shook her head. “But where Nat got the idea he couldn’t stand on his own two feet already, I don’t know. A more capable young man I’ve never met.”
I kept quiet. Twenty months ago, I’d argued the same point with Nat myself and had gotten nowhere. And I saw no need to expose to anyone—even someone as close as Norrie—how desperate Nat had felt, or to remind them of just how low his standing had been at Court back then.
But Sybil, wise in the ways of Court politics, hadn’t forgotten. “Capable he certainly is,” she agreed. “But that isn’t the point, Norrie dear. It’s true. He didn’t have much standing at Court back then, or any real power. And you know how people here can be. They would’ve called him the Chantress’s lackey—or worse.”
Just hearing her say the words made me realize how bad it would’ve been. For myself, I could have endured it, for the sake of being with Nat. But his sacrifice would have been much greater. No one would have respected him. Small wonder he’d balked.
“Yes, I can see his dilemma.” Sybil’s eyes were full of concern as she turned to me. “But I still think he asked a lot, expecting you to pretend that you’d gone your separate ways.”
“He didn’t ask that in so many words,” I admitted. “He said only that he needed to do everything on his own. But once I had time to think, I realized what I had to do. It wasn’t enough for me not to interfere on his behalf, you see. I had to make it clear that I didn’t want to interfere, that I had no interest whatsoever in his affairs, that he meant nothing to me.”
“Was that really necessary, child?” Norrie asked.
“Yes.” I was sure of it. “Otherwise half the Court would think I was pulling strings for him behind the scenes.”
“I hate to say it, but you’re right,” Sybil said. “They probably would think that, the toads. You ought to have told us, though. We could have helped you.”
I shook my head. As much as I loved them both, it had been too great a secret to share, especially since discretion was not Sybil’s strongest suit. Perhaps that was changing, now that she was Queen, but I’d thought it too risky to tell her—or anyone in her circle, including Norrie.
“It was simplest just to tell everyone we’d argued and there was nothing between us anymore,” I said. “That way no one could accuse Nat of prospering because he was in my favor.”
“And no one would give him assistance merely to get close to you,” Sybil said, working it all out. “So Nat is standing on his own two feet, just as he wanted to.” She looked at me admiringly. “What a clever plan.”
“Not clever.” It had cost me too dearly for that. “Merely desperate. But it seems to have worked. And Nat never objected to it.”
At first I’d been afraid that I wouldn’t be able to maintain the masquerade in his presence—that some unguarded look of mine would give us away to everyone. Yet it had never come to that. On the rare occasions when I’d been called to Court, I’d inevitably found that Nat had left before I’d arrived. I, in turn, had been careful to be gone before he came back. Only once had I been caught out, and then I’d pretended to be ill, staying in my room until he was gone again.
Although we never saw each other, it seemed we were in silent agreement. We were playing the same game, by the same rules.
At least I hoped we were. The problem with a game like this, however, was that you couldn’t be absolutely certain what the other player was thinking. And there was always the chance that the game would finish in stalemate, with everyone walking away from the board.
Norrie’s look of quiet sympathy almost undid me. She patted my hand. “Why, you’re as cold as anything, child.”
Sybil put her arm around me. “Cold? We can’t have that.”
While Norrie poked some life into the fire, Sybil sat me down in one of the high-backed chairs arranged before the hearth. Silk sleeves rustling, she picked up a fat silver pot that had been swaddled to keep it warm. “Chocolate. That’s what you need.”
After frothing up the drink, she passed the rich brew to me. Warming my hands around the cup, I felt obscurely comforted.
Sybil sat and sipped at her own chocolate. “What I don’t