Jander.”
“Well, that’s that.” Hansen sounds pleased. “Everything is settled. Take the best horses in the royal stables. Ride out in the morning. I’ve already sent a messenger, to the queen mother in Serrone, to send word that you’re on your way.”
“You have?” Lord Burley looks astonished.
“Yes,” Hansen says, pink in the face. “I sent someone immediately after my conversation this afternoon with Queen Lilac. My wife.”
He gestures to her at the other end of the table, in case anyone was in doubt about her identity. Lilac stares back at him as though in a daze.
“You should have sent two messengers,” the duke mutters. “Or even three. It’s a damned dangerous road and Renovia itself is one giant sinkhole, from what I can gather. Holt, ready yourself for the journey. There’ll be coin for you, of course. And any other provisions you need. You’ll be gone for some months, I expect.”
Some months. The words hit Cal like a sock to the gut.
“And by the time you return,” Lord Burley says, a fake smile plastered over his cunning old face, “you will bring us good news, and we will have good news of our own here in Mont.”
“Sir?” Cal doesn’t understand what he’s getting at.
“Why, an heir, of course.” The Duke of Auvigne is smiling as well. When he bares his teeth this way, he looks like an animal rounding on its prey. “Their Majesties have just told us that they plan to start a family. By this summer we hope to have an heir to the thrones of Montrice and Renovia.”
“And the Aphrasians squashed at last,” adds Lord Burley. Cal feels as though he’s just been punched. Their Majesties have just told us. When was Lilac planning to tell him?
“All as it should be,” Hansen says, pushing back his chair. “All as it should be. My dear?”
He gestures to Lilac, and she rises slowly. The members of the Small Council stumble and scrape, hurrying to stand. Hansen is on his feet as well, waiting for her to process around the table—the far side of the table from Cal, never meeting his eye. Then she takes Hansen’s arm and they leave the room, heads high, the model of an imperial couple.
The three members of the Small Council take their chairs again, but Cal remains standing, glued to the spot. He’s to be sent away on a long and dangerous mission. Lilac and Hansen will be sharing a bed, and begetting a child.
Their secret nights are over. Reality has set in. Lilac is the queen, and she has a duty to perform. He understood that the day she decided to marry Hansen—and save Cal’s life. She made a huge sacrifice so Cal could live.
But now it feels like too high a price to pay. Today’s meeting of the Small Council reminded Cal that he will always be nothing but the queen’s servant—the assassin. He must obey orders. The day she was married, Lilac’s allegiance was bound to another man. Cal’s been a fool, pretending his intimacy with the queen would continue indefinitely.
They made promises to each other, pledged their hearts, but in reality there is nothing that keeps them together but a small key to a secret room.
His duty is to go where the Small Council sends him. And Lilac’s duty is to her realm—and her husband.
Chapter Eight
Lilac
I’m not certain that Cal will visit tonight. So much time passes after my ladies retire that it seems unlikely he’ll seek me out. Perhaps he’s leaving so early there’s no time to waste: He must prepare for the journey.
But he can’t possibly consider leaving without saying goodbye. Without one last night in my arms. Can he?
Out on the battlements the watchmen give the call for midnight. I climb out of bed and walk to the window, gazing up at the moon. It appears and then disappears behind tumbling gray clouds. The good weather of autumn is gone, I think. Perhaps yesterday was the last day of sunshine. Mont in winter has steel skies and too much rain.
Renovia will be foggy, I realize, and its winter mists will settle on Cal’s skin like a layer of slime. This is the worst possible season to be undertaking a mission. But I do understand that there’s little time to waste, when the Aphrasians seem to be so rampant.
And Hansen wants Cal out of the way, so there are no questions about the paternity of a royal heir. I shudder at the very thought. I could send another letter