The Queen's Secret (The Queen's Secret #2) - Melissa de la Cruz Page 0,52

someone must remove Lady Cecilia before she incites the crowd.”

The duke signals to the guards, and I see my own Lady Marguerite with her arms around the sobbing Lady Cecilia, hushing her and attempting to lead her away.

“In addition, we need immediate help from Renovia,” I tell the duke, my voice louder than I intended. “You must send for my aunts. They know how to deal with this black magic.”

“If it is magic—” he begins, and I hold up an imperious hand.

“Clearly it is magic. This is no time for arguments. There are no ‘ifs’ about any of this.”

I wish I could demand the immediate return of Caledon Holt as well, but I don’t dare. Even with Hansen in this pathetic state, trembling with fear and shock, I can’t push it too far. He and the duke might think I’m behind this in some way, using the knowledge I learned from the Guild to summon a demon. All just to get my Chief Assassin back in Mont.

If only.

“Guards!” I say. The duke is just standing there, looking unhappy while the boos and hisses of the people mount around us. So much for his promise to run through anyone who disrespected us with his sword. “Rally to us. Rally to the king!”

The guards hurry into position, forming a barrier around me and Hansen, a walking shield. Hansen is still a quivering wreck. He’s grown up too sheltered, never exposed to anything more dangerous than hunting wild boar in a party of armed men and baying dogs. He’s never had to fight in his life, and he’s never been directly exposed to black magic. I’d feel sorry for him if he wasn’t my idiot husband.

“Hold on to me,” I hiss at him, linking my arm through his and wedging my body against him.

“Didn’t you see . . . didn’t you see . . . ,” he mutters. He’s shaking, and his face is deathly pale. I have to keep him on his feet and moving, even if it means dragging him back to the castle.

“I saw,” I tell him. “Everyone saw. Come on, Hansen, you have to walk. We must get to safety.”

“It wasn’t a dream?” He turns his boyish face toward me, and I feel both impatience and pity. “And you saw?”

“One step, please.” He’s tall, but I’m strong, despite too many days languishing in my chamber recently, pretending to be ill. “Please, Hansen. You’re the king. I’m the queen. We must return to the castle. Now.”

I feel like I’m speaking to a child, and at last Hansen complies, like a little boy agreeing to go to bed. He leans on me and somehow we manage to move, the guards shuffling around us, weapons drawn. The walk back to the drawbridge feels endless—cold, damp, slow. I keep waiting for the noise of the crowd to abate, for their angry boos to fade. But even when we’re in the castle and the portcullis is lowered behind us, I can still hear the rage of our people. Everyone is frightened. Now no one feels safe.

“What’s to be done, Lilac?” Hansen asks me, his earnest tone out of keeping with his usual glib, smug self. He’s lost his swagger and his clothes are a party costume—foolish and out of place—in this more dangerous reality.

“I don’t know.” I’m being honest. At this moment I have no idea what happens next, or what we should do. Wait for reinforcements, I want to tell him. Wait for guidance. Our world here in Mont is shot through with darkness, and none of us in the castle, with all our weapons and horses and arrows, are strong enough to fight it.

The Royal Palace

- Violla Ruza, Renovia -

To Her Majesty the Queen Lilac R,

My darling girl, I am writing in great haste. The messenger is already on his horse, waiting for this letter to be placed in his hand.

Something terrible has happened. Our beloved Violla Ruza palace has been burned to the ground. I was woken late last night, quite overwhelmed by smoke, and taken to Liona Manor as a place of sanctuary. From here I can see smoke hanging like a dark cloud over Serrone. The high turrets are completely gone. The air smells acrid.

I’m told that our citizens in the capital and surrounding villages are confined to their homes, with the royal guard enforcing a curfew. Surely this is the work of the Aphrasians, who grow bolder and more violent by the day. I have summoned Caledon Holt