The Heiress Carrying Chapter 84 - 85 : What They Say About the Queen

Chapter 84: Chapter 85 : What They Say About the Queen

Elara’s POV

The afternoon sun was high now, hot on my neck, and my arms felt like they might fall off.

I had been lifting sacks of grain for hours. First from the wagons to the tables. Then from the tables to the hands of the people waiting. Then, when the tables ran low, back to the wagons to fetch more. The work was simple and endless. Lift. Carry. Pass. Lift. Carry. Pass. My hands were raw. My shoulders ached. The muscles in my back scread every ti I bent down.

But I kept going.

The other volunteers moved around , doing the sa work, not stopping, not complaining. A woman beside

had been here since before dawn. A young man across the table had a cut on his hand that he hadn’t bothered to bandage. No one asked for a break. No one sat down. The lines of people were still long, and the grain was still on the wagons, and the work was not done.

I bent down for another sack.

At so point, there was a lull. The morning rush had passed. The afternoon crowds hadn’t arrived yet. The volunteers around

slowed, stretched, wiped sweat from their faces. Soone brought water. I took a cup and stood to the side, catching my breath.

A few girls my age were standing near the next table, talking quietly. They looked like , plain clothes, tired faces, hands stained with flour dust. Volunteers, sa as I was pretending to be.

I moved closer. Not because I ant to. Just because that was where the water was.

One of them looked up and smiled. "You’ve been at it all day," she said. "You must be tired."

I smiled back. "A little."

She had a round face and dark hair pulled back from her face. Her sleeves were rolled up, showing arms that were strong from work. "First ti?" she asked.

"First ti," I admitted.

"That’s good. We need more people. Sotis they send the palace volunteers and they just stand there looking at the sacks like the sacks might bite them." She laughed. "You’re not doing that."

"I’m trying not to."

Another girl spoke up. She was taller, thinner, her face sharp and clever. "Where did they send you from? The northern district? I haven’t seen you before."

I had an answer ready for this. I had gone over it in my head the night before, lying in the dark, thinking about what I would say if anyone asked. But standing here, in the sun, with these girls who had been working beside

all day, the lie felt heavier than I expected.

"The palace," I said. "I work in the kitchens."

It was close enough to truth that I could hold it without it breaking. I knew the kitchens. I knew the corridors around them. I could answer questions if anyone asked.

The girl with the round face nodded. "That’s why your hands are soft," she said, not unkindly. "You’ll get callouses soon enough."

I looked down at my hands. She was right. They were soft. I had spent my life with my hands in silk and paper, not burlap and rope. The roughness I felt today was new.

"I hope so," I said.

The tall girl was looking at . Sothing in her expression had shifted, not recognition, not suspicion, just curiosity. "You must hear things," she said. "Working in the palace. What do they say about the distribution? About the queen?"

The other girls leaned in slightly. The question had changed the shape of the conversation. It was no longer just strangers passing ti. It was sothing else.

I kept my face neutral. "What do you hear?"

The tall girl laughed. "I asked you first."

Fair enough.

"Not much," I said carefully. "The servants talk, but they talk about everything. Mostly gossip. Which lord is out of favor. That kind of thing."

"That’s all?" She sounded disappointed.

I shrugged. "No one tells us anything important. We just do our work."

It was true enough. The servants in the palace did not get briefed on policy. They heard rumors, sa as everyone else.

The round-faced girl spoke up. "Well, we hear things here. And we have opinions." She grinned. "We have many opinions."

The others laughed. I smiled, though sothing in my chest was tightening.

"Tell ," I said. "I want to know."

The tall girl leaned against the table, arms crossed. She looked at

for a mont, like she was deciding whether to say what she really thought.

"She’s young," she said finally. "The queen. Very young. And she’s been queen for what? A few months? Less than a year?"

"About that," I said.

