Viscount Rohan.”
The king grips the arms of his throne. “You are questioning my choice for governor?”
“Sire, may I remind you that before you left Brittany, we had already decided upon a governor.”
“I changed my mind.” His words are those of a defiant child who knows he has cheated.
“And I have learned from painful experience that Viscount Rohan cannot be trusted and sent the captain to report back on his activities. It is a good thing, too. It appears I was right.”
The king’s face flushes with anger. “I did not give you leave to do so.”
To her credit, the queen merely meets his gaze steadily. “Our marriage contract did.”
The silence in the room crystallizes into something brittle. “That same contract binds you to me as wife, binds you to my orders, my decisions. It gives you no power to act as your own sovereign power.”
“Then tell me, Your Majesty, what was I to do? Every time I tried to speak to you of Brittany, you turned your back. You did not want to discuss politics or governing with your wife, a wife who has been involved in politics since she was four. A wife who has governed since she was twelve. A wife who brought one of the most valuable dowries in Europe. I could not sit by and risk that some pompous noble’s scheming would take that from us. So I sent someone I trusted to scout out the situation and report back. And here he is.”
The king shakes his head, still trying to dislodge his disbelief. “I gave you no leave.”
“Sire, if I suspected a noble to be working against his king, how could I not act? What loyal subject could stand by and let such a thing happen?”
This, finally, gets through, and the king’s face grows less fraught. I want to cheer for the queen’s wit at finding this one small crack to slip inside.
“Your Majesty.” General Cassel’s voice rumbles into the silence of the room, breaking the fragile truce the queen’s words have wrought. “While it is true that the queen, being a woman, did not know the enormous disservice she did you by overruling your wishes, of a certainty, her captain did.” His cold blue eyes fix upon Beast as he slowly walks toward him. “You knew you did not have the king’s permission, else you would not have snuck into the stables like a thief in the night.”
Beast keeps his stony gaze affixed to the wall, refusing to look into the face of the man—his father—who is accusing him of treason. “I am captain of the queen’s guard and serve at her pleasure, by permission of His Majesty himself.”
General Cassel whips his head back around to the king. “You gave him such permission?”
The king is scowling in memory. “I gave him permission to lead the queen’s guard, but only when my own was not available.”
“And they were not available for this.” Beast’s voice is deeper than Cassel’s, and even though it has a rougher edge, his words are more polished.
Cassel’s face grows red. “You are playing word games. You know your authority comes direct from the king, not his lady wife.”
Beast does look at Cassel then. “My lord,” he rumbles, the threat in his voice clear to all. “You will address our queen with respect.”
Cassel takes a step closer. “Or what?”
Beast doesn’t move, but somehow seems to grow even larger, taking up more space in the room. “Or you will dishonor both her and our king and be forced to make amends.”
Cassel clenches his jaw so tightly that I feel my hand begin to drift to my knives, unsure what he intends to do. Unsure if the king will—or can—stop him, I take a step forward. “Your Majesty, mayhap it would help the queen understand what is happening in Brittany if you would share with her your reasons for appointing Viscount Rohan as governor.”
General Cassel shifts his attention from Beast to me. “Are you suggesting the king needs to explain himself to anyone?”
“Not anyone. His queen, who was granted a certain amount of autonomy in overseeing her former duchy.” I smile playfully. “Are you married, general? If so, you would understand that the surest way to a harmonious marriage is trust.”
“No,” he grinds out. “I am not married.”
“Oh?” I ask, feigning coyness. “Is that why you followed me into the stable, then?”
Beast grows rigid even as the general looks discomfited.
“How did you come to choose Viscount Rohan, my lord?” The queen’s question is perfectly timed