The Queen's Assassin (The Queen's Secret #1)(70)

Once she’s gone, the swoosh of her gown fading into the house somewhere, Shadow says, “Do you need something?” She is standing by the window with her arms crossed.

Cal’s taken aback. “I thought we would talk about—” He is about to say “the duke” but he doesn’t get a chance.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she snaps.

He runs his hands over his face and hair in frustration. “Why are you so upset with me? Don’t we have more important things to worry about?”

She looks out the window.

“I already told you . . .” He pauses to collect his thoughts. He thinks she could be jealous but he can’t be sure. Besides, if Shadow cares for him, wouldn’t she say something? It’s not as if she’s shy, like he keeps telling people. “All I did was kiss a girl I didn’t particularly want to kiss, but I did it, for us.”

“For me? You kissed her for me?” Shadow whips from the window. “Should I be grateful? Should I kiss the king too? For you?”

“If it comes down to it, if it helps us uncover the conspiracy,” he says. He wants her to understand this is all for the greater good. “We are here for the queen. So can we please do what we’re here to do?”

Shadow rubs her forehead. “Yes. Of course. I think I’m just tired. And overwhelmed.”

Hooves clack on cobblestones outside the window. They see the carriage bringing the vizier and duchess to town. Shadow pulls the velvet curtain halfway across the window. “There, they’re out of our hair now. Where’s the duke? Did he ever mention where he was going to be today?”

Cal scans his memory, trying to recall if Duke Girt said anything at breakfast. “Not that I recall. Let’s go find out.”

They go down to the breakfast room, the smallest of the estate’s dining spaces, to ask for fresh tea and something light to eat. Cal picks up that morning’s discarded news and scans the headings.

QUEEN OF RENOVIA TO VISIT MONTRICE, CROWN PRINCESS TO ACCOMPANY HER

Cal wonders if the queen has come to Montrice to check on his work, if she will send a message somehow.

A few minutes later, a maid arrives with a tea service, a bowl of fruit, and an assortment of breads and pastries. Cal thanks her and says, “Miss, do you happen to know where we can find the duke?”

“Oh, he’s gone to town, to the solicitor’s office, my lord,” the maid responds.

“Any idea when he’ll return?”

“Usually when the duke goes to town, he’s gone until early evening, my lord. He left orders not to serve a full luncheon this afternoon. Do you need anything more?”

“No, thank you,” Cal says.

As soon as she leaves the room, he and Shadow nod to each other. Today they will make a much more thorough search of the duke’s study. Cal hopes he won’t have to kiss anybody to get out of it.



* * *





CAL LISTENS AT THE doorway like the last time. Nothing. Shadow turns the knob—it doesn’t budge. Locked.

“Now what?” Shadow says. “I doubt we’ll get another chance. We can’t stay here forever. Maybe we can go outside, try to get in the window? It may even be open for air.”

But Cal is already picking the lock with the sharp tip of his dagger. He jerks it to the side; there’s a satisfying click. He returns the dagger to its sheath and turns the knob again. The door swings open. “Listen for anyone snooping around,” he tells Shadow.

“Always.”

Cal closes the door and locks it behind them. He checks the windows. If the duke comes back earlier than expected, they can climb out and drop down fairly easily. The drop is only about six feet. There are bushes, but if they fall in the right place they can avoid those.

He didn’t notice the first time, but the duke’s office is filthy with dust. The maids must not be allowed in very often. There are stacks of papers on the desk, some discarded drafts with large inkblots marring the words, some with lines of text crossed out. All of them appear to be real estate and tax transactions or household expense logs, receipts, records of staff payment. Cal is careful not to move anything out of place—he knows that even if it appears to be a reckless mess, the duke almost certainly has a method, and will be able to tell if something is amiss.

Shadow scans the shelves on the wall. There’s far too much to go through in detail, row upon row of old ledgers and saved papers stored in leather boxes, lined up by size. She takes one of the boxes off the shelf and lifts the lid. “Nothing,” she says. “Same as what’s on the desk.”

The desk has drawers on each side. Cal opens them one by one as Shadow had the first time they were in the study. Papers. A book of Montrician history going back to the time of the ancients. Quills. An old, stained inkstand. Empty ink bottles. Full ink bottles.

“This is odd.” Shadow had stood on a stool and taken one of the boxes from the top shelf. It’s opened on a petite round side table next to a reading chair. She holds up a piece of paper. “Look.”

Cal takes the paper from her and reads it.

BILL OF MORTALITY

A REPORT MADE TO THE KING’S MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY

By the company of the parish clerks of the capital of Montrice

Does hereby declare the mortal deaths of Their Royal Highnesses, The Grand Duke and Duchess of Girt