Anya sighed as she poured herself a glass of wine. The call from Greta and Janessa that evening suggested things were going well. But she was still stressed. She always was, these days.
At least Janessa would be raised to a noblewoman through her marriage. A turn in fortune for a peasant orphan girl forced into being a concubine to get by. A girl that looked eerily like the deceased Crown Prince Jasper.
Poor Jasper.
Anya could remember the night of the coup like it was yesterday. She and the other concubines were awoken by Greta, who, despite not being a guard herself (she was a maid), held the knowledge and skills of one, thanks to her father. Everyone got out to safety but Janessa, who sprained her ankle and insisted on being left behind so that she didn't slow the others down. Anya gave her a magic amulet to help protect her.
When they got to the safe point, Jasper was there, but greviously wounded. He passed away from his wounds and was buried in a simple ceremony. Less than he deserved, but more than his parents got. Now, the fate of the kingdom rested in the hands of his younger half-siblings, who were from his father's concubines.
Though they were very young. Anya and her brothers, who led the royalist cause in Jasper's absence, had been working on a plan to make it seem as though Janessa should be the next Queen.
That was some time off, though. First, they needed to win the war. Then, they could determine who should wear the Karagotine crown.
Anya finished her wine and went to bed.