as a Chantress, the stone that had once deafened me to Wild Magic. Swinging on its silver chain, it had slipped free of my bodice and was visible in the gap of my cloak.
“You’re sure it was this?” I was skeptical. An intact stone could give a horrible shock to anyone who touched it—though not to its Chantress, or to any person she willingly gave it to. But my stone was riddled with cracks; I wore it only as a keepsake. The most it could muster up was a slight pinprick, and even that was rare.
“I’m sure.” Sybil eyed my stone warily. “I thought you told me it didn’t have any magic left.”
“It doesn’t.”
“If it can sting me, it must,” Sybil said with assurance. “Let me try again.” She put out a cautious and perfectly manicured fingertip. When it touched the stone, she jerked back. “Yes, there’s something there. It’s not deafening you, is it?”
“Not a bit,” I said cheerfully. “Ever since it cracked, everything sounds just the same whether I have it on or off. But I’m sorry it hurt you.” I tucked it safely away. “Look, let’s go into the garden, and then we can talk more freely.”
“Yes.” Sybil slipped her arm through mine. “On an afternoon like this, hardly anyone will be there.”
She was right. In the soaking rain, the garden was empty save for one man who was resolutely trudging at the far end with a wheelbarrow. Giving him a wide berth, we walked along the loggia, the rain beading up on our cloaks as it blew in through the pillars.
“Was it love at first sight?” Sybil murmured.
I looked at her blankly, my mind on the questions I needed to ask her. Love? What was she . . . Oh. My meeting with Nat on the Dorset.
“No,” I told her. “It was an utter disaster.”
Her radiant face lost some of its glow. “Oh no. Did you argue?”
“Yes,” I said. “But it wasn’t just that. We’ve been apart so long that we hardly know each other anymore. I’ve changed, and so has he.”
Sybil brightened. “Well, really, that’s only to be expected, isn’t it? You’ll soon get used to each other again. And in the meantime”—she dimpled—“there can be something rather exciting about a stranger, can’t there? I’ve known Henry since I was a child, and yet when he puts on his crown and his robes of state and holds court, it’s as if I’m seeing a whole new man. It’s quite a delicious experience.”
I shook my head as we continued down the loggia. “Maybe for you. But not for me.”
Even as I said it, I wondered if that was true. Did I really want to turn back time? Much as I hated the distance between us, I admired the man that Nat had become. More than admired, if the truth were told.
“You still love him.” Sybil squeezed my arm. “I can see it in your face.”
I hadn’t meant to reveal so much. Halting by a pillar, I looked out at the perfect squares of the garden, the hedges trim and glistening with rain. “Maybe I do. But love alone isn’t enough.”
“Why not?”
I glanced at her in surprise. “You of all people should know, Sybil. I mean, look at you. You married the King, and that defines your life, just as marriage to a Chantress would define Nat’s life. You aren’t free to live by your own rules anymore. You have to be Queen, whether you like it or not. And you don’t like it, do you? It’s making you very unhappy.”
Sybil bit her lip. “Is it that obvious?”
“To a friend, yes. And who could blame you? You’re a free spirit, but now you have to follow protocol every minute of the day. You’re under the scrutiny of the Court and the broadsides all the time.”
“Oh, the broadsides,” Sybil said miserably. “Don’t remind me.” We started pacing down the loggia again. “One unguarded remark, and they pillory me. And the ladies-in-waiting can be just as bad. Half of them are political appointments, you know, and they’re always looking for evidence that I really am the ‘Mad Queen,’ just as the broadsides say.” She paused, and added softly, “But I love Henry. And that makes it all worthwhile.”
Did it? I thought of her frustration the other night, when she’d said Henry and I treated her like an idiot, and I wondered how she would feel in the long run.
“It’s worth it,” she said again, as if I’d argued the