ornaments had been dotted among the hedges, white and orange and crystal clear.
He heard the clink of armor and footsteps just before two royal guards emerged from beneath an arched trellis wrapped by thick, barren vines.
The queen walked behind the guards, alone, and carrying an elegant wooden staff painted white. Cloaked in vivid dark red, Celedrix was a splash of blood against the white gardens. Her pale face was unpainted. She smiled with strained lips. “Vatta, Charm,” she said, and waved her guards on.
Vatta bowed shallowly, and Charm nodded, loosening his arm so Vatta could more easily go to her mother. The princess kissed Celedrix’s cheek, raising onto her toes. Celedrix said, “Allow me a walk with Prince Charm, my sweet.”
They were given privacy, one of the guards trailing Vatta as she departed and the other moving far enough ahead of Charm and Celedrix so as not to overhear any plain conversation. Charm offered his hand to the queen, and she took it, transferring her staff to her other. He was surprised at the weight she leaned onto him, and realized she’d been using the staff as an aid, not merely a winter accessory. It brought a frown to his face, and Celedrix caught it.
She laughed once. “You seem to be looking at a weak old dog, Charm,” she chided.
Grimacing, Charm apologized and schooled his expression, though a worm of fear burrowed deeper into his heart: she was not even fifty years old, and ought to have decades more strength to her bones. She would have, in the City of All Mothers. To distract himself, he said, “Vatta invited me to your Longest Night vigil. I accepted, though if it is inappropriate I will decline.”
“No, I will be pleased to have you.” She squeezed his wrist with her red-gloved hand. “At my side, where you belong.”
“Must I prepare in any way?”
“No, it is not very spiritual in my reign, I fear. Contemplative and traditional. We will have hot watered wine with orange peels and cinnamon, candied fruit, some pastries, and roasted pig. And our own company.”
“I am sorry Hal will miss it.”
“As am I. It is the only thing she’s never missed of her own accord,” Celedrix said with a soft trace of bitter flavor.
Charm said nothing.
They walked on, Celedrix taking deep, relaxed breaths. She was fine, Charm told himself, simply tired, or an old wound affected her in this bone-chill. “How are you getting on with the barons and lords?” the queen asked him.
“Well.” This was an easy subject. “Friendly with all of them I’ve had the chance to supper with this month. Only Perseria eludes me, but the earl does not come to Lionis anymore in the winter—everyone says so.”
Celedrix nodded. “The cold bothers her hip mightily, and she remains in the warmth of her home.”
“It was an injury from your rebellion?”
“Yes. She suffered the worst of my allies.”
“Perhaps not,” Charm carefully inserted. “Vindomata of Mercia lost her children.”
The queen winced. “So she did.”
“When I shared wine with her, she indicated that had her sons lived, I would not be here.”
“Vindus, her eldest, would have made a fine prince, and eventual king. And won an alliance for Bolinbroke, for me, that would have kept us safe.” Celedrix shook her head. “But it was never a promise I made—I always wanted you, Charm, you know that.”
“Vindomata is behind the stirrings of trouble Hal went to Innis Lear to prevent.” It was only a guess, but he did not speak guesses aloud unless they were backed by much evidence.
“Yes. She stopped talking to me. I should have forced the issue immediately, and now it is too late. What trust we had—trust that had survived years apart, and the distance between here and your homeland—was rubbed too thin because we did not talk.”
“That is why you allowed Hal to go? Instead of staying here and marrying? Our marriage would have aligned many allies to you, and not risked Hal as she is on Innis Lear.”
The queen remained quiet for a moment, staring at the rough line of the shell path before them. Just to their left a glass house rose, its wall of windows frosted with cold, and shadowy green-black inside. To their right was a circular yard of fountains, dry for the season. Replacing the water were glass-and-copper lanterns that when lit at night created the shape of a rose visible from the high balconies of the palace. Celedrix said, “You are correct. Marriage might have solved this moment, put