Free empress of storms by nicole m cameron

waiting to act on her will. You have no idea what I could do to you, lord commander. Even an adept could cause you to drown in the middle of a bone-dry room.
    With an intense effort she regained control of her talent, pushing it back into that space where it resided. “I have no desire whatsoever for the king’s death, as he himself would confirm if you asked him,” she said, giving Bardahlson an icy look. “And you may keep your disgusting opinions about suitors and betrotheds to yourself.”
    Bardahlson drew himself up. “Is that so? Then you’ll come and look at his rooms?”
    “For what?”
    “I don’t know!” The words were barked at her, the first real loss of control she’d seen from the commander. “Evil wishes, a curse, something that I’ve missed. Examine his rooms and tell me there’s nothing amiss, and I’ll have naught but praise for you.”
    “And what’s the king to think if he finds us alone in his chambers?” she bit out.
    “Bring your maid as chaperone,” Bardahlson snapped back. “Bring a troop of them, I don’t care. But I ask that you put my mind at ease. Majesty.”
    She weighed his request. It was far more likely that Matthias suffered from hemikrania and his commander didn’t want to acknowledge a weakness in his king. But if there was a chance that someone had sent something magical against Matthias and she didn’t investigate…
    She nodded once. “Lead on, commander.”
    They headed for the wing reserved for the royal family. After a brief stop at Danaë’s chambers to collect a puzzled Flavia, Bardahlson led them to the end of the corridor, stopping in front of a large carved door. He knocked, waited, then knocked again.
    “The foolish man is still in his damned meetings,” he muttered, grabbing the brass handle and jerking the door open. “I suppose I should be grateful for his pigheadedness this once.”
    Danaë stalked past him into the king’s chambers. The room was much the same temperature as her own, and the air held the scent of soap, wood polish, and the faint, warm scent that belonged to Matthias alone. His chamber was half again as large as hers, and had been divided into two changing areas and a sleeping area proper. The massive royal bed lay against the far wall, its burgundy velvet curtains drawn back and tied to dark-stained oak uprights with heavy gold ropes. The nearer changing area belonged to Matthias’s, judging by the masculine furniture and well-tended look of everything. The other changing area, ostensibly the late Queen Hanne’s, lay in the far corner of the room. All the furniture there had been covered by drop cloths, looking like nothing so much as shrouds. For some reason Danaë shivered at the sight. 
    And then jumped as a short, neatly dressed man burst through the doorway. “What in the world—how dare you invade the king’s chambers!” he bleated.
    Bardahlson held up a massive hand. “Calm yourself, Mohrs. Her majesty is looking for something.”
    Mohrs—the king’s valet, Danaë remembered—spluttered on until the commander dragged him off to a corner and had a short whispered conversation. Now pale, the valet came over to Danaë, tugging at his vest. “Can I assist you in any way, your majesty?” he asked.
    “Yes. Why is that furniture covered?”
    The valet frowned at the shrouded shapes. “It belonged to Queen Hanne. His majesty couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it, so he had it covered.”
    Danaë moved through the room, passing the king’s dressing area. Something hummed at the edge of her consciousness.
    “Well?” Bardahlson demanded.
    She held up a hand to silence him, concentrating. “I can hear something. It sounds like the buzzing of flies,” she murmured.
    Mohrs and Flavia joined the commander. “I can’t hear anything, mistress,” Flavia said.
    Danaë didn’t know how to explain a sound that couldn’t be heard with your ears. She stopped at the bed, running her fingers along the top edge of the