The Queen's Assassin (The Queen's Secret #1)(65)

We hear footsteps in the hallway. Cal takes charge. “The maids are on their way to tidy up. You need to go back to your room. Here’s the plan: We’re going to feel better, but be a bit late, so we’ll join the party at its tail end. The ambassador will be up near the front with the Girts and the king. Once the hunt begins, it’s just a matter of avoiding them.”

“Okay. And what about after? How long is Nhicol going to be here?”

“We’ll figure that out later. Let’s just get through this first.”



* * *





A FEW HOURS LATER, I’m laced into Montrician hunting garb, which basically amounts to a riding habit with puffy sleeves, embroidered with the yellow rose of Argonia. The Montricians hunt in full formal gear, so I have a large white wig on my head as well.

Cal knocks on my door. When I answer, he’s holding up two white eye masks. “I just remembered this is one of those strange Argonian hunting customs.”

“Brilliant,” I say. “With that, and the ridiculous curly white wig you’re wearing, your own mother wouldn’t recognize you.” I cringe. “I’m sorry. I . . .”

Cal is looking out the window at the gardens below. He doesn’t acknowledge my awkward comment about his late mother.

I put on the mask and powder my nose again.

Cal is staring at me.

“What?” I ask him.

“You just—you looked like someone just now,” he says.

“Who?”

He shakes his head and doesn’t say, although I have an inkling of who it might be. “They’re getting lined up. Showtime, Lady Lila.” On our way out the door, he knocks on the wood trim. Aunt Moriah used to do the same thing for good luck. She would like him just for that.

We step into line as King Hansen’s trumpeter announces it’s time to begin. The procession starts forward from the gardens toward the woods. The couple in front of us, two older people donning parasols and lace finery not intended for actual hunting, smile politely.

Seconds after we start, a handsome young man, a bit older than us and wearing a sharp black hunting costume, jogs up behind us. “Have I missed the boring part?” he says to Cal. Then: “Haven’t had the pleasure. I am Lord Mathieu.” He holds out his hand.

Cal shakes it. “Lord Holton,” Cal says, then gestures toward me. “My sister, Lady Lila.”

Cal and I catch each other’s eye. This is the ambassador’s husband. My pulse is racing even though he doesn’t know me. I decide paying as little attention to him as possible is the best strategy, so I simply bow slightly and then walk forward. Cal isn’t as lucky.

“To be quite honest, I’ve never been to one of these things. Spouses typically stay behind, but I insisted on coming along. Montrice has the finest silks and I’m hoping to buy a few dozen bolts to bring back to Renovia. I own drapers’ shops there.”

When the king’s party reaches the edge of the woods, everyone stops. The trumpeter blows the horn to get our attention before making an announcement. He stands on a little wooden stool and shouts: “His Royal Majesty King Hansen and the distinguished Ambassador of Renovia have joined together in the spirit of friendship to offer a generous prize for today’s royal hunt: one thousand coins of silver to whoever fells the largest prey. The horn will blow to announce the end of the hunt, wherein all shall gather here with their conquest.”

“I could win, easy,” Cal whispers to me.

“Don’t be so sure,” I reply. “I’m here.”

He scoffs playfully at that. “In any case, we aren’t going to win that silver because we aren’t drawing attention to ourselves, remember?”

The horn blows. The king and his servants, carrying his extra arrows and swords and daggers, head off down the trail into the darkness of the forest. Ambassador Nhicol follows, and then all the rest of the Montrician nobility after him. Cal and I hold back a bit, waiting for the crowd to disperse among the trees and pathways of the duke’s property. He does have some of the greatest grounds of any estate I’ve ever seen.

“I’m going to catch up with my husband,” Lord Mathieu tells us. “It was a pleasure making your acquaintance. I’m sure we’ll see one another at dinner.”

“The honor was ours,” Cal says, and I repeat the same.

When he’s out of earshot, Cal frowns. “A friendly joint prize between King Hansen and the ambassador?”

I nod. “We need to find out what’s going on here.”

We venture into the woods off the path so we can watch the others.

Dogs bark in the distance. A man shouts. Leaves crunch under feet; a lady lets out a high-pitched shriek, then giggles. We won’t find the answer to the question of how the ambassador became so friendly with the king in the fields. “This is pointless. We should just go back,” I say to Cal. He doesn’t respond. “Cal?” I look around.

“Over here,” he says in a loud whisper.

I follow his voice behind a tall shrub. “What are you doing?”

“Look.” He points at something on the ground.

I lean closer. There’s a bit of glass—something shiny. I reach out to touch it. Cal grabs my arm. “Don’t touch it!” he says. “It might be dangerous!”