Being able to create money is a secret I will take to my grave, but it allows me to be far, far pettier than any human could afford to be.

  “Pay the masons double if they work at night to get it done faster,” I say. “Tell them it is a gift to the city from the Fey Court.”

  We re-enter the carriage and finish the drive to the palace. The guards at the gate look sullen and tired. Their uniforms are worn, and they hold their pikes with the indifference of men who haven't been paid on time.

  As the carriage stops for inspection, I lean out the window.

  “Good afternoon,” I say brightly. The guard grunts.

  “Papers.” I hand him the pass Oskar gave us. He glances at it and waves us through.

  “Wait,” I say. I reach into my bag and grab a silver coin, turning it into a handfull of silver coins.

  I pull them out, heavy and bright, looking as if they were freshly minted. I drop them into the guard’s startled hand.

  “What’s this for?” he asks, suspicious.

  “A tip,” I say loud enough for his partner to hear. “It must be terrible standing out here in the cold with such thin cloaks. Please, have a hot meal and some wine on me. It is a shame King Oskar’s treasury is so… strained… that he cannot properly equip the men who guard his life.”

  The guard looks at the silver in his hand, likely more than he likely makes in a month, and then at me.

  His suspicion evaporates, replaced by a look of fervent gratitude. “Thank you, My Lady! Bless you!”

  “Share it with your fellows,” I say sweetly. “The Fey appreciate those who keep watch.”

  As we roll through the gates, Ulrick is shaking with silent laughter.

  “You are dangerous,” he wheezes. “You’re buying his army out from under him, one gate guard at a time.”

  “I’m just stimulating the economy,” I reply, smoothing my dress. “And if Oskar complains, he has to admit he underpays them. Now, let’s go find Kenric. I want to see if he’s ready to be rescued from the Exchequer.”

  As I’m on my way to rescue Kenric, Oskar pops out from behind a tapestry. “Víl?, how lovely to see you again. You look magnificent as always.”

  I curtsey and then stand eyeing him.

  “Clearly, your husband is doing his duty, but let us be honest... I can do better,” Oskar says.

  Gods! Are we really back to this? How do I swat this gnat?

  I watch him with narrowed eyes, but a semi-polite smile. He prowls towards me and starts to reach out but pulls his hand back.

  Ah, good! I see you’ve learned to keep your hands to yourself.

  “I think we might… become friends, if Kenric were to…” He pauses for a moment, clearly delighted with his idea, “say… take an extended tour of all the border outposts.” He’s practically purring, “Kenric would be gone for months.”

  I’m not willing to sit here for months without Kenric.

  I frown at Oskar. “Are you really in that much of a hurry for Jannick to become king? Or for this trade deal you need so badly to be cancelled? Although, in your case, that amounts to the same outcome either way.”

  Instead of stepping away from him, I stalk toward him.

  My smirk has grown vicious, “I would suggest, Your Majesty, that who ever is giving you such poor advice sit and read the trade agreement with particular attention to the clauses around Kenric, myself and my marriage to Kenric. Furthermore, Your Majesty (and it’s said in a drawling sneer), you should never doubt that I cannot protect what is mine. And Kenric is mine. I have dismantled your dukes for trying to interfere with my marriage. Do you really wish me to turn that attention on you?”

  Oskar starts to interject but I wave him off. “You are a weak and impotent king. You may have the crown, but until I intervened, the dukes had the power. You’ve let them run you for years, either unwilling or unable to stop them. I shut them down in days. How? Because I’m used to the politics of the Fey Court where the stakes are often much higher.”

  Oskar tries to defend himself and I shake my head, “Your dukes have manipulated you for years. They’ve arranged for the Earls, Viscounts and Barons to marry at fairly regular intervals to keep you occupied chasing after the newest brides so that they could usurp your authority. You have allowed this, blinded by your own lust.”

  Oskar considers this and I see the leashed rage behind the courtier’s mask as he realizes just how easily he’s been manipulated.

  You are a fool of man and even more so as a king. If it weren’t for Jannick, Grethe would have poisoned you long ago. As things sit, Jannick’s as likely to try to have her head as to send her to a convent somewhere. You are a sad excuse for king so let me explain to you just how pathetic you truly are. You’ll hate me but then perhaps, you’ll leave me alone.

  I continue planting my hooks. “You lack the most basic statecraft, namely keeping your ass firmly seated on that throne. Instead of taking back your power, building your economy, building your army, and generally doing what a king should be doing, you are here. In a hallway. Trying to coerce Ellisar Wynric’s, another far more powerful king's, personal envoy to Centis. The same person who is also The Hloir? Aralli? Royal Fey Ambassador and the head of the Hloir? Aralli? Royal Fey Bank of Centis. Have you even stopped to consider what that might mean for your precious chair?”

  Oskar sneers at me, “It means nothing. It’s less than nothing. You have no power here…”

  I smirk at this statement. “Fool! YOU are the one without power, in your own damned kingdom, no less.” “As the head of this branch of the bank, I set the interest rates on all the loans to any person, business, or even the Crown in Centis. I determine the amount of credit to issue or if any at all gets issued. Do you still think it’s nothing?” I say as prowl around him.

