“And we can all guess how you know this,” Howard says, raising an eyebrow at her half-sister.
Legh shrugs. “Well, ever since Boleyn turned you into a proper queen you told me to stop having my assignations in the palace. What was I supposed to do?”
There’s a knock on the door, and Florin enters to their silence. Howard had imagined him pouring necessities into a sack for them, but he has been far cleverer. He holds a tray, the kind that any servant might bring to their queen. Upon it are several silver domes which, when uncovered, reveal plates of dried meat and fruits, hard biscuits, clean cloth and healing herbs.
They set about dividing everything between Lady Tylney’s bags.
“Should you leave a cipher inside them, so that they know they’re from you?” Susanna says.
“It doesn’t matter if they know that we sent them,” Howard replies. “Better to do without and be safe.”
Legh pauses, watching her, frowning.
“What?” Howard says.
“Nothing.”
When all the bags are ready, they open the windows and let the sound of the falls join their excitement. Howard feeds Goldfoot a strip of dried meat from her pocket and sets her nose to his snout. She dare not coddle him for fear of ruining Susanna’s painted disguise.
“Fly swift and strong, my dear,” she tells him. “And come back to me safely.”
At first, she worries that they have loaded him too heavily. He tumbles out of the window, the bags he clutches pulling him down. The next moment, he rises, his little wings beating powerfully. He emits a finalcaw, then rises above them, above Plythe, heading west towards the coast.
Hand pressed to her chest, Howard runs out of her receiving chamber and across the gallery to the windows on the other side, searching the skies for a glimpse of her companion. Her friends follow her.
“There he is,” Florin says, pointing to a distant flicker.
“There he is,” she whispers.
Florin takes one of her hands. Ursula takes the other.
“He is a brave boy,” Susanna says, placing a hand on Howard’s shoulder.
“He’ll find them if they’re to be found,” Legh agrees.
Warmth spreads through Howard. She is surrounded, cocooned. She thinks,This is what it is to be a queen.She has never felt her royalty so strongly as she does now, when she has worked as one with her friends, and they as one with her.
A whisper of jasmine floats through the gallery, though no jasmine grows in the grounds of Plythe. Her heart quickens.
“Your Majesty,” Ursula says.
Howard follows Ursula’s gaze. Across her hands, entwined in her fingers like ribbon, is the bordweal light.
Howard starts back, as though she might be able to throw off the power tingling across her hands and up her arms. Then she begins to laugh.
“You are a goddess,” Ursula says.
Her friends crowd around her. All but Legh, who stands apart from them. Howard doesn’t care. She revels in their wonder. She is so thrilled that she almost does not hear the applause. Low and strong as a church bell.
Gradually, the group falls silent. They turn, searching for the source. And there, from around the corner, steps Culpepper. His face is bright and open and gleeful. He pushes through her companions, kneels before her, takes her glimmering hands in his and kisses them.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Howard
Howard has been caught out many times in her short life. She remembers being caught by one of her aunt’s servants with her music teacher. She had frozen, a hand over her mouth, wishing his body was big enough to shield her. It is the same now, as Culpepper looks up at her. She needs to hide.
“Youarea goddess,” he says, cradling her hands in his own. It is as if she has been coated in the gimrodor oil that coats the dragons guarding the Tower, turning them to stone.
