The Queen's Rising (Untitled Trilogy #1)(85)

“Good night, Amadine.”

I closed the inner door, smoothed the wrinkles from the tapestry. I changed into my night shift, hid my bloodied clothes at the bottom of my trunk, and crawled into bed, the Stone of Eventide still about my neck. I watched as the fire in my hearth began to fade, flame by flame, and thought of Jourdain.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow he would return home.

I closed my eyes and prayed, prayed that Lannon still had a merciful bone in his body.

But all my dreams were consumed with one chilling image I could not break: Jourdain kneeling at the footstool of the throne, his neck being severed by an axe.





TWENTY-SEVEN


THAT WHICH CANNOT BE



Allenach was absent the next morning.

I felt it when I entered the hall, the lord’s absence like a gaping hole in the floor. And there were Rian and Sean, sitting in their usual places at the table on the dais, mopping their porridge up with clumps of bread, too hungry for spoons, as Allenach’s grand chair sat empty between them.

Rian saw me first, his eyes going at once to my bodice, as if he hoped that I might bleed through the fabric. “Ah, good morning, Amadine. I trust you had a good night?”

I sat in the chair beside Sean, smiling gracefully at the servant who brought my bowl of porridge and sliced plums.

“The best sleep I have had in a while, Rian,” I responded. “Thank you for asking.”

Sean said nothing, but he was stiff as a board as the tension between me and his older brother grew taut.

“You have noticed that my father is away,” Rian continued, glancing down the table at me.

“Yes. I see that.”

“He has gone to Lyonesse, to bring MacQuinn before the king.”

I was just raising a spoonful of porridge to my mouth. And my stomach clenched so violently I thought I might heave. But somehow, I swallowed the porridge, felt it clog all the way down my throat to my roiling stomach.

Rian was smiling at me, watching me struggle to eat. “You know what the king likes to do to traitors, Amadine? He cuts off their hands first. Then their feet. Then he gouges out their tongues and eyes. Last, he severs their heads.”

“Enough, Rian,” Sean hissed.

“Amadine needs to prepare herself,” Rian countered. “I would hate for her to think this story has a happy ending.”

I looked to the hall, my eyes going right to Cartier. He was sitting in his usual place with a bowl of porridge before him, Valenians chattering about him like birds. But he was solemn and still, his eyes on me. And then they slid to Rian, and he knew. I watched that Maevan stealth and that Valenian elegance merge, watched as Cartier’s gaze marked Rian as a dead man.

“Did you hear me, Amadine? Or has one of the Valenians caught your interest?”

I set down my spoon and looked at Rian again. “What did you say?”

“I said perhaps I could finish the tour you so wanted yesterday,” Rian said, shoving the last of his bread and porridge in his mouth.

“No thank you.”

“Pity,” he spoke through the crumbs, rising from the table. “I would have loved to show you around.”

Sean and I watched as Rian sauntered from the hall. Only then did I breathe, did I let myself sink deeper in the chair.

“I do hope that your father is pardoned,” Sean murmured, and then he rushed to his feet and left, as if he was embarrassed he had made such a confession.

I forced down a few more bites of porridge and then nudged my bowl aside. My eyes rested on Merei, who was sitting at a table with the rest of her consort, their purple cloaks like gemstones in the gentle light. They were laughing, enjoying the morning, nothing dark on their horizon. And I wanted to go to her, the friend of my heart, and I wanted to tell her everything.

She felt my gaze, looked to me.

She would meet me, if I signaled her. She would come right away, no doubt wondering why I hadn’t met her the night before.

But I had promised that I would not risk her safety, not after I had already endangered her with my wild ploy to fetch the stone. And I was so burdened at that moment, I would undoubtedly tell her everything I shouldn’t.

I rose and quitted the hall, leaving Cartier among the Valenians and Merei among her consort. I returned to my room, so overcome with fear and worry that I lay facedown on my bed. At this very moment, Jourdain was being brought before Lannon in the royal hall. And I had wrought this plan. I had strung it together, using Jourdain as the distraction. But what if I had planned wrong? What if Lannon tortured my patron father? What if he cut him into pieces and staked him on the wall? And what of Luc? Would Lannon punish him too?

It would be my fault. And I could hardly bear it.

My heart beat low and heavy as the hours continued to burn, as morning gave way to afternoon, as afternoon molted into evening. I hardly moved, growing weak with dread and thirst, and then came a knock on my door.

I stood and walked to it, my hand trembling as I swung the door open.

It was Allenach, waiting on my threshold.

I told myself to stand tall, to bear whatever he would say, that no matter what had happened, the mission must continue. We would still storm the castle, with or without Jourdain.

“May I come in?” the lord asked.

I stepped aside so he could enter, shutting the door behind him. He paced to my hearth, stopping only to turn back around, to watch me slowly close the gap between us.