The Queen's Secret (The Queen's Secret #2) - Melissa de la Cruz Page 0,36

begin a family as soon as possible. We are delighted with this news.”

“Delighted!” the duke shouts, and Daffran jumps with fright at the noise of it.

“That is why it’s essential that you remain in your chambers and venture no more to the chapel or the yard, anywhere you can be intercepted or attacked.”

“You wish me to remain inside?” I can’t believe my ears.

“It is getting quite cold,” says Lord Burley, who always avoids discomfort. “It is much worse for you to be out of doors, with the rough soldiers—”

“And the gray monk!” Daffran interjects.

“And . . . anyway . . . I have quite lost my train of thought.” Lord Burley scowls at the scribe.

“The point is,” the Duke of Auvigne says, his tone wheedling, “that we are all eager, including the king, for Your Majesty the Queen to be well-protected at this difficult time. An heir means the cementing of our alliance. Just what the two kingdoms need at this difficult time.”

Difficult time seems to be the saying of the day, I think, fuming. They’re using the death of my priest to keep me in my chambers, a virtual prisoner.

“Rest assured,” booms the duke, back to his usual domineering form, “that the Small Council vows to ensure nothing disturbs or threatens Your Majesties. Guards at the castle and outside your personal residences will be doubled. We will all be waiting—”

“For the captain of the guard to conduct his investigation,” I say. They smile at me, patronizing, as though I were a little girl.

“For the happy news of an heir,” says Lord Burley.

“They want to lock us in together until a child is produced? This is insupportable,” I say. “What of the . . . what of the Winter Races? His Majesty will not allow those festivities to be canceled, however difficult the times may be. The people of Mont would resent any such curtailment of their annual pleasures and pastimes. And I cannot be locked in the castle if my husband attends a public event. It would look very bad to our people.”

“Quite right,” agrees Lord Burley. “An exception can be made for the races—don’t you think, Auvigne?”

“If only by then we had happy news to share with the people of Mont,” the duke says. He gives me that nasty teeth-baring grin again. “What a celebration that would be!”

“It would be far too soon to make such a delicate matter public!” I snap.

“So, we are not to discuss the gray monk anymore?” asks Daffran, and the duke gestures for him to be silent.

“The investigation has begun, as Her Majesty indicated,” he says. “And now she and the king will turn their attention to happier matters. Their immediate attention.”

Whatever strange battle we’re fighting in here, I think I’ve lost.

Chapter Fifteen

Caledon

Rhema is almost out of sight, her auburn hair a flash of color in the foggy gray of the marshes. Cal is impressed with her energy, as well as her tracking skills. Even Jander seems impressed with her Guild training. Rhema may have told the aunts that she’s a fighter rather than a tracker, and not skilled in nature the way Jander is, but now he sees that she was being modest. It’s impossible not to admire the way she’s able to listen to the earth, to read signs that are invisible to most other people. Despite her overabundance of energy, she’s extremely intelligent, and now she seems to be talking less, asking fewer questions. Perhaps the prospect of a showdown with Aphrasians at Baer Abbey is preoccupying her. They’ll all have to have their wits about them.

It takes Cal and Jander a half hour to catch up with her. Rhema wastes no time: She’s tethered and wiped down her horse; built a fire on a small patch of dry ground, near a stand of old trees; and is gathering wood—kindling and logs for the fire and longer branches for a makeshift shelter. The night fogs here are damp. Usually they stretch animal skins over a basic twig frame to keep dry while they sleep.

“You two are the slowest riders,” she grumbles, dumping a bundle of kindling on the ground. Jander’s still tending to the horses, the thing he likes doing best. When he’s finished, he’ll sniff out a spring so they have fresh water. Cal doesn’t need to tell him; Jander knows what to do.

“No reason to get stuck in a bog,” Cal says. He pulls out his ax to split some of the longer branches. “We know this region