Queen's Hunt - By Beth Bernobich Page 0,60

left an army behind to savage the kingdom until he did.”

“And Markus Khandarr knows this?”

“No. But I could not risk his questioning me again.”

Ilse wished she could have witnessed this interview between Valara Baussay and Markus Khandarr. She wondered what had transpired afterward and what means Valara used to escape the prison. Too many questions. She could not ask them all tonight, only the most important ones. “Where is the jewel, then?”

Those bright dark eyes closed, and Valara’s face pinched in remembered pain. “Home. That is why I must go home. As quickly as I can. Don’t you see?”

Her voice broke on the last word. She was trembling. Not with terror, though. Valara Baussay was more than simply desperate. She spoke as though she were the only one who could save …

Ilse’s breath went still with insight. “You. Your father was the king. You are the heir. The queen.”

Galena made an astonished noise. Valara’s expression smoothed to a blank.

“It’s true,” Ilse went on, more confident now. “With you as his hostage, Leos Dzavek can threaten all of Morennioù until he gains the jewel.”

It explained so much. The mysterious fleet sent into the east. Their almost immediate return a few days after the first sighting. She rapidly reviewed all she knew of Leos Dzavek and Károvín politics. A strong king who held absolute control for four hundred years. A council fractured by that knowledge and their own agendas. She knew, with certainty, that Raul would have no success in forming an alliance abroad.

We must do the work ourselves.

She laid the knife aside. “I can help you. Galena, let her go.”

“No,” Galena said. “You can’t trust her.”

“Trust is a gift. You cannot ask a bondage price for it.”

Valara’s eyes blinked open, and she stared hard at Ilse. It was not a warm, open gaze. Those great eyes held secrets behind secrets. She will lie to me, Ilse thought. I cannot trust her at all, but I have no choice. I cannot allow Markus Khandarr to learn about Morennioù’s jewel.

“I have a friend,” she said softly. “A powerful friend. He has great influence in Veraene—unofficial influence. You must speak with him, and explain your situation. There is one requirement. He will want to know more about your connection with Leos Dzavek.”

Another pause. Then, “Does your friend want the jewel?”

Ah. Here was the heart of the matter. The truth was simple enough. Almost too simple for a royal princess used to the intrigues of court.

“He wants peace,” Ilse said. “Our king insists on war. The fewer weapons he and Leos Dzavek hold, the more likely my friend can achieve his goal.”

She met Valara’s gaze steadily, willing the other woman to trust. Moments were sliding through the hourglass. If they delayed too long, it wouldn’t matter what Valara believed. Galena gave a whispering sigh, as if she, too, were calculating the time.

Finally Valara said, “So you will help me get away from Osterling Keep? To meet with your friend?”

“Yes.”

“No,” Galena said. “Ilse, you promised to talk to her. Ask her questions. You didn’t say anything about helping her to escape. That’s treason.”

“I know,” Ilse said quietly. “I can’t expect you to—”

A soft rapping interrupted them. Galena started to her feet, knife held ready. Ilse motioned for her to stop. “Go into my bedroom,” she whispered. When Galena frowned, she added, “Do it. Unless you want to explain yourself to the house guards, and after them, Lord Joannis.”

Galena scowled, but she lowered the knife. She and Valara hurried into Ilse’s bedroom and eased the door shut. Ilse waited, hoping her unwanted visitor would leave, but another knock sounded, louder this time. “Ilse? You’re awake. I know it.”

Alesso. Ilse cursed softly. Anyone else she could easily send away without an explanation. She went to the door and opened it a crack.

He was little more than a shadow and a scent in the darkness, but she caught the tension in his attitude. “You have visitors,” he said softly. “And before you deny it, I saw you admit them through the side door. Or rather, you admitted one visitor and the two of you carried the other. Let me in, or I will cry to the watch that robbers have invaded your rooms.”

This was no bluff. He would do it. Ilse stood aside and motioned for him to enter. Alesso glided into the room, glancing to either side. His gaze paused at the lit candles, the map of Fortezzien spread over Ilse’s desk, then the closed bedroom door. He

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