The Queen's Secret (The Queen's Secret #2) - Melissa de la Cruz Page 0,30
Baer Abbey. Is this where Cal is drawn in Renovia? Is this where my mother will send him? Nothing good can happen in such a place.
My days seem so empty now that I can’t look forward to holding Cal in the quiet hours of darkness. Rain falls in the courtyard, turning the dirt between flagstones to mud. Some of the recruits have already begun to march north, and more have taken their place in the impromptu training ground. The mornings are loud with their shouts and moans.
I’m in such low spirits that Lady Marguerite suggests I return to the chapel to see Father Juniper. Maybe he can give me wise counsel again, though he’s unlikely to have another message from Cal. The messenger sent to Serrone has yet to return, and the Duke of Auvigne is sure he never will. Montricians like to think of Renovia as wild and dangerous. The duke would be amazed if he was to see our palace there, a place of beauty and refinement. Maybe there’d be less swagger in his step if he realized the sophistication of old Renovia.
Even my ladies are flagging, feeling the damp in their bones in this castle, swishing along behind me with little enthusiasm. It must be cold for them, sitting outside the chapel to wait for me, on those hard benches with no fireplace to warm them. I won’t be long today, I tell them. I’ll just spend a little time sitting with Father Juniper, hoping for peace of mind.
The usual herbal scent is missing from the chapel, as though it’d been closed up since I last visited. The taper is unlit. This is not like Father Juniper.
I sit on the bench and wait. Usually the priest is alerted to my presence by the sound of the great door opening and closing, but today he doesn’t appear. Time passes in frigid silence. I don’t want to call for him: This is a place of silence and quiet contemplation, not for an imperious queen summoning her servant.
I walk over to the small arched door to the vestry and place a gloved hand on it. At first I can’t see any kind of handle, but on closer inspection I spot a narrow rail, also whitewashed. I was right about this door: It’s solid and heavy, and I have to push hard to make it budge.
It opens with only the slightest of clicks, as I expect. Father Juniper always seems to emerge into the chapel without making any fuss. I never hear him scraping back his chair, or clearing his throat.
The room is cold, of course, because no fire is ever lit there. I expect to see Father Juniper sitting in his chair, hunched over a manuscript, or maybe even bundled up and dozing on this gloomy, wet day. But he’s not there. When I push the door farther, it sticks on something. I have to wriggle into the room in order to step inside.
Not something, I see in a glance, but someone. Father Juniper lies faceup on the flagstones, his body still. Not moving, not breathing.
I drop to my knees and press my head to his bony chest, but I know from a glance that he’s dead, and has been dead for some hours. His thin hands are stiff and frozen, and his mouth is wide-open, green eyes staring. There’s a chalky blackness around his mouth, some kind of powder. When I bend to sniff it, there’s no odor. It’s not ink. It’s not ash. But I don’t dare investigate any further. Dear Father Juniper is dead, and I don’t know why there’s a strange powder on his stark white face.
I try to hold one of his hands, but they’re too rigid now, not to mention cold. I want to sit there, sobbing in this freezing room, but that will do no good at all. I learned a long time ago that tears don’t save lives. All they do is blur your vision. So I drag myself up and hurry back through the chapel. For once, my ladies can be useful. They can summon more guards, and fetch the court physician. They can send messages to the king and every member of the Small Council, to tell them that death has visited Castle Mont.
* * *
The court physician is named Martyn, and he’s as round as Father Juniper was lean. He crouches by the body, sniffing at it like a cat who’s caught the scent of a bird. His flowing