The Queen's Secret (The Queen's Secret #2) - Melissa de la Cruz Page 0,16

agreed . . . well, somehow we agreed to keep our lives separate in private, and in public put on a good show. Smiles and waves and such. And that was working. Until it stopped working. Now we have to put a stop to the things that are being said about you.”

“Isn’t that why the soldiers are training outside?” I say, waving my hand at the window.

Hansen twists his face. “Soldiers can’t kill beliefs or rumors. And anyway, from what I hear, these boys are hopeless. They’ll march north and be killed at once by black snow or whatever it is. One crack of lightning and they’ll all fall over. But ten armies won’t change people’s minds about you being in league with the Aphrasians.”

I hate to admit it, but Hansen is making sense. With one hand I grip the edge of the shutter pulled back from the window, in part to steady myself for whatever he’s going to say next.

“The Small Council wants to see us,” he tells me.

“Since when do you care what the Small Council wants?” I snap. Hansen can barely be bothered to attend meetings. I usually go alone. Now he looks hurt.

“I’m not completely oblivious, whatever you may think. I can listen to sense. My whole life, I’ve lived here, either in Mont or at the summer residence in the mountains. Everywhere I’ve gone in the kingdom—villages, towns, shepherds’ huts, fishermen’s cottages, grand manor houses, you name it!—I’ve been loved. Everyone has always loved me.”

I believe him. He’s a handsome young man, and was no doubt a handsome boy. He was the heir and then a young king, and for all his dull predictability and obsession with dogs and hunting, Hansen doesn’t have a cruel bone in his body.

He’s pacing now as well, playing with one of the ornate rings on his fingers. “Now we ride out together and I’m despised.” He shakes his head, as though he can’t believe it.

“It’s not you they loathe,” I say.

“No, I suppose not,” he says thoughtfully. “They think you’re still harboring the Aphrasians in that damp, mysterious country of yours.”

“But that is not true!” I protest.

“It doesn’t matter what’s true or not. We know that, don’t we? Our marriage hasn’t been ‘true’—not for almost a year now. That’s why the Duke of Auvigne says, and I agree, that it’s time to put the kingdom first.”

“Kingdoms plural.” I can’t resist correcting him. I’ve never heard Hansen talk like this. Usually he says that the Duke of Auvigne is a bore. This is the longest conversation we’ve ever had.

“Exactly. We have a duty to our joint kingdoms, however unpleasant it might be. To us.”

I can’t speak. I don’t want Hansen to say another word. I don’t want to hear what he’s about to say, the thing I’ve always dreaded. And yet I know he must.

“Lilac, I am as sorry as you are that it has come to this. Perhaps, like you, I had hoped we could continue this way forever. But an heir will tell the world that we’re a real marriage, a real union, and there is nothing to fear from their queen, as she is the mother of my child.”

He doesn’t look at me when he says this, which is a blessing, as I’m too shocked to reply. I knew this day would come—but not so soon. Not today.

“It will send a strong message through the kingdom that I support you and that our two kingdoms will be united forever through our heir. Or heirs, if we have more than one child, and it is hoped that we shall. Several children will mean more possible alliances through marriage. We can secure the futures of our kingdoms, and all the kingdoms in Avantine.”

Deia, give me strength. Hansen is still talking. The Duke of Auvigne must have blasted him for hours about this. I clutch the shutter for strength. No, no, no. This can’t be happening. Hansen can’t be going back on all his promises to me. He said we could wait. He said there was no hurry. He said he would never ask me for something I did not want to give.

“So that’s why . . . ,” he says, walking to the fireplace and leaning against the mantel. “That’s why . . . I’ve agreed to cast aside Cecilia. Lady Cecilia.”

His current favorite, the one who giggles too loudly and wears black-feathered masks that scandalize the castle servants. Hansen doesn’t need to say the word mistress for me