Page 26 of A Treason of Thorns

“If I’m the king of trumps, then what does that make life?” the king prompts.

“A game?”

“Yes. Which means that when people choose to behave one way in company and another in private, they’re bluffing. Fortunately for you, I am indeed the devoted godfather I make myself out to be. I just hate to lose.”

“I agree with Papa,” Little Vi says pragmatically, climbing back into her chair. Clearly she’s resigned herself to a few more hands of écarté. “Youdotalk a lot of nonsense.”

The king laughs again, and echoes of it are still ringing through the room when the memory fades.

“This is all a game to him,” I say, more to myself than to my House. “I’ve just got home, which means we’ve been dealt our respective cards. And this—what if he doesn’t care so much about marrying me off, he’s just drawing me out, trying to see if I’ll play on or fold?”

White blossoms burst jubilantly from the mantel and the sunscuds out from behind its cover of clouds, pouring golden light through the windows.

“Well then, Burleigh,” I say grimly. “We haven’t got much working in our favor, so I think it’s time to bluff.”

His Majesty waits in the laneway, mounted and escorted by a dozen royal guards. There’s a carriage waiting behind him, identical to the one he sat in the day my father’s arrest began. A new tendril of fear uncurls in my belly at the sight of it. I tamp it down. Steady on, Vi. Don’t let him see you’re afraid.

In contrast to the king, I drift through the bramble-choked scar in the wall as light as gossamer, a scrap of gentle summer sky come to earth. I twine my fingers in my skirts as I walk down the gravel drive. I’m wearing one of Mama’s old gowns. The frock is too low in the waist to be quite the thing, but it’s long enough, and the forget-me-not blue makes me look harmless, which is what I want. It’s fitting to do this in Mama’s clothes, too, as for once it’s her I need to imitate and not Papa. No matter how unhappy she was, whenever an outsider arrived at Burleigh, Mama closed ranks. She put on a dazzling smile and lied through her teeth, chattering about how lovely life in a Great House was, and how perfectly wonderful things were between her and my father. Right up until the end, she kept her misery hidden from everyone but her family.

That’s who I must be now—a girl without a care, a reed that bends without breaking. Never mind the state of my House, the treason I’m planning to embark on, the fear that sometimes threatens to overwhelm me—His Majesty must not sense the slightest bit of it.

“Uncle Edgar,” I say with a curtsy as I step through a gap in the mortarous briars that now serve Burleigh for a gate. “Thank you so much for waiting. I feel worlds better about this now that I’ve had a chance to freshen up.”

I don’t. After working House magic twice in one day, I feel as if I might fall over at any moment. But I’m planning to tell rather a lot of lies, so I might as well begin as I mean to go on.

“Well, you’re a pretty picture now,” His Majesty answers indulgently. “Shall we carry on to the village? Lord Pottsworth is waiting at the church.”

I let a small sigh escape my lips, and the king raises an eyebrow. “Troubles, my dear?”

“I don’tknowLord Pottsworth. I’ve never even met him. It isn’t that I object to marrying a Caretaker you choose—you’re Burleigh’s deedholder and it’s for you to appoint a new keyholder. I accept that. But it does seem hard that I don’t haveanysay in the matter. And you promised me time to settle in. I’d hardly call a day generous in that regard.”

Coming up alongside the king’s charger, I reach out and rub a finger along the horse’s embossed leather martingale. His Majesty stares down at me, a frown playing across his features.

“You could have far worse men for your husband than Lord Pottsworth,” he says. “He’s dull as powder, but that only means you’ll be able to manage him however you like. And he has a passion for orchids—I’m sure if you bring Burleigh round, he’ll do marvelous things with the greenhouse and the gardens.”

I don’t point out that the greenhouse has, in fact, been overtaken by brambles and that without the key, I can’t restore it. Nordo I mention that my House doesn’t need a Caretaker who can be managed, but one with fire and strength of will and an unflinching resolve to put Burleigh’s needs first.

Instead, I glance up at the king with what I hope is a wistful expression. “It’s just that everything’s been taken out of my hands. And it’s all so sudden. Your own marriage was a political match—were you happy before Queen Isabella had to return to Spain?”

I refuse to let my gaze falter. The words sound entirely innocent, but it’s the king himself who taught me to play games of strategy, and I know as well as anyone how badly his match to Isabella went. The king gives me a searching look, but I stand my ground, wide-eyed and guileless as only a seventeen-year-old girl with ulterior motives can be.

“No one likes a forced marriage,” I say, letting self-pity creep into my voice. “All I want is a bit of time, and some choice in the matter. In return, I promise to bring Burleigh around, and settle down happily once you’ve found someone I fancy.”

For a long while the king only watches me, with that prying, hawkish gaze of his. I want to shift, to look away, but hold fast, even when I begin to suspect he’s about to drag me off to be married to the faceless Lord Pottsworth by force, if necessary.

“Very well,” the king concedes finally, and I think I might melt with relief. Or at least I do until I hear the rest of what he has to say. “I’ll give you a choice. Marry Lord Pottsworth now, stay on here, and find a way to reconcile the House to him. Or you’re welcome to spend half the summer alone with Burleigh and come August I’ll give the key to Lord Falmouth, should the House still be standing. Falmouth won’t want to marry you—he’s got his eyes set rather higher—but I hear he’s dreadfully hard on chambermaids. Perhapshe could find you a position as a servant here.”

“Lord Falmouth who tore this hole in Burleigh’s walls? That’s hardly much of a choice,” I say, keeping my voice to a petty grumble while my mind races.

“Mm, yes. He’s the one who alerted me to your father’s treasonous inclinations as well. But that,” the king purrs, “is me raising the stakes, you vixen. How badly do you want time with the House? And what do you plan to do with it, I wonder?”

“Host a number of lawn parties,” I answer lightly, though my hands, hidden in my skirts, are balled into fists. “Perhaps take up tennis. Alright, you’ve got a bargain, Uncle Edgar. Come August, should the House still be in need of a Caretaker, I will let it pass to your man Falmouth, without a murmur or a complaint.”

Two months then, for me to succeed where my father failed.

“I still plan to summer in Bath, to keep an eye on things here,” His Majesty warns me. “And I expectunfalteringloyalty from you until your wedding day, of course.”

“That goes without saying,” I answer with a smile. “You’re all I have left in the way of family, Uncle Edgar. I feel far more forgiving now I’m home and you’re allowing me some leeway. I think we’d better let bygones be bygones.”