The Queen's Assassin (The Queen's Secret #1)(60)

“And how did you propose, brother? Seeing that you had sworn off marriage and children to look after Mother’s estate,” says Shadow softly.

“Ah, but she too had vowed not to marry,” Cal answers. “So we promised to be unmarried to each other, but together, forever.”

“What an atypical arrangement,” says Shadow, not quite meeting his eye.

The duchess was fully agitated by now. “Sworn off marriage and children? How strange! What kind of engagement is this?” She takes an aggressive bite of toast.

“A promise between two souls,” he says, but he only has eyes for Shadow.

“A promise can be broken,” Shadow replies.

“Not mine,” he says, so quietly that he’s not sure she can hear him.

“Nor mine,” she says, which means that she did.

They catch each other’s eye, and Cal wants nothing more than to reach across the table for her hand and pull her to him. But they are at the Duke and Duchess of Girt’s table, and must conform to propriety.



* * *





THE SNAP OF THE duchess’s fan brings them back to the present. The duchess flicks it open once more with a snap of her wrist and begins airing herself. Then she closes the fan in her right hand, her eyes trained on Cal. She knows exactly what she is doing and what she has signaled. “Dear Lord Holton, it certainly doesn’t sound like any kind of engagement to me,” Duchess Girt drawls. “Besides, the only reason to get married is so one can have affairs.”

The duke is oblivious to all of this. He seems to regard himself as above everyone else, even—and maybe especially—his wife. Like they’re all children he’s tolerating until they’re sent back into the nursery with the governess. He continues to read the previous day’s news, paying no mind to the way his wife gushes over Cal. Maybe he really doesn’t notice. Or maybe he hopes someone will take her away from him, or at least entertain her for a while.

He wishes he and Shadow were alone, so they could talk more openly. He tries to catch her eye but she is resolutely studying her plate, as if her breakfast were the most interesting thing in the world.

A loud bell clangs outside. The duke throws down his paper. “Hunt is on. Come on, Holton.” The duke and duchess rise from the table, and there’s a clatter of activity as servants rush behind them, gathering dirty cups and plates. The duchess bustles away and the duke marches out after her. Cal follows, except Shadow holds him back. “A word, brother?”

He nods and they find a quiet alcove. “Yes?”

Her eyes are dewy and her cheeks flushed. It looks as if she wants to say something important, but all she says is, “Be careful, on the hunt.”

“Is that all?” he asks.

She nods.

“I assure you I shall return in one piece, my lady,” he says, and bows.



* * *





CAL JOINS THE OTHER men gathering near the stable, hunting dogs milling about between them. He chooses a bow and quiver from the duke’s collection even though he has no intention of using it. He has always detested the sport.

The duke introduces him. “Lord Holton of Argonia.” The duke’s friends murmur appropriate greetings. This is the center of the aristocracy and Cal has been accepted as one of their own, a foreign lord who has won the duke’s approval.

Hours pass on the duke’s hunt. Cal lags behind the men with his borrowed bow and borrowed horse. The boar they’re chasing holds no interest for him, but then he overhears a conversation that does. “Renovian problem,” someone says. He rides up to try to get closer so he can hear them better.

“They’ll take us if we don’t take them first,” says a second voice.

“Don’t disagree.”

“Montrice cannot fall.”

“War is inevitable.”

But before he can hear more, the dogs begin running and barking furiously: They’ve found the boar. They corner the animal in some dense hedges. It cowers there, squealing. The sound is horrendous. The men rush forward, praising the dogs: “Excellent work, Whitefoot” and “Good job, Jak.”

Cornering an animal with dogs is not hunting, Cal thinks. But at least it’s nearly over and they can soon go back to the house. He’s eager to talk to Shadow about the day and the snippet about Renovia he overheard.

The men all move aside to allow the duke to ride through and approach the boar. He dismounts and removes a dagger from his boot. “Lord Holton,” he says.

All the men look at him. Cal is taken aback. “Yes?”

The duke twists his wrist and holds the dagger out, handle toward Cal. “Please, do the honors.”

“Your Grace, I thank you, but that isn’t necessary. It is your hunt, after all.”

But the duke motions with the dagger again. “I insist.”

There’s no way out of this. Cal jumps down from the horse and walks toward the duke. He takes the dagger. The duke watches him as he moves past the dogs toward the scared boar. It lets out a snorting squeal. The dogs begin barking again.

“Quiet!” the duke yells at them.

Cal looks at the boar, shaking and pawing at the dirt. To those who worship Deia, causing an animal fear before killing it makes it inedible. It becomes cruelty for sport, rather than survival, and interferes with the balance of energy. Cal may not be an incredibly religious man, but he still has respect for Guild customs.