The Prince of Lies (Night's Masque, #3)(79)

“Much better,” Mal said, and led the way downstairs.



At Whitehall Palace they were admitted to the princes’ chambers with surprising readiness. Mal couldn’t help wondering if this was some stratagem of Henry’s designed to throw them off-balance, or simply boyish impatience. Either way Mal intended to spend as little time in the princes’ company as possible, lest any suspicion of his intent become apparent. He hoped he might be able to talk privily with Kit, however, and glean as much about his situation as possible before deciding on a plan.

The princes’ antechamber had been pressed into service as a schoolroom, though it looked more like a battlefield at the moment. A line of chairs had been arranged at one end, and Prince Henry stood on the middle one, waving a wooden sword. A handful of other boys crouched in front of the improvised battlements, arguing among themselves. Mal caught something about “the heads of our enemies” before the princes’ tutor, a thin-faced man with a shock of white hair, clapped his hands and called the boys to attention.

Prince Henry glared at Mal and Sandy. For a moment Mal thought that Jathekkil would get the better of him, but Henry was evidently in more control of himself than he had been as an infant. Instead he merely thrust his wooden sword through his belt and watched them, arms folded.

It was his elder brother, Edward, who addressed them.

“Gentlemen, what brings you here?”

Mal swept a low bow. “With your permission, Your Highness, I would like to speak to my son. In private.”

“Very well.” The prince gestured for Kit to rise.

Kit got to his feet but said nothing, only stared at the floor. Mal’s heart sank. Had Henry broken his spirit after all?

“Catlyn!” The schoolmaster brought his springy cane down on a pile of books with a sharp thwack. Mal had to suppress his own urge to snap to attention. “Bid your father and uncle good day.”

“Yes, Master Weston.”

“In Latin, boy!”

“Etiam, magister.” Kit bowed, though he still did not meet Mal’s eye. “Salvete, pater et… patrue.”

Mal returned the bow. “Salve, mi fili.”

“You are excused from your lessons, Catlyn,” Weston added. “For one half hour.”

The other boys groaned in envy until a snap from Weston’s cane brought them back to order. Sandy made to cross the space to Kit’s side, but Mal shook his head. He held out a hand, and Kit walked slowly towards him.

“It’s been a long time, son,” Mal said, putting an arm around Kit’s shoulder and leading him towards the door.

Sandy closed in on his other side and tentatively ruffled the boy’s hair. Kit looked up sharply, and Sandy withdrew his hand, a hurt expression in his eyes.

“Give him time,” Mal murmured to his brother. He looked down at Kit. “You’ve grown so much I hardly recognised you.”

Kit said nothing.

“Shall we go along to the gallery?” Mal said as the doors closed behind them. “It’s a little cold outside to walk in the park.”

“The girls walk in the gallery.”

“Oh, well, we wouldn’t want to disturb them, would we? How about the library, then? I think I saw a globe in there.”

Kit shrugged, which Mal took for as much agreement as he was likely to get.

They made their way downstairs in silence, through a parlour where a handful of elderly courtiers snored by the fire, to the prince’s library. Mal closed the double doors carefully behind them.

“How are you enjoying your lessons?” he asked.

Kit shrugged again, then glanced shyly up at him. “I like the Odyssey. We’ve just started reading it in Greek.”

“The Odyssey? I always preferred the Iliad.” Mal sat down by the globe. “What about you, Sandy?”

“I liked the plays, especially The Birds, with all the singing and dancing. I think they must have reminded me of home. Of Vinland.”

Mal shot him a glance. Was he planning to awaken Kiiren? That was the last thing he needed.

“And the princes?” Mal quickly changed the subject. “Are they good companions?”

“Edward will be king one day. I will gladly serve him.”

The boy had been well schooled, he had to give them that. “And Henry?”

Kit’s eyes widened and he glanced from his father to his uncle and back again. Mal gave an inward sigh of relief. They did not own him, then.

“I do not ask you to say anything disloyal,” he told Kit. “But you do not like him as well as his brother, is that it?”

Kit nodded, his mouth twisting in misery. Mal leaned over and kissed his brow.

“The boys at school used to tease me a lot too. But we are stronger than that, eh?”

Kit nodded again.

“Well.” Mal clapped his hands together. “Enough of such gloomy thoughts. How about a game of Hoodman Blind? I think Uncle Sandy should go first.”

They improvised a hood by pulling Sandy’s hat down over his eyes, and Kit dodged around him, giggling. Sandy eventually caught him and made a play of not knowing whether it was Mal or Kit, which earned him some scorn from his nephew.

“Well if you’re so clever, you can take a turn,” Sandy said, and plopped the hat onto Kit’s head. It didn’t need much pulling down to obscure his vision.