The Oracle Queen (Three Dark Crowns #0.1) - Kendare Blake Page 0,19
saying. Gilbert would never harm her. Her gift was sacred to him. And he was her foster brother. Her only family. “There must be an explanation.”
“Of course.”
“And my gift is not gone,” she said, lowering her voice. “I had a vision, not long ago. Well, not a vision, I suppose. But a dream.”
“A dream? Is that common?”
“No. But it has proven true, and that is all that matters.” She watched him from the corner of her eye. “I dreamed of you, Jonathan Denton. I knew you before we met.”
INDRID DOWN
When Rosamund opened the door to her family home, she found Catherine Howe, her head covered by a dark hood.
“Is the maid here already?” Catherine asked as Rosamund motioned for her to come inside.
“She is. Though we didn’t expect you to be so quick.”
Catherine took her hood down and shook out her pretty brown-gold curls. “When someone asks for information from the Howe spies, it is never long in coming.”
“Very well,” said Rosamund. “Bess is waiting down this way.”
They had taken only a few steps when three little girls ran squealing past, batting at each other with small wooden swords, and knocked Catherine up against the wall. They were so frenzied and focused on their battle play that they clogged the narrow hall, and Rosamund had to scoop up the smallest one and put her on her shoulders in order to let them pass.
“My apologies,” Rosamund said, and then laughed as the little girl beat her about the head with the wooden sword butt. “It is often this way in an Antere house.”
Catherine squinted up at the little girl as she bashed Rosamund’s skull. “Doesn’t that hurt?”
“A little.” Rosamund reached up and prodded the child in the ribs until she surrendered in peals of laughter. Once they cleared the hall, the girl slipped down and tore off in the other direction to rejoin the game. Rosamund gestured through a doorway. Inside, Bess was already waiting, seated at a table before a bottle of whiskey and three cups.
“Shouldn’t you close the door?” Catherine asked, looking behind them.
“Are you so afraid of a few little warriors?” Rosamund chuckled. “Never mind about the door. My mother is resting and my brothers are deep into a card game in the kitchen with their wives. And besides, all are loyal.”
“To you or to the queen?”
“To both,” Rosamund said, her voice sharp. “So we may speak freely.”
“Sit, Catherine,” Bess said, and poured her a cup. “Take some to ease your nerves. Or would you prefer wine?”
Rosamund placed her hand on Bess’s shoulder and planted her in her chair. “You sit. You are not a serving maid here, Bess, but a member of a ring of spies.”
Bess exhaled and pressed her cheek against the warrior’s fingers. “I know that. But we should still make her feel at ease. She is quite distressed.”
“I’ve noticed.” Every candle in the room had been burning higher since Catherine entered. And having known Catherine since even before her time on the Black Council, Rosamund knew that her talent was for the element of earth. She must be nervous indeed to affect the flames so.
“Come now, Catherine. You can’t have found anything that troubling over the course of so few days!”
Catherine’s lips pressed together. “But I have. And it was not only over the last few days. My spies have been moving for months.”
“Months?” Bess gasped. “But why?”
“We elementals are better at detecting shifting sentiments upon the air,” Catherine replied. “Since I came to the Black Council, I have always kept a bird or two circling. I would always know what is being said of the queen.”
Rosamund drank and refilled her cup. “And what is being said?”
“At first, that the queen was frivolous. Changeable. That she did not listen to her advisers, which in truth, she does not often.”
“The queen follows her own mind,” Rosamund snapped.
“Yes. In everything. And it has not gone unnoticed. The people, and the Black Council, have become accustomed to war queens, who command raids and battle and leave the governance to those better suited to it. Elsabet has taken some of that back.”
“Is that not her right as queen?” Bess asked.
“Whether it is her right or not, it has embittered the council. I suspect that someone has been planting rumors amongst the people of the queen’s foolishness. I even suspect that the king-consort may have a role to play, driving her to jealous outbursts in public.”
“To what end?” Rosamund asked. “To make her unpopular?”
“To undermine her. I do not