“I’ve had the chance to get a better feel for the political situation here.” Lorne tried to keep his voice level. Logical. “If Queen Adeline were killed, the warmongering lords would be the ones positioned to take over. They would continue the war, and they’d use the death of their queen to call for blood, just as they did with the deaths of their crown prince and princess five years ago. Killing her would only make our situation worse, not end the war.”
“I see.” Emil nodded, bowing his head slightly. “Then should we escape? We have a better chance, now that we aren’t in the dungeon.”
Lorne shook his head again, although without the frantic vigor of a moment ago. He couldn’t leave his wife to fend for herself against all that was arrayed against her right now. “No. Leaving will just put us right back where we started.”
“Then what are your orders, sir?” Orvyn’s smile tipped slightly, his eyes twinkling, as if he’d already guessed what those orders would be.
“We need to keep Queen Adeline alive.” Lorne met each of their gazes, not looking away until he saw agreement written there. “She’s Lalsacia’s only chance for peace. But right now, her position is tenuous. Shehas far more lords plotting against her than she has on her side. And as we know, Kelverny is not above assassinating their own to perpetuate this war.”
That was something he had yet to tell Adeline. He had been about to, before he’d collapsed.
But he had to tell her. Soon. No matter how much the words would wreck her.
“Very well, sir.” Godwin bowed from the waist from where he sat. “We will do our best to keep both of you safe. But you are still our priority.”
Lorne nodded. If his men suspected that he was in too much danger, they would smuggle him out of Kelverny and back to Lalsacia without any care for who he might be leaving behind.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sitting on her bed, Adeline bent over her lap desk, her eyes burning at the late hour. The low lamplight cast orange light and dark shadows across her room and across the page, even as the words swam before her.
All this paperwork. She’d known there would be a lot as queen, but it almost seemed that the Council was piling it on to put her even more off-balance than she already was. Their means of exerting control over her and proving that she wasn’t fit to be queen.
For things like tax records and payments and military numbers, there was a team of stewards and assistants who oversaw those things. They were her grandfather’s loyal men, but Thaddeus was also pulling late hours—later hours than he should at his age—to double-check their numbers to ensure none of them were trying to cheat the crown in some way.
But for everything else, she was essentially on her own. The current sheaf before her contained petitionsfrom the nobility. Lord Lerroy wanted royal funds to repair a bridge over a river. Lord Avery wanted a larger allotment of royal grain to supply a village after a blight killed the crops. But Lord Fellton was arguing that the troops at the border needed every bit of grain and that the villagers would just have to fend for themselves.
Even if things appeared somewhat straightforward on the surface, there was the secondary level of politics behind everything. Yes, that bridge over the river sounded like it was in desperate need of repair. Someone could get hurt if it wasn’t. But if she approved the bridge for Lord Lerroy, then Lord Harding would see it as favoritism and protest, wanting her to also approve road improvements near his estate, even though those road improvements were nowhere near as necessary.
How was she to wade through all of this? If her parents had lived, her father would likely have taken her to meetings and started training her for this long before now.
But her grandfather had kept her far from all of that, and she’d had no power to protest being shut out. He’d wanted her to be ignorant and pliable so that he could marry her to someone who would follow in his footsteps, like Lord Sarlon’s son.
Thanks to her grandfather, she was now woefully unprepared. He’d ensured she would fail, even after she’d thwarted his plans to marry her off.
A knock made her jump and nearly tip her inkpot over yet again. Perhaps working on a lap desk in herbed wasn’t the best idea, even if she preferred hiding here rather than working in her study.
She lifted her head, looking first to the door to the sitting room. But that door remained closed, no one in sight.
When she turned her head, the connecting door between bedchambers stood open, and Lord Lorne leaned against the jamb, not quite stepping inside.
Her stomach gave a flip. She’d been somewhat relieved and yet strangely disappointed when she’d readied for bed, only to find it empty. But of course, now that he could shuffle around, he would choose to sleep in the adjoining room. His men were bedding down in his sitting room rather than returning to their own suite of rooms in order to set up a better guard over him.
Besides, now that he was healed enough to get up and walk, he could be as much a danger to her as everyone else she didn’t fully trust. She shouldn’t miss his presence. She definitely shouldn’t see him as safe enough to leave the door between their bedchambers unlocked.
Too bad her heart didn’t quite agree.
“I’m sorry to disturb you.” Lord Lorne dipped his head for a moment before raising it again, meeting her gaze with a searching look of his own. “I considered sleeping in the other room, but I thought it might be wiser for us to stay together. No reason for our guards to protect two rooms when they can pool their resources and guard only one. And you’ll be safer with someone here to protect you.”
She stared at him, frozen at the sight of him upright, clean, and looking rather handsome with his dark hair and duskier skin tone, shades darker than her pallor.
It was one thing to have him in her bed when he’d been unconscious and injured to the point of immobility. But it was another thing entirely toinvitehim to share her bed. He was still healing, still hunching slightly with his broken ribs. But he was far from immobile or incapable now.
Heat rose in her cheeks. “I…uh…”
“I promise, I will not cross any of your boundaries.” He remained where he was, as if he wouldn’t so much as step a toe across the threshold until she gave her permission. “All I’m going to do is sleep. And protect you should an assassin make it past our guards.”
“Do you think an assassin is likely?” The wordassassinsent her hands shaking more than the thought of him joining her in bed.
