The Queen's Secret (The Queen's Secret #2) - Melissa de la Cruz Page 0,90

long time, even when he and Jander and Rhema were camping out in Renovia in the freezing rain.

Someone bangs on the door and Cal springs to his feet: He lay down before dawn fully dressed, not even bothering to take off his boots, knowing they could come for him anytime.

“Chief!” It’s Rhema’s voice. He opens the door and squints at her. She looks tired as well.

“I don’t think I’m going to be Chief Assassin much longer,” he tells her, and she shrugs.

“You know, when we went on the road, I thought we got up early. But these castle courtiers—what is wrong with them? A moment after dawn the king gets a visit from that old duke, the one with the gravy stains on his tunic.”

“The Duke of Auvigne.”

“That’s the one. He’s on his way.”

“To see me?”

“He wants you to rally the apprentices. We have an outing today, apparently—all of us.”

“But—but—” Cal stammers. He has no idea how much Rhema knows, or doesn’t know, about Hansen bursting in on him and Lilac that fateful night.

“Just play along, won’t you?” Rhema says, a wariness in her eyes. “Who knows what’s going on. We’ll work it out.”

Cal doesn’t understand what Rhema means, but there’s no time. He can hear the Duke of Auvigne making his way across the yard, barking orders at guards. He pulls on a jacket and steps into the stables. Rhema ducks behind a stall and disappears. She clearly has no desire to listen to the duke anymore.

“There you are, Holt,” says the duke, sniffing as though the stables are too foul-smelling for his delicate nose. “Glad to see you’re up and ready.”

“Ready for what, may I ask, sir?” Cal hopes he sounds polite and obedient. He’s antagonized enough people already.

“You won’t know this, as you’re from wherever it is,” the duke says, hands on hips, legs astride. “Renovia, yes? Of course. But today is a special day in the Montrician calendar. On this day every winter the monarch rides out to a small village called Chana in the foothills. There’s a ceremony about breaking ice in a well—all a nonsense, you see—but it’s symbolic, about the coming of spring, and so on.”

“I see,” Cal says, stifling a yawn.

“Well, it wasn’t going to happen. Not with that business with the king and queen being disparaged in public, and the stories going around about the queen and black magic. But now it can. We sent out town criers to announce the news about destroying the Aphrasians and winning the war and whatnot. All about the queen firing the fateful flaming arrow into the heart of the beast. Excellent stuff.”

Cal bows his head in agreement.

“So a midwinter ritual today is timely. Get Their Majesties out there to receive the accolades and gratitude of their people. Break a bit of ceremonial ice. Herald a new year and bold new era, and so on. Good for public morale. Good for the king and queen.”

“The assassins will be ready.”

“Glad to hear it. We need full security detail and everyone looking sharp. No reason for any trouble today, but best be wary. We’ll set off as soon as Their Majesties are ready.”

The duke stomps off, and Cal stands watching him. He’s always wary, he wants to say. Wary of what might happen. Today he’ll protect the king and queen, and worry about his own fate later. We’ll work it out—that’s what Rhema said. It’s an odd turn of phrase. Assassins are asked to work things out, to unpick mysteries, and to hunt down people who don’t want to be found. But working out their own fate has never been possible.

Get through today, Cal tells himself, and worry about tomorrow afterward.

Chapter Forty

Lilac

I can’t help but be nervous about this first trip out of Mont. Our last attempt to visit a village was disastrous. Things have changed now—we know that. But do the people of Montrice know? The duke sent out dozens of messengers not long after the Tyrant King’s defeat, but I’m not sure if they’ll believe all that they’re told.

The village of Chana isn’t a long ride from Mont, but it feels like it’s taking hours to get there. The road is slippery with ice, and the mountains in the distance are heaped with snow. There’s sun out for the journey—a good omen, I suppose—but the cold is bitter. I was offered a closed carriage, but both Hansen and I agreed that we should make the journey on horseback. People need to see us, me and