his successor. Using her means that our neighbors, Kalthorne and Vertgana, will recognize her as a valid successor and not attempt to seat their own. Laurel is planning a coup with Nicole.”
Of course—all of our nations had distant ties to each other, and if they thought they had a stronger claim to Demeine than whoever ruled if Laurel won, they would try to takeover.
“I thought her father had her arrested,” Charles said. “She tried this before with Laurel in Segance.”
Demeine nobles could not have clean hands, but we had to help fix the mess we had made.
I couldn’t keep this secret any longer, not if they were scrying for truths and liars in this camp. Eventually, they would find me out.
“Which is why her signature is curious.” Laurence rolled into a sitting position. “Do any of you know why the first King Henry renamed our nation, our people, and our language?”
I knew he had, but all the historians made it seem triumphant. After the wars with Vertgana and the Empire, we had left our old name, the one that had seen us conquered again and again, behind.
“Because he thought this land was his and his alone.” Laurence looked up at us. “Is a land its crown’s or its people’s?”
“It’s people’s,” I said.
Charles nodded. “There is no nation without its people.”
“Great!” Laurence clapped and stood. “That confirms my worst fears. When they question you, Charles and Sébastien, don’t say that. Get out. I need to think.”
Charles and Sébastien darted out of the tent. Laurence groaned.
“Emilie,” he said, “there are very few conversations I am mentally capable of handling right now.”
“I’m sorry. I need to tell you something.” I was certain my bones were ice and all about to crack, leaving me a collapsed and worthless mess. “My name isn’t Emilie Boucher. It’s Emilie des Marais.”
“Yes?” He glanced at me, not turning his body. “And?”
The little thread of control I thought I still held over my life snapped.
“You knew this whole time?” I asked. “You didn’t send me away?”
“Did I not mention it before we came here?” He tilted his head up, black brows a confused, furrowed line.
I shook my head. “Not even a little bit.”
“My apologies. I meant to,” he said. “It’s really irrelevant to most of my opinions on you, and you weren’t doing anything untoward, so I might have—”
“You forgot,” I said, “didn’t you?”
He tried too hard to not be flighty and fickle like his contemporaries pretended to be, their well-controlled acts that ticked every box—half-done appearance, overly expressed emotions, and fiery temperament—and yet here we were. All of them wanted to look like the carefree genius who was too far above mortal concerns, but Laurence was.
“The intricacies of your life are not as interesting as you think they are.” He stretched, face falling into his normal expressionless calm. “Why are you confessing this now?”
“I didn’t want you to be caught unawares if Charron’s scrying found me out,” I said.
Laurence waved for me to leave. “She already knows. Your decoy is her apprentice, everything is fine, and I appreciate your honesty, but I dearly need to think. In peace.”
“Of course. Sorry.” I bowed out of habit and went to find Madeline.
The day went on as most days had, but more subdued. We stayed in the infirmary, checking injuries and taking stock of supplies. The three chevaliers in the camp walked through the little gatherings of people during supper, chatting with hacks as if they were old friends and not sniffing out traitors, and I ended up in Laurence’s tent once again the next morning with Charles. Charles and Sébastien had been questioned and cleared. Sébastien was still twitchy, though.
“Stop thinking about it. Here.” Laurence pushed a small leaf of papers into his hands. “Read this. You’ll like it.”
Sébastien clutched the papers to his chest, nodded, and left.
Charles picked up one of Charron’s journals Laurence was flipping through, trying to find notes on scrying. He thumbed through the pages. “Exquisite.”
“An exquisite pain,” Laurence muttered. “If I leave you two here, will I return to find you both in one piece and none of my work worse for wear?”
“Yes.” Charles sat on the cot next to me, book open on his lap. “I’ll refrain from asking questions. That should keep us all safe.”
Laurence laughed his way out of the tent.
“I was going to offer you the cheese pastry I had in my bag,” I said, “but I’m rethinking that now.”
“You should eat it.” He smelled of vinegar and soap and something