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“Let me make myself clear. You will not associate with Lady Sybella. She has been accused of serious crimes. Crimes that can taint those around them. Crimes that may still lead to a most unpleasant punishment.” Her face softens unexpectedly. “I would not want that for you, Genevieve. Besides, you have a far more important task before you than Sybella’s poor health. The king needs you now more than ever, as there are heavy decisions weighing upon him. Tend to those needs as you have been instructed. As you have promised. Else I will make certain you wish that you had.”
Chapter 18
Sybella
I wait a quarter hour after the regent leaves, then make my way to the queen. My two guards still follow, but from a greater distance than before. When I slip into the room, Heloise looks up from the posset she is preparing.
I keep my voice low. “How is the queen doing?”
Heloise glances over at the bed. “Not much better.” The cheerful note in her voice is at odds with her words as she takes a pinch of cloves and adds it to the cup.
“Does her illness no longer concern you?” Or is she snubbing me for not doing a better job of fulfilling my duties?
Heloise opens a second small jar and takes another pinch, this time of ginger. “I think I will let her tell you.” She drops the spices into the hot posset, shoves it into my hand with a smile, then shoos me toward the queen.
Unable to make sense of her manner, I feel my hands grow damp, and foreboding settles in my belly. Elsibet is just securing a thick blue velvet shawl around the queen’s shoulders as I reach the bed. The queen’s face is still pale, but there is no clamminess or greenish tinge to it.
With a final plump of the pillow, Elsibet retreats to the window next to Heloise and takes up her stitching.
“Your Majesty.” I curtsy deeply.
As I hand the queen her posset, she says, “Genevieve told me what has happened.”
“About the regent and the Bishop of Albi working together?”
“Yes.” She sips her posset. “But also about the accusation being made against you.”
I grimace. “I am sor—”
“I believe I have ordered you not to apologize for such things before, and you dare not disobey a direct order from your sovereign.”
Her words fill me with both warmth and humor, removing some of the chill that had beset me. “But of course. I dare not.”
She lowers her voice. “So did you kill him?”
As I look into the queen’s sweet young face, I am filled with despair. No matter how hard I try to break free of this darkness, it always pulls me back. “Yes. Pierre sent him to kill me.”
The queen settles back against her pillows. “I thought as much. That’s why I didn’t ask you before the trial—in case they called me to testify.”
Clever queen! “You don’t seem perturbed by it at all.”
“Perturbed? No! I am glad that you have the skills and the strength that allow you to survive. That allow us all to survive.”
“The good news is the death has been ruled an accident. I am absolved.”
“Oh, that is good news!”
“Unfortunately, I do not think that means they will give up on their hope to position our worship as heresy.”
The queen stares glumly into her posset. “If they succeed, then all who worship the Nine will be declared heretics.”
To try a queen for heresy would be a shocking scandal—but one that might suit the regent’s aspirations perfectly. “I do not think they will go that far,” I tell her, but I no longer pretend to understand just how far these people will go.
“Not only have the Nine been sanctioned by the Church,” she grumbles, “they have lent me their aid when I needed it most.” She sets her chin stubbornly. “I will not renounce them.” She looks up at me then, her eyes suddenly sparkling. “But I forget. You have not heard the news. We may yet have one more arrow in our quiver.” She smiles shyly. In truth, she appears to be blushing faintly.
“What news?” For some inexplicable reason, I grow chilled.
Her blush deepens, and she looks down at her fingers, playing with the rim of her goblet. “I am pregnant.”
My body feels as if it has turned to stone, and my vision narrows until small black spots begin dancing before my eyes. “Pregnant?” My voice is steady. Normal, even. I clap my hands together to keep them from drifting to my belly. No matter how deeply the mind tries to hide it, no matter how thick the heart builds the walls, the body remembers. “You are certain?”
She tilts her head, perplexed. “Is this not good news?”
“Of course, Your Majesty! This is a most joyous and welcome event!”
“Then why do you look as if you are attending a funeral?”
“I am just stunned. I did not think enough time had passed.” It has just been over five weeks since the wedding.
