Five Dark Fates (Three Dark Crowns #4) - Kendare Blake Page 0,46
seemed too easy.” Rho turns to Katharine, her white hood down inside the council chamber, her hair, red as blood, falling over her shoulder.
“Too easy,” says Genevieve. “Have you forgotten how many queensguard we lost? How many—”
“The Legion Queen is not dead,” Rho replies. “And Arsinoe now has a strong adviser in Cait Milone.”
“So what do we do?” asks Lucian.
“Nothing,” says Antonin. “We wait, and see if they will fray. And we cannot march on them anyway until spring.”
High Priestess Luca leans forward. “The parade for Mirabella will ease these concerns. Flaunting her will show the rebels there are two queens to fear, and her usefulness against the mist will increase your popularity.”
“This is a mistake.” Lucian Arron shakes his head.
“Cousin Lucian. Lucian,” Katharine corrects herself, since there are no longer two Lucians on the council and it is unnecessary to give him the fondness of the familial title. “We have had spies and soldiers in her shadow since the moment she arrived. She has made no attempt to contact the rebels and no attempt to flee. And even if she were to go, what would it matter? She knows nothing now that she did not before. And we would be no worse off.”
She turns to Bree. “Bree Westwood. What is your opinion? What are your observations of your old friend since she arrived?”
Bree presses her lips together. Whenever the council business has turned to Mirabella, she has remained quiet. Usually with her eyes fixed on her lap, careful to appear neutral.
“She still has love for Arsinoe,” says Bree. “She always will. But she was raised a queen. Her loyalty is to the people and to the crown.” Bree looks at Katharine and arches her eyebrow. “And she is more than a little afraid of you.”
“Flattery,” Lucian mutters.
“Truth,” Bree snaps.
“Enough.” Katharine raises her hand. “If you do not want me to show Mirabella to the people, then what would you have me do with her? House her and feed her in secret in exchange for nothing? What if the mist moves against the city? Should she be kept hidden away until then, so she can come charging out like an unexpected savior?” The corners of her mouth twist down. “Surely, that would do nothing to make the people remember how . . . popular she was.”
“There is something else.” Renata Hargrove clears her throat and demurely places her hand upon the table.
“Renata,” says Katharine. “And what is that?”
“As Genevieve has maintained spies within the rebellion, I have maintained spies elsewhere. Including within Bastian City.”
Genevieve crosses her arms and leans back, eyes narrowed. “You have been in contact with Margaret Beaulin.”
“Until recently, I believed her loyal, despite her dismissal from the Black Council.”
“But that is no longer so?”
“She insists that she is still with us,” says Renata. “But that is not what my spies say. They say she left for Sunpool, with a signed treaty, to declare the city for the rebellion.”
“A signed treaty? Who signed it?”
“The head of every major family of war-gifted.”
Katharine sits, overcome. “How has this happened? How has the crown lost Wolf Spring and Bastian City? At least Mirabella may help us keep Rolanth!”
Rho Murtra slides her palms eagerly across the wood. “We might also march on Bastian.”
“Now?”
“There are no mountains between us. No reason to wait for a spring thaw.”
“No,” Antonin objects. “We should hold our resources until the spring.”
“When the rebels can march from the north and Bastian can flank us with warriors,” Rho says, and lazily reclines. “It is clear that poisoners have led few battles.”
“Because respect for us has kept anyone from rising in the first place,” Antonin hisses, “for the last hundred years!”
“Enough.” Katharine stands, signaling the meeting’s end. “You have all been heard. And now I will consider the options.”
After the Black Council disbands, Katharine retires to the privacy of her rooms in the West Tower.
“Is there anything you need, Queen Katharine?” her maid asks.
“No, Giselle,” she replies. “Not just now. And when you go, please bar the door.”
The loss of Bastian City and the betrayal of Margaret Beaulin are regrettable. But Katharine cannot help but be pleased. She could not have asked for a better solution to fall into her lap.
“Dead sisters,” she whispers to her reflection in her dressing mirror. “Our reign is once again threatened. I would have a word.”
She steps closer as the dead queens rise. Had someone else been watching, they might not have detected the change—a subtle shift in her facial muscles, a tremor in