The Queen's Assassin (The Queen's Secret #1)(61)

The duke is challenging him. He wants to see Cal’s response to this task.

“Well, get on with it!” the duke shouts. The other men laugh.

“Deia take you,” Cal whispers to the boar. He closes his eyes and quickly slides the dagger across its throat, killing it immediately.

“We’re feasting on boar tonight, gentlemen!” the duke announces.

As Cal walks by him to return to his horse, the duke mutters to him: “Excellent hand with that dagger. Had a lot of practice?”

“On a different kind of hunt,” Cal replies with a grim smile.

The duke snorts.



* * *





“THERE WAS NOTHING AT the inn.” The duchess is standing on the staircase landing when Cal returns from the hunt. She’s changed into an afternoon dress, light pink, with a long brocade jacket over it. The jacket has bell sleeves and a high stiff collar that frames her face. Her hair is pulled into a soft twist. She’s pretty, he admits, and in another lifetime, perhaps he would have appreciated her attentions; but there is business at hand, and he’s still aggravated from the hunt. The duchess is the last thing he wants to deal with.

“No trunks, no wardrobe—it appears all you had are the clothes on your back,” she says.

“Of course,” Cal says. “We traveled lightly. No time for a lot of baggage.” He nods and begins walking past her.

She turns as if to follow. “No, it appears not. Where in Renovia did you say you called? I have many friends in Serrone.”

He stops, one foot on the stair. “You know, I can’t quite recall the names . . . My sister usually keeps track of these things.”

“Ah. Yes. Your sister.”

He doesn’t like the way she said that. He turns and regards her coldly. “If you’ll excuse me, I do need to get cleaned up.”

The duchess taps her forehead with her hand and says, “Silly me, yes, of course, I’m so sorry. Do get out of those filthy clothes! I have to go take care of something in the meantime. It’s supposed to be a surprise, but, well, oh, I just can’t keep it to myself! It’s too exciting.”

Cal doesn’t like these games of intrigue but the only way to get her to go away is to play along. He tries to soften his expression into something friendlier. “Perhaps I can spare a moment.”

She leans forward and puts her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t say a word . . . and if you do, I’ll know who told! But”—she pokes his arm—“I have the perfect match in mind for your sister.” She pulls her hand away and smiles broadly.

“A match?”

“Well, since you are affianced, it is only right that she is married off as well, don’t you think?” asks the duchess. “A beautiful eligible maiden like her isn’t set to be an old maid.”

Cal coughs. “I am sure Lila will appreciate your concern. Where is my dear sister, if I may ask?”

“Oh, I’ve sent her away with the maid for a dress fitting. As I told her the other day, she can’t meet the king wearing those clothes. So she won’t be back in time for dinner. Will most likely be quite late before she returns. You’ll probably be asleep. Do be sure to get some rest tonight,” she drawls. “Tomorrow is the king’s weekly audience.”

With that, she turns on her heel and walks down the hallway, waving herself with her fan.

Her words hit him like a slap. The duchess is no fool. She has not only ensured that he won’t see Shadow that evening; she is also intent on matching her with someone else. The thought brings an ache to his chest.

But there is nothing between them—only unspoken embraces in the night and veiled conversations at breakfast. They have made no promises to each other, and likely never will.

Perhaps it’s best if Duchess Girt does find Shadow a suitable gentleman. After all, what can Cal give her? He does not even have his life to offer; it already belongs to the queen.





CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Shadow

“YOU WILL GET HURT, IF you flirt, with Duchess Girt,” I sing to Cal after I fling the door open to let him inside my room. “Thought of that one last night. Couldn’t wait to sing it to you,” I say, with forced cheer. Without him around yesterday, I was able to clear my head. Whatever might have been between us is over—it has to be—and the strange conversation at yesterday’s breakfast was just the last part of it.

Caledon Holt is the Queen’s Assassin and I am meant for the Guild. We are here to uncover a conspiracy and learn if Grand Prince Alast was working with our enemy kingdom against the Renovian throne. I cannot believe that he was a traitor in the first place, even though I saw him try to kill me with my own eyes.

Maybe if I make light of our hostess, Cal will lose that intense look in his eyes whenever he catches mine. I can’t bear it anymore.

“You are merry today,” he says as he shuts the door behind him.

“Why shouldn’t I be? We are to meet King Hansen today; isn’t that what we’re here for?”

Cal walks over to the window and leans on the sill. “It’s not as simple as that.”

“No, I suppose not,” I admit. “It’s not as if he’ll let us into his confidence right away.”

“He might,” Cal says slowly, as if something has just occurred to him. “Especially if he takes to you.”