The queen wrinkles her nose. “It was too early to tell before now, but this is the second monthly course I have missed. The first one was right after the wedding, and we thought it was due to the travel and excitement. But now, with the second one . . .” She shrugs gracefully.
“And there are other signs, as well.” Heloise appears beside me and takes the half-drunk posset from the queen. “Her breasts are tender. She cannot keep food down. And she is sleeping nearly all the time.”
My own breasts tighten in painful remembrance. “Those are the signs. And may I just say again, Your Majesty, how happy I am for you. There is nothing that could tip the scales in our favor more than this news.” That is when the first glimmer of happiness finally gets through—not only because she will be having a child, but because the political implications are so far-reaching. She now holds an entire handful of cards she did not have before.
She smiles, joy and relief writ plain on her face. In spite of the wretched trembling of my body, I am happy for her.
“Surely our new position”—her hand waves awkwardly at her middle—“will make the king think twice before making any such decisions.”
Her words are a vicious reminder of how unfair the world is. That only her potential to produce a dauphin can assure her of the king’s favor. “Surely he will, for he won’t wish so much as a whiff of illegitimacy on the dauphin. Even so, I think it best to wait for the right moment to share this news with him.” What I do not say is that between the regent and the bishop, there is a chance things could get even worse, and we do not want to use up all our arrows before the true fight has even begun.
* * *
The walk through the palace halls back to my own room lasts a lifetime. Nay, a thousand lifetimes if counting my baby’s lifespan. She is long grown cold now, but I held her tiny, warm body for a handful of minutes, each one of them more precious than any jewel. The wound should be long healed, but my body—my stubborn, obstinate body—will not forget.
Nor my heart. Both tremble and flutter as if it were still holding that small bundle in my arms.
When at last I reach my door, I thrust it open and stumble inside. Desperately in need of air, I rush to the window and throw it open, lifting my face to the cold bite of winter that pours in, welcoming its bracing slap. When my lungs no longer feel as if they are bound in iron, I lean against the stone wall next to the window. Of all the locked doors in my heart, this one has the most chains wrapped around it. More than any of the others, it has the power to rob me of what little peace I’ve managed to eke out.
I do not begrudge the queen her growing babe. Indeed, I am happy for her. I only wish her happiness did not feel as if it were ripping my own heart wide open.
I press myself more firmly against the hard stone at my back and pretend it is Beast’s solid presence that holds me until the wave of pain and desolation has passed.
Chapter 19
Aeva
After our near miss with the search party, the rest of our trip is uneventful. The cities and larger holdings are crawling with soldiers, but we evade them easily. Tonight, there are barely two ho
urs of daylight left when we decide to halt for the day. Once I have seen to our horses, I make my way toward the camp Tola and Tephanie are setting up for the girls. Tola looks up as I approach the campfire. “There you are.” She stands up and brushes off her hands. “It’s your turn to help set up, and I have promised to show one of the queen’s guards the secret of how we shoot a bow so accurately.”
I scowl at her. “You’re going to tell him our sacred secrets?”
She rolls her eyes at me. “No, cranky goose. I’m going to pretend I am, then use the opportunity to teach him how to shoot better.” As she brushes past me, she says in a lower voice, “Besides, I think it is high time you put the girls to bed for a change. I have had my fill of Charlotte for today.”
“Liar,” I mutter. She laughs and disappears toward the other end of camp.
When I look down at the others, the little wasp is watching me, her eyes unreadable in the deepening shadows. Sometimes when a mare throws a foal, even though we begin training it in its earliest days, it will never accept a saddle or rider. I wonder if the wasp is like one of those wilding foals that cannot be tamed no matter what, or if she has just not found the right trainer yet.
I reach out and ruffle her hair. She ducks away in annoyance. “If you’re waiting for us to make your bed, you will be stuck sleeping on the bare ground,” I tell her.
Her head snaps up. “Tephanie and Tola always make our beds for us.”
“For Louise, yes. But you are of an age where you can do things for yourself.”
