The Queen's Secret (The Queen's Secret #2) - Melissa de la Cruz Page 0,8

down in new boots.

“What’s going on?” I ask Lady Marguerite. She’s slight and fair, with a face that’s always worried—certainly not the prettiest of the ladies-in-waiting. But although she’s the youngest of the group, she’s the most astute, the most political. She always seems to know more than the others about what’s going on in other parts of the castle.

“Your Majesty,” she says, “I believe the men are training to march north. To the border with Stavin, and also to our own northern lands where . . .”

She trails off, and I nod. Around me, nobody likes to talk about what happened in Stur.

“They seem so young,” I say. Most of the recruits look like farm lads, pulled from working the harvest. They have ruddy faces and broad shoulders, but they’re sure to be more adept at handling a pitchfork than a sword.

“Many soldiers are required for the two missions,” Lady Marguerite says. “And we must maintain a strong guard here, of course, to protect Your Majesties.”

“It’s a fine day for marching about,” one of the other ladies says. “Isn’t it?”

The speaker may be a dull woman who only ever trots out platitudes, but on this occasion, she’s quite right. I can’t spend another day sitting indoors. It’s fine outside, despite the chill of late autumn. Who knows how soon the snows of winter will fall?

“Ladies,” I say, standing up. “I’ve decided that I need some fresh air.”

“You wish to promenade around the courtyard?” Lady Marguerite sounds alarmed.

“Tell the Guild master I wish to train this morning. Outside,” I correct her. “Please convey my request to the assassins’ quarters and tell them I will be ready soon.”

“But the courtyard is so crowded,” one of the other ladies protests. “All these country oafs! You don’t wish to be on display, Your Majesty.”

Actually, I do. But I’m not telling them that. It’s not a bad thing for the people of Mont—the people inside the castle, at least—to see me in fighting mode, and remember that I’m more than some ornamental prize Hansen has won from Renovia. I’m a trained Guild member, and anyone who seeks to harm me will find a fighter, not a spoiled pet. In the Guild we learn how to fight, track, and live by our wits, as well as to understand the natural world—its rhythms, its hidden messages. Being a member of the Guild means staying active in mind and body. I’m not going to rot in this castle while dark magic swirls through the kingdom, implicating me in its evil.

While one lady hurries away to find me a Guild trainer for an impromptu session, the others deal with peeling back the layers of my clothing and fetching more suitable garments from the heavy oak chest under the window. It’s a relief to replace the flowing yards of embroidered wool with hide leggings and a tunic. My ladies wrap leather protectors around my forearms and help me lace my favorite deerskin boots. I feel a crackle of pleasure, a happy anticipation about being outside again and moving freely.

“Are you sure?” my ladies keep asking me. What they mean is, are you sure about appearing this way in public, dressed as a fighter rather than the queen? I ignore such concerns. How can I explain to them that the only time I feel alive is when I’m not acting like the queen?

There’s so much I can’t say to them. They’re not my friends, or even my allies. At least one of them, I suspect, is paid by the Duke of Auvigne to relay information.

“If His Majesty should visit?” Lady Marguerite says, lifting my jerkin from the chest. It’s not really a question. She’s formulating a plan about what Hansen should be told.

“The king knows full well that I train every afternoon with a Guild member. He will be pleased that I am getting fresh air, instead of cowering up here like a ninny.”

Firstly, I don’t think for a moment that Hansen will visit me. He’s too busy cowering in his own chambers. And the longer I sit here, the more my fevered imagination will start conjuring unhelpful scenarios. What is Hansen being told—and by whom? Does he believe this story of the lilac frost in Stur? Does he think I might actually be involved in the black magic there? What if he’s persuaded to renounce me and annul our marriage? This could throw our countries into war. But what if he feels he has no choice, because Stavin threatens