all the candles snuffed out so that the only light was that which leaked in from the windows.
As the page closed the door behind them, the door to Barenziah's main chamber opened and the queen herself stood there, looking elegant as ever in a robe of deep crimson. Barenziah smiled as Fen pulled the scarf down.
"I had a feeling it was you," she said, coming over to them and resting a wizened hand on Fen's shoulder.
"Does Father know?"
"No," Barenziah replied, her face dark. "Though that man would not recognize his own mother if I stood with my back to him." She glanced at Julan, who was staring openly. "Are you the Ashlander that has traveled with my granddaughter?" she asked him, and Fen saw him wilt under her penetrating gaze.
"I – Yes, Y – Your Majesty."
"There's no need to stutter," Barenziah said dismissively. "I'm a mer just as you are, no different." Barenziah looked back to Fen. "So you will be the ones taking care of these assassins, I'm told?" Fen nodded. "Very well. Your father knows well enough that I can protect myself, thought it would be best not to argue. I think you will be able to handle yourself well, though, Fen."
"I believe so."
"Good." She kissed Fen on the forehead. "I have been up since the early hours of the dawn, and I must sleep now. Take care." She nodded to Julan. "And take care, friend." With that, she squeezed Fen's shoulder once and returned to her inner rooms, shutting the door with a soft click.
"Gods," Julan breathed out as Fen went to peer out the window. "She's incredible."
"I know," Fen replied, her chest swelling with pride. "I know she is." The courtyard had fallen into darkness now, and the room was almost completely dark. Fen and Julan went behind the thick ivory screens that sectioned off the back part of the room, where there was a round table and a few cupboards. They sat down at the table, out of sight of the main door. "They probably won't come for a while yet," she said, leaning back in her chair. "We may as well rest a while."
"You sleep," Julan offered. "I'll wake you up in an hour and we can switch." Fen agreed, and she laid her head down upon her arms, her eyes quickly drifting closed.