The Queen's Secret (The Queen's Secret #2) - Melissa de la Cruz Page 0,41
dark shape twisting in my fire. “But if obsidian is ground, it won’t create a powder, will it? Or a poison.”
“If magic is involved,” Varya says, “anything is possible. Now, I should go, and you should return to bed. Too long a visit from me will raise suspicion among your ladies.”
She stands, smoothing the dark folds of her gown. Nobody is supposed to stand before I do, but I like that she treats me as a fellow member of the Guild.
“Would you . . . ,” I begin, not even sure of what I’m asking. “Would you . . .”
“Get word to your aunts? Of course, Your Majesty.”
“I worry that if I write to them, the letter will be intercepted and read.” I stand up, too, and draw my shawl around me. “I really don’t know who to trust in this castle, and certainly I feel I can trust no one in Montrice beyond the walls.”
Varya smiles at me, and I can see that she pities me.
“I see,” she says. “Safer for me to carry word to your aunts of this Obsidian Monk than an official missive from you. I’ll work out a way to do this. Don’t worry.”
“I really need their advice,” I tell her, and now that I’m disconnected from Varya’s hot touch, I feel shivery and almost tearful. Being near a wise woman from the Guild reminds me of the women I love and miss.
Varya drapes the lilac cloak about her, and waits while I climb back into bed. I have to resume my invalid’s posture: It’s my only weapon at the moment. She opens the door and I hear her speak, followed by Lady Marguerite’s voice. The door closes again and I am alone.
It’s such a relief to meet someone who knows my aunts. Someone who actually saw my parents get married. Renovia seems so far away—and with it my mother and my aunts. Cal. Everyone I love most in the world is there at this moment, and I’m stuck here, alone, in Montrice. I can’t see a way out of any of this, especially when the figure of a dark monk dances in the flames of my fire, taunting me, taunting us all.
Chapter Seventeen
Lilac
Two days after Varya’s visit, I’m rigid with boredom. I can’t stand being cooped up. It’s bad enough to be confined while actually sick, let alone when just pretending. I’m itching to take some exercise and practice shooting or fighting—anything but idling away one dim winter’s day after another.
When one of my ladies flutters in to warn me that the Duke of Auvigne is approaching, I’m practicing spear thrusts by the fire. Since Varya’s visit, I haven’t seen the apparition in the flames again or heard any more about the shard of obsidian discovered in the chapel. When I asked for the physician to visit, he told me that no progress had been made with identifying the substance that killed Father Juniper.
Somehow I know that the duke is not visiting me to discuss the ongoing investigation.
There’s not much time to strike my usual invalid’s pose, and I have to dash to get to my bed. I lean back on the soft linen of my pillows, hoping my cheeks aren’t too flushed with exertion. I’ve managed to kick the spear under my bed, and even if the duke spies it, I hope he’ll assume I keep it there in case I get attacked in the night, not because I like to rehearse my own attacking skills.
After the usual bowing and false, impatient inquiries into my well-being, the duke gets to the point.
“It has never been more important, Your Majesty, than it is now, with so many questions about the future of our kingdom—our joint realms, of course—and so many doubts about the security of our villages, not to mention the safety of your own person and the person of the king—”
I can’t take any more of this waffle. “What has never been more important, Auvigne? Please get to the point.”
He looks surprised at my question and indignant at the interruption.
“I mean the Winter Races, of course. I mean, Your Majesty.” Another bow of the head, probably to hide his irritation.
“The horse races?” I ask. I have to pretend I don’t really care about them, because anything that looks like pleasure for me ends up being taken away or canceled. And I don’t really care about them, of course. When I first heard about them, I told Hansen they’d be more pleasant if they