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“I’ve yet to meet a man or woman alive who can claim such a thing.”
“Perfection?” I think of Erik. He is close. But I am not the only one tormented by ghosts.
“You think of your husband.” She smiles knowingly. “I should ask him back. It seems he has important news?”
“I will fetch him,” I say, standing. A day ago, I would never have dreamed I would be willingly bringing Erik to the queen, for any purpose, but I feel differently after meeting her. Despite the fact that the queen is indeed as beautiful, regal, and fierce as everyone whispers her to be, I am less afraid.
She is exactly as Erik has described, and if Cettina is offering friendship, I shall take it.
“And I gladly accept your offer . . . Cettina.”
“I am glad, Reyne.”
I step back, bow, and bid her adieu.
With a final glance at Queen Cettina, I knock on the wooden doors of her chamber and wait as they creak open.
24
Erik
“We learned of it by chance, Reyne’s brother having overheard a conversation that led us there.”
Despite the importance of this discussion, I cannot help but think of the look Reyne gave me outside the chamber. She was worried.
The entire time she was in here, speaking with Cettina, I paced back and forth in front of the door and imagined all manner of scenarios.
Most of them ended with my wife being unhappy. It wasn’t until I spoke to Cettina myself that I understood the nature of her concern. Having spent much of her life beholden to the whims of her tyrannical father, Cettina has little tolerance for men who force their will upon women, in any manner. I wish she hadn’t thought the worst of me—I would never have forced an unwilling bride to the altar—but I’m relieved she was concerned for my wife.
My wife. I’m desperate to speak to her, but it will have to wait. Before this meeting with Cettina, I arranged for Reyne to be brought to our rooms and assigned a maid, so at least she will be comfortable.
After reassuring Cettina that Moray would indeed urge the Highland Council to stand down, I started to explain what we had learned.
“It appears the attack on Saitford was carried out not by Borderers but”—my fists clench into balls at my side—“by those wishing to incite a war with Meria.”
Cettina, seated once again behind her desk, frowns.
“Who?”
“Lord Rawlins,” I say. Her scowl deepens, for we both know him to be a traitorous bastard. “And your brother-in-law . . . I saw him enter the dovecote.”
As the news penetrates, Cettina’s shoulders rise and fall. Though she is angry, no doubt, this cannot come as a surprise. Whitley is the worst sort of man, one Cettina has loathed since her father first forced Lady Hilla to marry him. Marriage to a king’s daughter had completed his family’s rise to prominence, the coup Whitley himself had never failed to flout.
Until the affair.
Being cast out of court in such a way was the gravest possible insult, and his anger toward Hilla is palpable whenever I’m in their presence. Whether or not Lady Hilla did indeed have an affair with Lord Bowes, I can only speculate on. Cettina will not discuss her sister, and even though they have now been welcomed back at court, they do not reside here and I rarely see them.
“Hilla is with him,” she says quietly.
I was afraid that might be so. Hilla herself told Cettina that Lord Whitley no longer lets her out of his sight. Still, she refuses to leave him, even though her sister has begged her to do so and promised to grant her a divorce.
“There is more dire news than that,” I continue. “We were set upon in the woods by a man named Father Aiken. I believe he is a Shadow Warrior.”
Cettina has even less love for the Prima than she does her brother-in-law, and her expression says as much.
“He claims to be a spy.”
She looks doubtful, which I was as well.
