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The assassin cleared his throat. “May I speak with you alone, Majesty?”
Godwin’s frown deepened, and he stopped walking, turning to face the assassin. “You would choose pertinence at a time like this?”
Elma laid a hand on her uncle’s arm. “It’s all right,” she said.
“Do not wander,” said Godwin, his gaze steely. “Go straight to your chambers. Luca’s men will already be there. It’s the safest place.”
“Thank you, Uncle,” Elma said.
Godwin turned on his heel and left them alone in the corridor, the queen and her assassin.
Elma turned to Rune. He seemed more drawn than usual, almost unsteady. “What is it?”
He glanced around as if someone might be listening. But only the usual guards stood at their stations along the corridor, none close enough to hear a quiet conversation. “I don’t like this,” he said at last, a muscle working in his jaw. “There is something rotten here.”
“Your murderous countryman, perhaps?”
She expected him to snipe back, but he only shook his head. “If another assassin were coming to kill you, I would have…shouldhave known about it.”
Elma frowned. “Why? You’ve been away for weeks, at least. While you were crossing the Frozen Sea, perhaps they hired another, in case you failed.”
Rune ran a hand through his white hair. “No. I would have known.”
“You keep saying that. How? Are you in some sort of assassin’s guild? Is there a schedule of the month’s killings posted on the wall?”
He huffed impatiently. “Notquite. Not… like that.”
Elma’s thoughts slid away from Rune and back to the taster, his twisted face. Cora’s red-rimmed, tearful gaze.A death meant for me, thought Elma, again and again. She heard Rune’s voice talking to her but didn’t care to listen. Too many bodies, too much blood, and an unyielding citadel all around her.
Rune’s face appeared in her line of vision, his brows drawn. “YourMajesty,” he said, his voice low. “Are you…”
“I’m fine,” Elma said, coming back to the present in a rush. Her stomach rumbled from lack of food. Somewhere in the near distance, she heard the forceful sound of guards’ voices and the clatter of arms and armor as the search for the Slödavan assassin began.
“Normally, I’d let you get away with that lie,” said Rune, “but I’d rather you be at your mental best just now. I can’t have you wandering straight into the clutches of your would-be killer just because you’re…” he squinted at her, then frowned more deeply, “unwell.”
“I’m not unwell,” she lied again.
But Rune wasn’t so easily dislodged. He pursed his lips, then his expression lit up as though a thought had come to him. “I know just what will lift your spirits. A tasty morsel of information about me. I haven’t told anyone, not even Godwin. It’s a terrible secret.”
Elma couldn’t help but react, the faint urge to laugh at Rune bubbling up from deep down. “I don’t need a distraction, nor do I need cheering up. Let’s—”
Rune shook a finger. “Now, now, Majesty. I don’t see you smiling yet. Haven’t you ever wondered what sort of life I lead back in Slödava?”
She had, but she’d never admit it to him. Elma shrugged.
He grinned. “In the city, I’m known for my taste in fashion.”
Elma stared.
His grin widened, and he struck a casual pose, hand draped over the pommel of his sword. “Are you imagining it? Whatever you’re envisioning, add at least a dozen more silver buttons, a handful of tassels, and —yes, velvet. Scads of it.”
“Fashion,” Elma managed at last, looking him up and down. This was not at all the sort ofterrible secretshe’d imagined he was about to reveal. “But you’re…”
“Dressed as a bodyguard, I’m aware. Do you imagine I lounge around at home, or at feasts and parties, dressed in full leather armor? With my outside boots dirtying the carpets? I think not.”
The mental image of Rune, scarred and glowering, dressed in the finest silks and velvets of a lord with a delicate decorative blade at his hip, his sleeves comically puffy and dangling with tassels, made the urge to laugh even stronger. “I’m sorry, I…” she bit her lip.
“There,” Rune said, his eyes lighting, “don’t you feel better?”
