times she’d lost still haunted her nightmares.) It was here she’d first learned about E∂ians, how they’d been persecuted for centuries, and that the gift typically ran in families, though neither she nor Edward had been blessed with an animal form. Edward, and everyone else, might have been frightened of his father’s second form, but Jane had always been jealous of her mother’s (very secret) magic.
Did Lady Frances know about Gifford? She was outspoken in her dislike of E∂ians (in spite of being one herself), so maybe no one had told her, assuming she wouldn’t approve the match otherwise. (Few people realized just how desperate Lady Frances was to marry off her daughter. She’d have married Jane to a tree stump if it had been allowed.)
Jane sighed and wandered toward the selection of books on horses: feeding, caring for, history, anatomy, potential illnesses, and how to braid a tail.
She spent a few hours lost in old texts describing the process of driving the nail through the shoe and hoof, the importance of equine companionship, and the necessity of grooming not just the fur, mane, and tail, but picking rocks out of the hooves as well. Furthermore, what to do if the hoof was split.
Fortunately Billingsly was probably responsible for all that, and maybe Gifford didn’t need shoes, as he likely didn’t want iron nailed into his bare feet when he transformed every evening. She’d have to ask.
By noon, Edward had not emerged from his chambers and Jane was getting hungry. She put away the books and returned to the stairwell. The same two guards were on duty. “Has the king awakened?” she asked.
“I’m afraid His Majesty is not taking visitors today.” Unibrow Guard didn’t break his stance.
Jane scowled. “He will see me. Tell him that Lady Jane—” She stopped. Her name was Lady Jane Dudley now. Jane Dudley. Terrible. She swallowed hard. “Tell him that his cousin Jane wishes to speak with him.”
“The orders are that he sees no one today.”
“Go up and ask if he will see me. Because he will.” Jane crossed her arms and leaned her weight on one hip. “I’ll wait right here.”
“No one is allowed to see the king today, my lady. If he wants to see you, he’ll send for you.”
Jane bristled. “This is ridiculous. You must allow me to see him immediately. There won’t be any problem, you’ll see.”
“My lady, if you continue to insist, we will call for someone to escort you out of the palace.”
Her face was hot with anger. How dare they block her from seeing her cousin?
Unless . . .
Unless Edward was getting worse and had ordered himself into isolation, but why would he isolate himself from her?
As she left the palace—without an escort—she decided to write a letter to him.
She stopped just before entering her carriage and glanced up at the turret.
A silhouette filled the top-floor window for a moment. Edward? Before her return to Bradgate Park, she’d have recognized the shape of her cousin anywhere, but now he’d grown so thin she couldn’t tell if the shadow had been him or not.
She stepped into her carriage and drove away.
Jane spent the afternoon in Chelsea, avoiding her mother’s questions as Adella and a handful of maids packed for the honeymoon. She’d written a few notes, had the letter to Edward sent out, and then took an hour to decide which fifty books she would bring to the country. They’d be there for weeks, and she wanted to be prepared for a lot of quality alone time. Apparently Gifford would be spending his days as a horse, and thus useless for company.
Maybe that was all right.
A little before dusk, she took a carriage back to Durham House and returned to Gifford’s bedchambers. He was still in horse form, sleeping, as far as she could tell. The bed had been moved to one side, and in the corner sat a cold pile of, well, the expected result of a large animal being trapped inside a room all day. She pressed a handkerchief to her nose and opened the window to air out the stink, then went to the wardrobe, where she found a shirt and trousers.
She lit a few candles, and then sat on the bed to wait while the sun fell toward the horizon.
Last time, the change had been sudden, just a burst of light she hadn’t expected, and when she’d finished blinking away the sparks, her husband had been a horse.