all the same. He had taken the measure of these guards now, and if he so wished, the Princess’s neck would be in his hands in less than five seconds. He was sure that Carroll knew this as well, but Carroll was in no position to break Guard tradition. He was too young.
“Incidentally,” the Queen remarked as they walked, “we will need to eject Mhurn from the Guard. Barty, I trust you will take care of it. Give him a small severance and send him back where he came from.”
Barty nodded, but Christian noted that his face was frozen; looking down, he found the old guard’s hands trembling. Barty glanced at Elyssa, as though in mute appeal, but the Princess was not looking at any of them, only staring dreamily at the walls as they began to climb the stairs.
“Get General Cleary in here,” the Queen told Givens. “We need to stamp out this nonsense in the Almont immediately, before it infects the city. God knows the last thing I need is a bunch of radical farmers linking up with those lunatics from the Blue Horizon. I want at least two battalions mobilized and ready to leave in a week.”
“Yes, Majesty. Cleary’s in the city. I’ll summon him today, but there may be a bit of a delay.”
“What sort of delay?”
Givens swallowed; he did not want to bear bad news to the Queen, and Christian could not blame him.
“There was an incident early this morning, Majesty. The Blue Horizon broke into Lord Welland’s storehouses on the outskirts of the Hollow. Six dead and more than twenty injured. I believe Cleary is still clearing up the wreckage.”
The Queen’s face tightened. “And the food?”
“Gone, Majesty.”
“What of the Fetch?”
“He was there, Majesty. Several soldiers saw him . . . or his mask, at any rate.”
The Queen cursed under her breath. “Up the bounty on the Fetch again. A thousand pounds.”
“It’s no use, Majesty. No one will give him up.”
“Then we must be cleverer than he is!” the Queen exploded, turning on the landing to face them all. “Is my entire army incompetent?”
Givens said nothing—wisely, Christian thought. The maid, Niya, was looking up the next stairwell, as though the conversation bored her, but Christian sensed a vast well of upset beneath that serene exterior. By contrast, the Princess herself seemed genuinely uninterested, examining her fingernails as though they were fascinating.
“Is there more we have not been apprised of?” the Queen asked coldly. “Any further catastrophes that you were not planning to share?”
Givens flushed, but replied, “No catastrophe, Majesty, only a small problem. Lord Latimer has disappeared.”
“Says who?” the Queen asked, turning to begin climbing again.
“His family, Majesty. Apparently, Latimer disappeared in the Gut. The family sent a messenger last night, reminding you that he was once the Prince’s caregiver and demanding a full investigation.”
“No body?”
“None yet, Majesty.”
“Send them our regrets,” the Queen replied blandly. “Or do one better: tell them we hope he’s dead and burning. We do not grieve when stoats meet their end, regardless of how much cattle they own.”
“I will perhaps change the phrasing, Majesty.”
The guards chuckled, but Christian did not. Stoat, the Queen had called Latimer; she had known about him, then. Christian snuck a glance at Carroll, but the other guard’s face might have been made of wood for all it revealed.
“I must see Brenna,” the Queen announced as they entered the Queen’s Wing. “Have her come to my chambers.”
“Majesty—”
“Don’t start with me, Givens. Do as I say.”
Givens’s face darkened, but he nodded to Bowler, one of the Queen’s other close guards. The Queen continued down the hall toward her chambers, several guards in tow, and Elyssa followed her, with Galen and Cae trailing close behind.
The rest of the guards gathered around the table, awaiting dinner. Christian sat beside Carroll without asking; he wasn’t sure any of the rest wanted to sit next to him, and he didn’t want to sit next to them. Barty was on his other side, but he was deep in muttered conversation with Givens. Christian did not need to eavesdrop; he would have heard the conversation whether he wished to or not.
“We must do something.”
“What am I to do?” Givens demanded. “The Queen thinks she can make her immortal, help her see the future, God knows what else. And the things the witch carries around! Chicken scraps, blood in vials . . . I found what looked like a child’s arm bone last time I tossed her chambers! I want that creature here no