  Oskar blanches as he considers this. “You don’t have to give us credit at all,” Oskar says slowly, realization finally dawning.

  “Not even a copper’s worth,” I reply, “There are reasons that the bank is on sovereign Fey soil. That is only one of them.”

  “Why would you call me a weak and impotent king?” Oskar asks, “I’m not…”

  I laugh, cutting him off, but there’s no mirth in it. “How can you possibly be this obtuse? Royal babies aren’t usually dropped on their heads. Repeatedly.”

  Instead I reply, “All but one of your dukes were nearly in a full rebellion against you until I returned here, in person, and shut down a rebellion that never should have been fostered. Fostered by you, no less. They flouted your authority over your own court. That’s only one step away from flouting your authority over your throne.”

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  I watch as Oskar’s expressions shift as he tries to justify it, to explain it, to rationalize it all away. One excuse after another is taken up and discarded.

  I snort dismissively, “You are weak because you allow yourself to be manipulated far too easily. It should never have to fall to a foreign ambassador to manage your court and prop you back onto your throne. Your statecraft and grasp of power is… lacking. If Jannick were less of a drunken lout, I’d have let them depose you.”

  I prowl past him and turn back to face him, “Your economy is in a shambles. That too has fallen to a foreign ambassador to rectify. You’ve never invested in anything. Don’t worry, The Royal Fey Bank will handle it. Your roads are terrible. So bad, in fact, that I’m rebuilding the stretch of it between your palace and our new embassy and bank, at my own expense. I’m certain that there will be a great deal of traffic between the two locations. I’d be remiss if I forced our nobles to wade through ankle deep mud every time it rains. That’s something that MY king would call me to account over, if I’d allowed it to persist.”

  Oskar stands there, face changing colors, unable to decide what to say next so I simply curtsey again, “Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but do I have things to attend to.”

  With that I march off, leaving a very disgruntled Oskar standing in the hallway.

  Oooo, that man. He’s just earned himself a bit more retribution. I know exactly what to do. Let’s see what Oskar makes of this.

  I’m nearly giddy with satisfaction as I consider my plans for Oskar. We locate Kenric emerging from the Exchequer’s office, looking as though he has spent the last hour arguing with a stone wall. He brightens considerably when he sees me, though his brow furrows when he notices the smug expressions on Ulrick and Iwan.

  “I take it the shopping trip was successful?” Kenric asks, kissing my cheek.

  “Wildly,” I reply. “We bought the Old Mint.”

  Kenric blinks. “That soggy old ruin?”

  “It has good bones,” I assure him. “And deep vaults. But it is currently inhabited by rats and covered in a century of grime. The artists cannot work in such squalor. Before Holger and his team can begin, the canvas must be clean.”

  I turn to Melina, who has just joined us in the hallway, looking concerned about our sudden burst of activity.

  “Melina, I have a task for you,” I say, keeping my voice brisk. “I need the Old Mint scrubbed. Floors, walls, ceilings. I want the windows washed until they are invisible. I want the cobwebs gone. I want it to smell like pine, lemon and lavender, not mold, rat droppings and despair.”

  Melina nods slowly. “That will take a team, My Lady. A large one. I can ask around the city—”

  I shake my head. “Do not just ask,” I interrupt. “Ask the maids here in the palace if they have the day off—or if they would like to take the day off. Hire them. All of them. Go to the city square. Go to the lower quarters. ” I reach into my bag again and pull out a handful of gold coins. I press a heavy stack of them into Melina’s hands.

  “Pay them a gold ducat each for the day,” I order.

  When all of the women are gone, working for me for a day all these men will find out just how much they depend on them.

  Melina nearly drops the coins. “A gold ducat? My Lady, that is a year’s wages for a scullery maid!”

  “Then they will work very hard,” I say with a sharp smile. “And they will be very loyal. I want an army of brooms and buckets at the Mint within the hour. If the innkeepers complain they have no staff, tell them to take it up with the Fey Ambassador. If Oskar complains that his chamber pot hasn’t been emptied because his maids are busy scrubbing my floors, tell him I am stimulating the labor market.”

  Iwan chokes on a laugh. “You are going to bring the city to a standstill. No one will go to their regular jobs if you are handing out gold pieces for sweeping.”

  “Exactly,” I say, feeling a petty thrill of satisfaction. Oskar wants to play games with my time? I will play games with his economy. “It is a celebration of the new trade deal. A ‘signing bonus’ for the workforce of Dobile. Now go, Melina. I want that building shining by sunset.”

  Melina grins, curtsies, and dashes off, clutching the gold to her chest. I can already hear her calling out to the passing servants.

  Kenric shakes his head, though his eyes are dancing. “You are trying to cause a riot.”

  “I am simply ensuring our new Embassy is fit for habitation,” I reply innocently. “Fey standards of cleanliness are very high. You have been to Imelenora. We value hygiene. Now, husband, let us return to our rooms. I believe you owe me a foot massage from our wager earlier, and I have had a very long day of spending money.”

