“First you take my panther’s affections; now you make a play for my gargoyle,” Cleves says.
“I believe the panther was a gift,” Seymour says, scratching Lelij’s muzzle. “And besides, I do not believe that anything with a soul can truly be stolen: it merely gives its heart elsewhere.”
There is much that Cleves could say to that, much that she wants to say. Where do you give your heart these days, Queen of Hyde? Or: I am a thief and should like to test your claim. But Cecilia and Johana are here, so she merely says, “I know little of hearts or souls, so I will bow to your expertise, my angry queen.”
She slices a piece of hard cheese, ignoring the way Cecilia is looking between her and Seymour, as though she has stumbled upon a great secret and cannot wait to share it. Cleves returns her attention to her. “So, Your Majesty. Now we have caught you – or stolen you, whichever way you would have it – what are we going to do with you?”
“I am shocked that you do not already know,” Cecilia says.
“If anyone were to ask me, I would say get rid of her,” Johana remarks, taking a bite of an apple. He chews, then looks at the fruit appraisingly. “Truly, these are the only delicious thing to come out of this country.”
“That is one option,” Cleves agrees.
“Cecilia believes in her brother’s great love,” Seymour says. “Perhaps we could bargain with him for her safe release.”
Something passes between Seymour and Cecilia then – Cleves realises that this was a barb on Seymour’s part. She does not believe that Henry will save his sister. But Cecilia does. Cleves wonders how she can use that.
“I assume you desire a throne of your own,” Cleves says. “Perhaps your brother would be willing to give up his grasp upon Elben in exchange for his sister taking … shall we say Brynd?”
Cecilia scoffs. “You think to exchange a kingdom for a castle?”
“A stolen kingdom for a freely given castle,” Cleves says.
Cecilia appears to consider this. “He will not like it,” she says at last.
“No, I don’t imagine he will.”
Johana takes another bite of his apple. The crunch echoes around the room.
Cecilia flicks her hair behind her shoulder. “Shall I write to him to begin the negotiations?” she says.
Cleves is almost disappointed. Cecilia has capitulated far too easily to be sincere. She is in some respects extremely clever, and in others hopelessly transparent. But Cleves plays along; she may as well allow Cecilia to think she has the advantage. “Why don’t you take a few nights to think it over? It is no small negotiation we are asking you to undertake.”
Cecilia stands, smooths her gown. “Good night, ladies,” she says, and sweeps from the room. Johana spreads his hands. “I am confused. Am I a lady or am I invisible?”
Seymour leans towards Cleves. “She is lying, of course.”
“Of course,” Cleves says, leaning in too.
Johana looks between them. “I think I must be invisible. I shall take myself outside, ensuring any little butterflies that may be lurking nearby are safely tucked away.” There is a stifled sound from just beyond the door, and Johana raises his eyebrows at them as he leaves. Alone with Seymour, Cleves finds herself emboldened and terrified all at once. It is strange: attractive women do not usually frighten her. Usually, she knows precisely what to say and do once she is alone with them.
But then Seymour has always held a different space in Cleves’s mind. Cleves still remembers reading the letter from her informant, and learning of the lady-in-waiting who had been sent to kill her mistress, and who had instead fallen in love with said mistress and seduced a king. Did Seymour realise, Cleves wondered even then, just how remarkable she was?
“I have brought trouble to your door,” Seymour says. They are still leaning towards each other. It is imperative that no eavesdroppers hear them.
“It is your way, is it not?” Cleves says.
“I thought you might be angry with me for saving Cecilia. But you do not seem to be angry, or sad, or pleased … All I ever seem to do is amuse you.”
Good, Cleves thinks.It is working then.
“The world, life – these things always amuse me.”
“And what we are doing – plotting against a king, leading our country towards civil war – is that also amusing to you?”
Seymour is looking at Cleves in a way she does not like. As if Seymour knows something of Cleves. As if she knows something of soldiers and the cries of battle in the night.
“Well, if our little princess is to be believed, her brother’s love for her will circumvent all need for civil war, will it not?” Cleves says. She laughs at her own joke.
