Oskar’s face goes purple. He breathes heavily, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. I can smell the sour tang of his anger. It is sharp, metallic, and dangerous. He is not thinking of bedding me now; he is thinking of how to destroy me. "You forget your place," he says, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You are a guest here. You are Kenric's wife. You exist here by my sufferance. If I sign an order today, Kenric is stripped of his title. He becomes a commoner. And you... You become the wife of a nobody."

  It is a direct threat. He cannot hurt me physically, so he strikes at Kenric.

  I step closer to him, invading his personal space. I do not look up at him with fear; I look at him with the cold, predatory assessment of a Fey who has hunted things far more dangerous than a human king.

  "And you forget your position, Oskar," I say softly, using his name without the title. "You need the Fey trade deal to fill your treasury. You need Ellisar’s goodwill to keep your neighbors from carving up Centis like a roast goose. If you strip Kenric of his title, you void the contract. If you harm his standing, you void the contract. If you send me home because my charity bruised your ego... You void the contract."

  I tilt my head, smiling without any warmth. "Do you think your Dukes will let you remain, King, if you cost them the wealth of the Fey? They are already circling, Oskar. They smell your weakness. I’ve already stopped them from overthrowing you once. If you attack me, you show them your throat."

  Oskar stares at me. He hates me. It radiates off him in waves. He wants to strike me, but the memory of the solar plexus punch and the political reality hold him back. "I forbid it," he grates out. "I forbid you from spending another coin in this city. No more roads. No more cloaks. No more charity."

  "The plates and silverware are already commissioned," I say lightly. "I paid in advance. It would be a waste to cancel them."

  "Then let that be the end of it," Oskar snarls. "If I see one more piece of gold with Ellisar's face on it circulating in my capital, I will have Kenric arrested for corruption. Do not test me, Víl?. I may need the Fey, but accidents happen in the dungeons every day."

  He spins on his heel and storms away, his heavy footsteps echoing in the silence he leaves behind. Melina exhales a breath she must have been holding for minutes.

  "My Lady... he threatened Lord Kenric."

  "He did," I agree, watching the King's retreating back. My blood is humming, not with fear, but with the cold clarity of the hunt. "He is scared. A scared King is dangerous."

  "What do we do?" Melina asks. "If we spend more, he arrests Kenric. If we stop, he wins."

  I smile, and it is a sharp, feral thing. "We do not stop, Melina. We simply change tactics. He forbade me from spending coins. He said nothing about trade, barter, or gifts of service. And he certainly said nothing about the Bank."

  I turn to Inaba. "Double the guard on Kenric. If he leaves our rooms, he does not go alone. Not even to the privy."

  "And you?" Inaba asks.

  "I am going to write a letter to Ellisar," I reply, starting toward the stairs. "It seems King Oskar is worried about corruption. I think it is time the Fey Bank audited the Crown's accounts. Let us see just how deep his debts to Basten really went."

  Melina smirks, “My cousin works for Nelis as an accountant managing his gambling concerns. Perhaps start there to see how much Oskar owes Basten.”

  “I suspect this place is in such a state because most of the money has gone to pay his gaming debts,” I shrug, “but we shall need proof of that.”

  I pace the length of our newly renovated parlor, the thick rugs muffling my footsteps. My mind is racing, categorizing threats and opportunities. Oskar thinks he has checkmated me by freezing my spending, but he has only forced me to move a different piece.

  “Melina,” I say sharply, turning to where she is mending a hem. “You mentioned before that your cousin is married to an accountant.”

  Melina looks up, needle pausing. “Yes, My Lady. Gerhardt. He works for Duke Nelis Doerr.”

  “Specifically,” I recall, tapping a finger against my lips, “he keeps the books on Nelis’s gambling operations.”

  “He does,” Melina nods, looking wary. “Though he hates it. He says the numbers… they give him headaches. He complains that they do not add up the way honest numbers should.”

  “Excellent,” I smile. “I have a headache too, Melina. And I think Gerhardt is the cure.”

  I walk over to the desk where I keep the preliminary ledgers for the Royal Fey Bank. I flip it open. “Jan Vermeersch warned me that the Exchequer, Goarreit Nidjam, has ‘sticky fingers’. If the King’s own purse keeper is stealing from him, and the Dukes are cheating him at cards, it is no wonder Oskar is terrified of spending money.”

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Kenric enters the room, having shed his armor for a velvet doublet. He looks weary. “What are you plotting now, my treasure? You have that look.”

  “I am not plotting, husband,” I say innocently. “I am performing due diligence. As the head of the Royal Fey Bank, I have a fiduciary duty to ensure the stability of the kingdom’s economy. If foreign investors, Fey or human, see a King eating off chipped plates, with tin forks, in a crumbling palace, they will think Centis is insolvent. They will take their gold elsewhere. I’ve tried to fix things here and there by correcting Oskar’s image in places where I thought he’d let me. Things like the plates and the road. Now, since he is angry, I must fix the reality.”

  “You want to audit the Crown?” Kenric asks, pouring himself a glass of wine.

  “I want to audit the corruption,” I correct him. “Oskar threatened to arrest you for corruption if I spent another coin. The irony is too rich to ignore. If we can prove that his poverty is caused by his own Exchequer and his ‘friends’ like Nelis and Basten, we hand Oskar a weapon. And a King with a weapon doesn’t need to hold you hostage for leverage.”