  We step out of our rooms, dressed for dinner. The silence in the palace hallways is the first sign that my plan has worked better than even I anticipated. Usually, this time of evening is a bustle of activity, maids rushing with fresh linens, footmen lighting tapers, and kitchen staff hauling trays. Tonight, the corridors echo with nothing but our own footsteps.

  Melina walks beside me, trying and failing to suppress a grin. “The report from the Old Mint is… chaotic, My Lady. But productive. I am told there isn’t a single cobweb left in the city of Dobile. They are fighting over who gets to scrub the floors.”

  “Good,” I purr, adjusting my pearl-encrusted cuffs. “Efficiency should be rewarded.”

  Kenric offers me his arm as we approach the Great Hall. “You realize we are walking into a lion’s den? A hungry lion’s den.”

  “Oskar is a toothless lion,” I reply. “And tonight, he will be a thirsty one, too.”

  We enter the dining hall. The scene is delicious. The long tables are set, but the usual army of servers standing at attention along the walls is missing. The goblets are empty. The platters are bare. The assembled nobles, all the dukes, earls, and their ladies, are milling about in a state of confused agitation.

  We take our seats near the front. Duke Jellema catches my eye and gives a subtle nod, though he looks baffled by the lack of service. A moment later, the herald announces the King. Oskar strides in, looking flushed and eager for wine.

  He takes his seat at the head table and waves a hand imperiously. “Wine,” he commands.

  Nothing happens. Oskar frowns and looks over his shoulder. The alcove usually occupied by the wine steward is empty.

  He turns to the other side. “Bread!” Nothing happens. Oskar frowns and looks over his shoulder.

  Silence.

  “Arvo!” Oskar bellows, his face turning a shade of puce that clashes horribly with his velvet doublet.

  The Steward scuttles out from the kitchen entrance. He looks harried, his wig askew, and, delightfully, he has a smear of grease on his cheek, as if he has been trying to plate the food himself.

  “Your Majesty,” Arvo gasps, bowing low.

  “Where is my wine? Where is the soup? Where are the servants?” Oskar demands, his voice rising with each question.

  Arvo wrings his hands. “They… they are gone, Your Majesty.”

  “Gone?” Oskar roars. “Gone where? To the moon? Did a plague strike in the last hour?”

  “To… to the Old Mint, Sire,” Arvo stammers, shrinking back. “They all left. The scullions, the serving wenches, the chambermaids. Even the laundresses. They just… put down their baskets and left.”

  The entire hall goes deathly silent. Every eye turns toward me. I busy myself with adjusting the napkin in my lap, looking the picture of innocence.

  “Why would they go to that ruin?” Oskar demands, bewildered.

  “Because,” Arvo swallows hard, risking a glance in my direction, “someone is paying a gold ducat for a day’s cleaning. Paid in advance. In pure Fey gold.”

  A collective gasp ripples through the room. A gold ducat is a fortune to these people.

  Oskar turns his glare on me. “You.”

  I look up, blinking slowly. “Me, Your Majesty?”

  “You hired my staff,” he accuses, pointing a trembling finger. “You stole my servants!”

  “I hired local labor to renovate the new Fey Embassy,” I correct him gently. “I merely offered a competitive wage. I had no idea your staff was so… dissatisfied with their current employment that they would leave their King for a single day’s work.”

  I let that hang in the air. If you paid them better, Oskar, they wouldn’t be scrubbing my floors right now.

  “You cannot just walk in here and buy the city!” Oskar sputters.

  “I am stimulating the economy,” I reply, using the phrase I practiced with Iwan. “And the Old Mint was filthy. Fey standards are quite exacting. I needed it done quickly.”

  “My dinner is ruined!” Oskar shouts, slamming his hand on the table.

  “Oh dear,” I say, my voice dripping with faux sympathy. “Is there no one at all left in the kitchens? Perhaps the nobles could… help themselves? It would be quite a rustic adventure. Like a picnic.”

  Iwan Nalis, sitting a few seats down, chokes on a laugh and turns it into a cough. Even Queen Grethe has a hand over her mouth, her eyes crinkled with mirth. Oskar looks around the room, seeing the suppressed amusement on the faces of his court. He realizes he cannot arrest me for hiring cleaners. He cannot demand I return them without admitting he can’t match my wages. He is trapped, hungry, and sober.

  “Fine,” he snarls, slumping back in his chair. “Arvo, fetch whatever is cooked. Serve it yourself if you have to.”

  As the Steward scurries off to serve the King like a common footman, I feel Kenric’s hand squeeze my knee under the table.

  “You are terrible,” he whispers, his voice thick with amusement.

  “I am efficient,” I whisper back, taking a sip of the water I brought myself in a flask. “And I am wealthy. It is a dangerous combination.”

  I touch the purse at my waist. I have a few Fey coins left in there. Later, when we are alone, I will use my magic to duplicate them until the bag is full again . It costs me nothing but a little focus, yet it buys me chaos. Oskar thinks he is fighting a war of wills, but he is fighting a war against a treasury that has no bottom. As Arvo returns with a tureen of soup, splashing it onto the table in his haste, I smile at the King.

  Have you ever had an awkward dinner? Let me know in the comments...