The Queen's Assassin (Queen's Secret #1) - Melissa de la Cruz Page 0,16
anyone would happen upon it, and the few who live in the town of Baer are unfriendly to strangers, and that’s before the dangerous trek through the woods to reach the abbey’s gates.
He became convinced the monks had simply taken up residence in their old quarters, but he didn’t tell anyone he intended to explore the abbey, least of all the queen. Better to keep his mouth shut entirely and avoid any possibility of that information spreading around. People at court love to talk, and there is a complicated system in place that barters in petty secrets and nepotism. Cal loathes court life and does his best to avoid it.
Of course, before the search for the scrolls, Cal has a more immediate concern: Will he be rewarded or punished for killing Grand Prince Alast? Cal doesn’t know what the queen will do. He’s been at her service, officially, only a few years. She trusts him, but he wonders who else may have her ear, and whether they worked for the grand prince. Someone could already be refuting his story for all he knows, or spinning some other kind of tale—that he framed Alast in order to benefit himself; that he is actually the secret Aphrasian monk—it could be anything.
If the grand prince was involved with the Aphrasians, anyone at court might be. The man has—had—an impeccable reputation. He was well-respected. Trusted. Beloved even. A hero. He had avenged Esban’s death. There wasn’t even a hint that he was the filthy traitor in their midst. By any account he was fiercely loyal to the queen and his niece, dedicated to Renovia. If you’d told Cal yesterday that he’d be killing the grand prince by nightfall, he’d have laughed.
Cal scans his memory, trying to recall anything he’d overlooked before: a conversation, strange behavior from anyone at court—did he ever notice Alast whispering with another courtier during a dinner party or disappearing at a royal event?—anything that would shed light on the prince’s role within the Aphrasian order? Or anything Cal himself might have said that could be twisted, used against him by enemies? He can think of nothing. No one has acted out of character. Which means little.
A terrible thought comes to him: What if Alast had been in the process of fulfilling a secret assignment for the queen—what if the farm girl was actually a spy? And Cal, playing the hero, had killed him in the process.
He gets up and begins pacing. Crumples the summons in his fist. Throws it in the fireplace. What’s done is done, he tells himself. He can’t go back. There’s no way to fix it. His stomach clenches and his headache turns sharper, slicing through his left temple like a knife. When’s the last time he had something to eat or drink? He begins to pour what remains of yesterday’s drinking water into a mug, then decides to finish it off straight from the clay pitcher instead. He grabs a chunk of stale bread and shoves it in his mouth. The chewy texture feels good in his jaw, gives his aggravation a physical release.
The not-knowing makes it all worse. Best to head to Violla Ruza at once, he decides. The sooner he faces the queen, the sooner he can stop worrying. He hates worrying. Worrying is wasteful. He prefers action. So he moves quickly.
Cal’s only furniture is a bed and a simple wardrobe his father built, where he hangs his few items of clothing. The rest of his things—a couple of books, the blades he inherited from his father—are kept in a locked trunk at the foot of the bed.
He could have more if he wanted—the queen pays him well—but Cal believes the fewer possessions he has, the better. As much as he likes it here, he’s never allowed himself to get too comfortable, too settled. He has to live for today, not some uncertain future. Plus, a lot of clutter means a lot of possible evidence lying around, a lot of baggage. He may need to abandon this place with only a few minutes of notice. As the Queen’s Assassin, he never knows where his work may take him, or for how long, or even whether he’ll return. And if he doesn’t, who might rifle through his room after he’s gone?