  I turn back to Melina. “Send for your cousin. Tonight. Tell her to bring Gerhardt. Tell them… tell them the Fey Bank is looking to hire a Royal Auditor. The pay is triple what Nelis pays, and the benefits include not being arrested when I eventually expose Basten and Neils's fraud.”

  Melina’s eyes widen. “You would hire him?”

  “I need someone who knows where the bodies are buried, Melina. Or at least, where the gold is buried. If Gerhardt can bring me proof that the gambling debts Oskar is paying are inflated or that the money Nelis claims to be sending to Vupis is actually staying in his own pocket, then we have them.”

  “And the Exchequer?” Kenric asks.

  “We track the tax levies,” I say. “Oskar collects taxes. The money goes to Goarreit. But the roads are mud, the guards are freezing, everything is worn out, and the castle is falling apart. Where is the gold going, Kenric? It isn’t going to the King.”

  I pick up a quill. “If I can trace the flow of coin, I can show Oskar that I am not his enemy. I am the only one keeping him from being picked clean by his own court. I will present him with a choice: he can keep fighting me and stay poor, or he can let me help him reclaim his treasury from the parasites surrounding him.”

  “And if he refuses?” Kenric asks softly.

  I look at the map of Centis hanging on the wall. “Then I will own the debt he owes to the Dukes. And under Centis law, the debtor is a servant to the lender. I won’t need an army to take over this kingdom, Kenric. I’ll just foreclose on it.”

  We sit and talk for a time, and I pull Inaba into the discussion. I lay the whole thing out for them, knowing that Oskar is in the wall listening to every word. I doubt he realizes that I know he’s there.

  I begin to lay out just how much has been stolen from Oskar. “I’ve already gotten letters from investors who are interested in joint ventures here in Centis with the Fey Bank. They’ll come to visit in person once the tides and weather turn. If they come and see the kingdom like this, they’ll turn around and leave. I’ve tried to put some plaster over the most glaring things, and all that’s done is make Oskar angry. Everything about this place screams poverty, and I’ve just been forbidden to try to fix anything else.”

  “For the potential investors?” Kenric asks.

  I nod. “I wasn’t going to try to fix everything, but I needed to fix enough to make at least Centis seem like it’s ‘up and coming’ instead of sliding into wrack and ruin. Goarriet keeps claiming it’s the army that’s draining all the money. Yet, that doesn’t make sense. His army isn’t that large, for a kingdom this size, and it’s poorly equipped. Their uniforms are no better than the threadbare royal guards, and the regular army has even worse weapons.”

  “I’ve seen them,” Kenric says, “It’s an army equipped with third-hand uniforms and rusty weapons.”

  “How is that draining all his gold?” I ask, “But I’m the problem because I fix a section of road, buy cloaks for his guards so that they don’t look disreputable, order new tableware so Centis doesn’t look like it’s piss-poor and slipping down hill into abject poverty. The fields here are fertile. The ports are active. Where is all that gold going?”

  “What do you think?” Kenric says.

  I shrug, “As head of the Fey Bank, I’ll need to conduct an audit. Here’s what we know so far. Arvo moved his whole damned family into the palace. They looted the palace to fund their own semi-noble lifestyle until Jellema forced Arvo to boot them out. Arvo certainly wasn’t maintaining the palace before that either. That chimney didn’t get that clogged overnight. He gave Jellema some excuse about the funds to keep the roof water-tight having to come from somewhere.”

  Kenric grimaces, “What else?”

  I wave the copy of The Listing, as it’s known, at him, “This book details everything that Oskar is entitled to from all these lords. This should be a wealthy kingdom. Goarreit should be collecting all these levies and taxes from dukes and lords. Instead, we have royal guards in threadbare uniforms, muddy roads, chipped plates, bent silverware, and a palace that’s clearly seen better days. If Oskar doesn’t have the gold and I make him feel poor, who’s got it?”

  We enter the Great Hall for dinner, and the air is thick enough to choke on. The court is buzzing with the usual gossip, but it quiets as we approach the high table. They can smell the tension, even if they don’t know the source. Oskar is already seated, slumping in his chair like a petulant child who has been told he cannot have dessert. He does not look at me. He stares aggressively at a spot on the wall, his jaw working as if he is chewing on a stone.

  Kenric pulls out my chair. His hand lingers on my shoulder, a silent question. I cover his hand with mine, giving a reassuring squeeze.

  "He is in a mood," Kenric whispers as he takes his seat beside me. "The whole palace is walking on eggshells."

  "He is sulking," I murmur back, unfolding my napkin. "I told him some truths he did not wish to hear."

  Oskar finally acknowledges our presence with a sneer. He deliberately turns his shoulder to us, engaging Duke Jellema in a loud, boisterous conversation about hunting hounds. Jellema looks pained but plays along. I do not care about his shoulder. I care about the man sitting three seats down from him.

  Goarreit Nidjam, the Exchequer.

  He is a narrow man with nervous hands and a doublet that looks expensive but ill-fitted, as if he is trying to hide his true shape. He is sweating, despite the chill in the hall. He keeps glancing at Oskar, then down at his plate.

  "Kenric," I whisper, keeping my eyes on the Exchequer. "Do not look immediately, but tell me about Goarreit."

  Kenric takes a sip of wine, masking his movement. "He has been the Exchequer for ten years. He complains constantly about the cost of the army, yet somehow always finds funds for the King’s… personal entertainments."

  "Jan Vermeersch told me he has 'sticky fingers'," I murmur. "I thought he meant petty graft. But look at him. He is terrified."

  "Why?" Kenric asks.

  Have you ever dealt with a thief? Let me know in the comments...