“How can we be certain she has not betrayed us?” Aragon is saying. “She has done so before to secure her future.”
“And you have never betrayed anyone yourself?” Cleves replies. Usually she clouds her insults in jest and smiles, but not this time. Her hair, usually a little wild, is now positively unkempt. Howard tries to interrupt, to ask what has happened. Only Parr notices.
“Queen Seymour has been taken,” she says, and even she is louder than usual – normally Howard has to lean in to hear her. Parr tells Howard what Cleves has already told them, while the other two queens glare at each other.
“We must rescue her,” Howard says, as soon as Parr has finished.
“I have an idea—” Cleves begins, but Aragon interrupts her.
“It seems to me that we must first ascertain how much Henry knows,” she says. She turns her gaze to Howard. “He has been staying with you for some time, has he not? Is this because he is waiting for his sister’s arrival, or for another reason?”
Howard bites her lip. “Cromwell and Wolsey are here as well. He is with them now, but I did not hear them talk of the Dowager Queen Cecilia.”
“When did he arrive?” Cleves asks.
“A fortnight ago, shortly after we last spoke,” Howard says.
“There has been enough time for her to send a message to Henry telling him of her conquest,” Parr says.
Howard says, “I did wonder why he has stayed so long at Plythe. He has never done so before. It would be like him to not confide in me on such matters.”
An awkward silence falls upon the group. Eventually Parr says, “Since the Moon Ball, he has only stayed with two women for any length of time. You and Mary Boleyn.”
She says this as though it provides an answer, but Howard cannot work it out. Aragon tuts. “The youngest of us and the woman who has already birthed a son to her previous husband. Understand?”
Howard’s mouth forms an “O”. That explains why he has been more amorous also.
“Of course,” she says quietly. “I have been very stupid.”
“It helps that you are also very beautiful and very sweet,” Cleves says softly. Howard laughs unsteadily. “Yes, I am a rose without a thorn. But we were discussing how to help Queen Seymour.”
Aragon shakes her head. “I know Cecilia of old, and my contacts tell me she has changed little. Her most treasured weapon is shock.Mark me, she will want to arrive in Elben without prior warning and produce Seymour like a magic trick.”
“That is good,” Parr says, “It will give us time to study the currents of the Swegan Sea, and to pray for Medren’s help.”
“Could Cecilia’s silence be bought?” Cleves says.
Aragon snorts, and the sound is so unqueenly that Howard has to turn away to hide her smirk. “You may buy her for an hour, or a day, but you will have no assurance of her continued loyalty.”
“And Henry is her brother,” Howard says. She does not want to be silent through this conversation, even though she has little to offer in the way of stratagems.
“That is true, sister,” Parr says, although it feels like a pat on the head.
“Then can we exert our influence elsewhere?” Cleves says. “We may not be able to match Cecilia’s warship on the ocean, but I could pay someone to intercept them the moment they step foot on the shore.”
This seems like a risky plan to Howard, to leave the act until the last possible moment, but she does not like to say so.
“Perhaps I could rescue her,” Howard says. “If they are docking at Swegan then …”
She peters out.
Parr says, “It is too dangerous. I think we must exhaust our other options first.”
Howard looks out to the courtyard, and as the queens continue to argue the best course of action, she listens to the lullaby of the Kyttle Falls through glass. Somewhere beyond that window, beyond the falls, beyond Kywsa Bay, Seymour is caged. How tangled are her feelings, caught between homesickness and the knowledge of her assured death? Howard has never left Elben, though she likes the thought of adventure, loves the idea of bone-built Perfugi and the royal cities of Quisto with their streets of baked terracotta. But she doesn’t think it would take long for her to miss the sound of water, or the smell of dew-steeped flowers on a spring morning. She would miss looking up at the night sky and catching the glimmer of the bordweal against the stars.
“There is one course of action we have not considered,” Aragon says.
“What is that?” Cleves asks.
