The Queen's Assassin (The Queen's Secret #1)(64)

Shadow kicks Cal under the table.

The duchess continues talking. “They will stay here, of course, since their country house is a bit away, and we have the room.”

“Did you say the Ambassador of Renovia is staying here?” Cal asks.

“Yes, he was home in his own country but just returned to Montrice for—what was it—a missing piece of art? Something valuable.” She looks at the duke.

He startles and looks up from the book he’s reading. “What was that?”

“Oh, never mind. What do you think the ambassador is looking for, Lord Holton?” She bats her eyelashes at him.

Cal has no idea. But he does know he must keep away from the ambassador, who is sure to recognize him as the lowly blacksmith who killed the grand prince and escaped from Deersia.

“Who can say?” says Cal. “But are you wise to host the Renovians? I think only of your safety, Your Grace.”

“Oh! You are too sweet. Worrying about me. There is still peace between the two kingdoms, is there not? Besides, we are well protected here.” She looks over at her husband, who doesn’t seem to be aware of anything that’s happening around him.

“We are quite friendly with the ambassador. I cannot wait to introduce him to my distinguished guests. But it will have to wait, I’m afraid, because they’re due to arrive late in the evening. I’m sure they’ll want to retire immediately. But breakfast tomorrow—it will be a treat! The cook will prepare a special batch of scones.”

The duchess continues telling them her complete breakfast menu, but Cal tunes her out. He has to figure out how to avoid being introduced to Ambassador Nhicol and the Renovian entourage.



* * *





CAL EXPLAINS THE DANGER he’s in while Shadow paces the room. Her pink dressing gown, a gift from Duchess Girt, billows out behind her as she goes, so it looks like it’s chasing after her, trying to keep up. She’s taken her wig and jewelry off, so her wavy dark hair, growing out already, rests around her ears in a short, cropped bob. Cal likes the way it frames her face.

The duke and duchess have gone to bed, with orders to be awakened when the ambassador arrives.

“I can’t go to breakfast; I will stay up here while you make excuses for me,” he tells her.

“What?” she asks, pinching her nose.

“I’ve caught some kind of fever, some kind of terrible disease from Argonia,” he instructs.

“But then I have to go down and meet him?” she says, obviously panicked.

“Shadow.”

“Listen, I’m pretty certain I’ve met him before as well. He bought honey from my aunts. I can’t see him! He’ll know I’m Renovian!”

Cal is firm. “The ambassador isn’t going to remember you simply because you met him once. He meets quite a few people.”

“What if we’ve both fallen ill? That way it’s more believable, especially if we’ve caught something on our travels,” she says triumphantly.

Cal relents. “That’s fine. We’re both ill, then. I’ll tell the maid to bring up toast and tea. But we need to be able to go on the royal hunt somehow. The king himself invited us.”

If he’s suspicious about her anxiety regarding the Renovian ambassador, he chalks it up to her general inexperience and forgets about it soon enough.





CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Shadow

THE DUCHESS IS HEARTBROKEN THAT we’ll miss her extravagant breakfast, but when the maid says we might be contagious and have both been revisited by our dinners—thanks to a hefty dose of ipecac syrup I found in the drawer of the vanity—she backs down and wishes us a speedy recovery.

We can’t play sick for too long, or else the duchess will fetch a doctor, and he’ll know we’re not truly ill.

After the maid delivers my tea and toast, Cal calls me to his room to discuss the situation. I am wracked with guilt. This valuable “missing art” Nhicol is searching for in Montrice is sure to be me. My mother is quite well positioned at court and has surely alerted the authorities to begin their search. I can’t let him find me. I can’t.

“I’ve been thinking,” Cal announces as soon as I enter the room and shut the door. “These royal hunts are always so big. We can probably avoid Nhicol altogether if we’re careful.” He’s standing by the window, looking out at the grounds of the Girt estate.

“I thought of that too. But—what if we’re not careful enough? What then?” I can just imagine the scene: the ambassador recognizes us as Renovian and unmasks our true nationality to the king, who decides we are spies and sends us to the dungeons, or worse, the gallows. Or worse, my mother discovers exactly where I am and what I’m up to.

Cal paces back and forth a couple times. “How do we know he isn’t already aware that we’re here or who we really are? Maybe this is part of the queen’s plan.”

“But why would she send him here without sending word?” I ask.

“The question isn’t whether she would send word, the question is would she send him here without telling him that we’re here.” Cal takes a sip of tea and grimaces. “Or is he here for his own reasons?”

“I have no idea. But until we know, we have to stay away. As you mentioned earlier, he can easily be an Aphrasian spy, or a double agent. We don’t know. We need to find out what he’s doing here before we let him see us.”