"So she’s young, she’s new, she doesn’t know what she’s doing. Probably." The tall girl shrugged. "That’s what people say. That she’s just a girl playing at being queen. That she doesn’t understand how things work. That she’s making it up as she goes along."

The words landed in my chest like stones dropping into still water. I kept my face still.

"That’s what people say," I repeated.

"That’s what everyone says." She gestured at the tables, the sacks, the long lines of people waiting. "Look at this. It took her weeks to send grain. Weeks. While people were hungry. While children were going to bed with nothing. And then she sends it like it’s so great favor, like we should be grateful."

The round-faced girl shifted uncomfortably. "It is sothing," she said quietly. "It’s more than we had before."

"It’s not enough." The tall girl’s voice was sharp. "It’s never enough. The water channels have been bad for a year. A year. And nothing happens. Nothing gets fixed. But she sends grain one ti and we’re supposed to fall on our knees and thank her?"

I opened my mouth, closed it. There was nothing I could say that would not give

away.

The round-faced girl looked at , a little apologetic. "She’s not wrong," she said. "The queen is young. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. But at least she sent the grain. That’s sothing."

They were right. I was young. I didn’t know what I was doing half the ti. I had spent weeks telling myself I was handling the crisis when really I was just waiting. Waiting for soone else to tell

what to do. Waiting for the right mont. Waiting until the hunger was so bad that sending grain felt like an ergency instead of just the right thing to do.

"Pretty, though," the tall girl added, almost as an afterthought. "That’s what they say. Pretty enough, anyway. But what does pretty matter when the water doesn’t work?"

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. It ca out short and surprised, and the others looked at

like I was strange for laughing at sothing that wasn’t funny.

"Sorry," I said. "It’s just... I work in the palace. I see her sotis. From a distance. And she always looks so put together. Like she has everything under control. It’s strange to think that other people see her differently."

The tall girl snorted. "Put together. She fainted in a council eting last week. Soone’s cousin was there, working in the kitchens, heard about it from one of the servants. Collapsed right in the middle of the eting. Couldn’t handle the pressure."

I had fainted. I rembered it clearly. The room going dark. Corvus’s voice calling my na from far away. The sha of waking up on the floor with everyone staring.

"She’s been ill," I said, and the words ca out flatter than I ant them to. "She’s been working too hard."

"That’s what they all say." The tall girl shrugged again. "She’s been ill. She’s working too hard. She’s young. She’s learning. Excuses, excuses. anwhile the water is bad and the apothecaries are empty and people are dying."

The round-faced girl touched her arm, gently. "She sent the grain. That’s sothing."

"Maybe." The tall girl looked at . "What do you think? You work in the palace. You see her. Is she as useless as everyone says?"

I stood there, in my plain clothes, with my soft hands and my aching arms.

"She’s trying." I said.

The tall girl looked at

for a long mont. Then she nodded slowly. "Fair enough. I suppose we’ll see what happens next. If she fixes the water. If she does sothing about the apothecaries. If she actually pays attention." She pushed off from the table. "Co on. The lines are getting long again."

The other girls moved back to the tables. I stayed where I was for a mont, letting their words settle.

She is childish. Inexperienced. Probably doesn’t know what she’s doing. Pretty enough but what does pretty matter when the water channels don’t work. Soone’s cousin heard she fainted in a council eting, probably can’t handle the pressure.

At least she sent the grain, that’s sothing, maybe she’s not completely useless after all.

I needed to hear it. I had co here to hear it. The real thing, not the polished version that filtered through Corvus’s reports, not the careful diplomatic language of the council, not the letters from lords who wanted favors. This. What people actually thought when they didn’t know the queen was listening.

I pulled my hood forward and went back to work. Lift. Carry. Pass. Lift. Carry. Pass. The sacks were heavy. My arms ached. The sun was hot on my neck.

I thought about the water channels. The apothecaries. The letters no one answered. I thought about the old man’s eyes, the woman’s tired voice, the girl waiting for her brother to co ho.

I picked up another sack and kept working.