The Queen's Secret (The Queen's Secret #2) - Melissa de la Cruz Page 0,54

for the creature to find a way through the tumble of stones and burnt wood.

Cal remembers what his father told him of the war against the scheming monks that followed King Esban’s death. Queen Lilianna was in grave danger then too. The Aphrasian rebels wanted to eliminate the entire royal family, including the baby Lilac, Crown Princess and sole heir to the Renovian throne. That time they failed. Maybe this time they’d succeed.

He circles his horse back to face Jander and Rhema. The lingering smoke stings his eyes, and he has to squint to get a good look at them. One of Rhema’s legs is still bandaged from her encounter with the beast at the abbey, but she hasn’t complained once, even when they removed the splint so she could mount her horse for the journey back here. She’s tough, Cal thinks. And maybe she came too close to losing her life—so close that she’s a little chastened now. Fighting in the castle yard is not quite the same as taking on a magical creature with claws like knives, and teeth as sharp as swords.

“We can’t stay here long,” he says, and draws his horse closer to theirs so he doesn’t have to shout. Smoke rises like steam around them, pelted by the cold rain. “There’s nothing we can do but organize the recovery squads and any parts of buildings that remain standing.”

“Didn’t the queen want you to investigate?” Rhema asks, wincing and shifting in her saddle. It’s been a long, cold ride to get here.

“We’ll talk inside,” Cal says in a low voice, leaning toward them. The main entrance to the palace is still intact, though above it the higher stories have burned through to a charcoal-and-stone skeleton, and the charred great doors that Cal stepped through a week earlier are wide-open, revealing what’s left of the sweeping staircase. They ride their horses in, the animals negotiating the outside stairs—slick with rain and ash—with some difficulty. He never thought the day would come when he’d ride into Violla Ruza rather than walk. The marble floors are smutty and cracked. Rain falls through a jagged hole in the ceiling, and Cal can hear crows cawing and swooping overhead.

“Look,” Rhema says, nudging her horse farther into the cavernous space. She’s pulled down her mouth covering: Damp ash is smeared across her face. “The paintings.”

Paintings of royal Renovian ancestors still hang in place, but the canvases are torn and the paint blistered, the faces now unrecognizable. The gilt frames are intact, so it looks as though someone held a flame to each one in turn, making sure each image was destroyed. The effect is eerie.

Jander is shaking his head, his horse stopped. He has one hand pressed to the cloth covering his mouth. They can’t stay in there long, Cal knows. As well as rain, there needs to be a strong wind to carry this foul smoke away.

He follows Rhema along the line of portraits, stopping where she does, in front of the last, hung near a blown-out window. It’s the portrait of King Phras.

The picture is completely unharmed. The gilt frame is yellow as the sun. His sharp face glares out, marred only by drifting ash. It’s been left by whoever burned the palace, whoever took the time to destroy each of these paintings in turn, wiping out the image of every Dellafiore ancestor.

A message from the Aphrasians, Cal thinks. A message of intent.

He pulls on the reins of his horse and wheels away from the painting.

“This is a sideshow,” he tells the others. “We have to go.”

“Go where?” Rhema asks, an edge in her voice. Maybe she thinks they’re returning to the abbey and its underground horrors.

“The queen is on her way to Mont,” Cal says. “The royal families of both kingdoms will be there together, with us away and most of the guard already headed north. We can’t waste time here.”

Rhema turns her horse as well, her face still pinched with pain, but with a new blaze in her eyes that Cal hasn’t seen over the last few days.

“Let’s get these squads organized,” she says. “And then we ride. We can sleep on the horses if we need to.”

Cal manages a grin, but there’s nothing in this burned-out, defiled place to bring anyone any happiness—anyone but Aphrasian rebels, neither dormant nor hidden any longer. He is about to defy an order from Queen Lilianna to investigate the destruction of her palace. But if Cal’s mission in life is to