The Beauty of Darkness - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,139

these accusations without providing evidence, and we don’t see any.”

I could name many traitors, possibly half of the cabinet, but my only evidence, if Pauline was able to secure it, would be construed as something I had planted. I needed someone else to point the finger.

“You’ll have your evidence,” I promised, stalling for time. Where was Pauline? She was coming from the north hall, but what if her way was already blocked? “And you’ll get your names. But we haven’t discussed—”

A hand pounded on the north entry door and a shout blared through it. “Lia!”

The bar was lifted, and Pauline rushed across the room, nervously taking in the scrutiny of the cabinet and the lords. She walked up the steps to meet me with a box clutched in her arms.

There was another clatter of footsteps, and our men posing as citadelle guards rushed to the gallery rail. Gwyneth joined them and nodded to me. More footsteps. Soft. Hurried. A swish of skirts. Aunt Bernette, Aunt Cloris, and Lady Adele, the queen’s attendant, appeared, their hands gripping the rail as their eyes skimmed the room. Their gazes passed over me, and a knot swelled in my throat. I wasn’t the same girl who had left here so many months ago, and they didn’t recognize me. When they finally realized who I was, Aunt Cloris gasped, and tears flowed down Aunt Bernette’s cheeks, but Gwyneth had coached them well. They were not to speak, only bear witness, and they all held their tongues. And then there was a flash of blue, and my lungs squeezed. The queen stepped forward between my aunts, a shadow of who she had once been. She looked down at me, her eyes dark hollows, her gaze searing into mine. There’s nothing to know.… It’s only the chill of the night. But now we both knew it was far more than a chill.

“Welcome, Your Majesty,” I said. “We were just about to discuss the king’s health.”

I turned back to the cabinet. They fidgeted, waiting for me to say something, the Watch Captain’s hands safely tucked beneath the table.

“The king doesn’t seem to be recovering,” I said. “Can you tell me why?”

“The news of your betrayal struck him to the core,” the Chancellor growled. “There is no instant cure for a heart ripped from a man’s chest.”

A few of the lords mumbled agreement. I heard the gentle cries of Aunt Bernette.

“Hmm. So I’m told.” My eyes landed on the court physician. “Come join me here on the step,” I said, “so everyone can hear you report on my father’s health.” He didn’t move, glancing at the other cabinet members as if they could save him. “It is not a request, Lord Fently.” I held up my bandaged hand. “As you can see, I have a grave injury. Don’t make me drag you over here.” I sheathed my sword, and he reluctantly stood and walked over.

“Arabella,” the Royal Scholar interceded, “don’t—”

I turned sharply. “I have no qualms about cutting out your tongue, Your Eminence. In fact, after all the years I had to endure your condemning lectures, it would give me the greatest pleasure, so I would advise that you hold your tongue while you still possess one.”

Hold it. Just like all the times you made me hold mine. His eyes narrowed, familiar. Afraid. Worried. But not for his tongue. For the truth?

My anger burned brighter, and when the physician stopped in front of me, I grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to his knees. “What is wrong with my father?” I asked.

“His heart, Your Highness! As the Chancellor said!” he answered quickly, his tone high and earnest. “But his other ailments are many! It is a tricky thing, treating so many conditions. It will take time, but I have the highest hopes for his recovery.”

I smiled. “Really. That is reassuring, Lord Fently.” I nodded to Pauline, and she opened the box. “And these are some of the medicines you’re treating him with?”

“Yes!” he said, his tone thick with pleading. “These are only simple remedies to make him more comfortable!”

I reached in and pulled out a small bottle of dark amber elixir. “This?”

“Only to ease aches and pains.”

My fingers fumbled, stiff and tingling, to remove the cork with my injured hand. The effort of twisting it free made blood gush warm again beneath the bandage. I sniffed the bottle. “For pain? I could use some of this.” I took a hearty swig and shrugged. “There, now. I think I’m feeling better