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“Then at least he will know your last thought was of him.”
Kel did not see how that mattered much. “When he becomes King—”
“Then he will take the Lion Ring and throw it into the sea,” said Lilibet. “After that, Aigon will protect him. When a God takes overfor you, Kel Saren, then you can lay down your duty. Do you understand?”
Kel was not sure he did. “I will be more careful,” he said. “My first thought is always of Conor. Your Highness.”
The Queen gave him a hard look before she walked away—one that, Kel sensed, indicated that she suspected there was something he was not telling her. Which was true enough.
It had been an odd conversation. Kel felt uneasy as he walked slowly back toward the Castel Mitat. What had Lilibet meant, that Conor could not survive without him? She did not know the danger Conor was in from Prosper Beck. Was there someotherdanger she dreaded, something of which Kel was unaware?
His musings were cut short by Delfina, hurrying toward him across the Palace lawns. She was bright red under her mobcap, having apparently searched for him all over the grounds. Jolivet was waiting in the Prince’s rooms, she said; he wanted to see Kel immediately. Also, she added in an accusatory fashion, the heat had aggravated her skin condition, and she was going to see Gasquet.
“He’ll put leeches on you,” Kel warned as she hurried off, but she ignored him. He struck out for the Castel Mitat on his own, passing two of the King’s old hunting hounds, asleep and snoring in the grass. “You’ve the right idea,” he told them. “Continue as you are.”
He couldn’t help but wonder what it was Jolivet wanted to talk to him about. Usually if Jolivet sought him out it was about sword practice, but Kel was hardly in shape for that. Perhaps Jolivet or his squadron had learned something about the attack in the alley, in which case Kel could only hope the Legate had not discovered too much.
When he reached the rooms he shared with Conor, he braced himself to find Jolivet waiting for him, his long face glowering beneath his Arrow Squadron helmet. But there was no Jolivet there when he opened the door.
Instead, sitting on a plum-colored silk divan, was Antonetta Alleyne.
Beside her was a slim girl in a loose yellow gown, over which she wore a short capelet of saffron velvet. The hood of the capelet was drawn up, hiding her face. One of Antonetta’s maids, Kel assumed.
Antonetta herself wore a robin’s-egg-blue gown with puffed sleeves, the puffs secured with white ribbons. Blue powder had been combed through her curls, turning her hair a color darker than her eyes. When she saw him come in, she looked up and for a moment a look of unguarded relief crossed her face.
It was gone a moment later, leaving Kel to wonder if he’d really seen it at all.
“Oh, good,” she said, clapping her hands together as if she were at the theater. “You’re here. Do come in, and close the door behind you.”
“How did you persuade Delfina to tell me Jolivet was here?” Kel said, closing the door but not locking it. “Perhaps she is more trusting than I thought.”
“No. Just susceptible to bribery. Most people are.”
Antonetta smiled, and Kel could not help but think about what had passed before his eyes as he lay dying in that alley off the Key. His vision of Antonetta, in tears. But here she was, smiling that artificial smile that drove him out of his mind. He said tightly, “But why bother bribing Delfina? I assume you’re here to see Conor. He’s out—”
“I’m not looking for him,” Antonetta said. “In fact, he’s meeting with my mother, so I knew hewouldn’tbe here.” She winked at Kel. “I brought someone to seeyou.” She shook her companion, who had been utterly silent since Kel had arrived, by the shoulder. “Go on, now!”
Kel thought he heard a weary sigh. The young woman beside Antonetta raised her hands and pushed back her yellow hood. Familiar dark-red hair spilled down her back as she looked wryly at Kel.
Lin Caster.
She looked younger than he recalled. He remembered carefulhands, a stern, sweet voice, strangely calming in its evenness. For the first time he noted Lin had a curious face, inquisitive green eyes and decided eyebrows. He supposed she’d always looked this way, and his fever had made him think of her as older, more authoritative. Well, the fever and the fact that she’d thrown Conor out of the room.
“Antonetta,” Kel said. “What is this?”
Lin looked up. “I apologize for surprising you,” she said, in that rich voice that seemed at odds with her delicate stature. “But you were my patient and I wished to see if you’d healed. Demoselle Alleyne kindly brought me into the Palace—”
“Smuggledyou into the Palace,” said Antonetta, sounding pleased with herself. “The moment I heard that you’d been hurt, and that your physician wasn’t returning because she was afraid of Conor, I knew I had to dosomething—”
Lin rose to her feet. It was odd to see her dressed in yellow velvet. Kel knew she was Ashkar—she was Mayesh’s granddaughter, she wore the traditional hollow circle on a chain around her throat—and yet, out of the traditional gray clothes, she looked like any Castellani maid or merchant’s daughter. No wonder the dress was too big on her, he thought. It wasn’t hers.
“I am notafraidof the Prince,” said Lin. “He asked me not to return.” She sounded calm, as if she were oblivious to the danger of ignoring a royal request.
Antonetta giggled at Kel’s expression. “It’ssucha wonderful trick we’ve played on Conor,” she said. “Lin did tell me he’d asked her not to come back to Marivent, but I told her not to fret about the Prince’s tempers. He loves to be dramatic.”
Kel rubbed his temples with his fingers. He was beginning to get a headache. “But—the two of you—how did you meet?”
“Through my dressmaker,” said Antonetta.
