Froi shook his head. ‘I have a plan. I’m taking her. Probably to Turla.’
‘Excellent. My plan exactly. If anyone can hide us it’s Ariston. We can leave –’
‘I’m taking her alone.’
Froi heard a sound behind him and saw Lirah standing at the dividing door. She looked at Gargarin.
‘I can’t look after you,’ Froi said. ‘I can’t protect you and Lirah and Quintana.’
‘But I can protect you, Froi,’ Gargarin said. ‘I’ve written to every Provincaro. Every Ambassador. I’ve attempted to contact every mountain tribe. We can build an army, bigger than Bestiano and Nebia’s. Her army, Froi. Without one, she has no power.’
Froi shook his head. ‘You’ll slow us down,’ he said bluntly.
‘But if we get caught, you will be protected by my name,’ Gargarin said. ‘I’m beginning to realise that at a time like this it means something.’
‘Your name is nothing,’ Froi argued. ‘You can’t protect me. Neither of you can. You never did!’
Lirah stood watching them. ‘We stay together. We need you both,’ she said, firmly.
‘He can’t even protect himself,’ Froi shouted. ‘Did he save you from harm? Or me? Do you want to know what they did to me in Sarnak, Gargarin? Do you want to know what they made me do?’
Tears of rage spilled from Froi’s eyes. Because he loved them and he hated them. Because he wanted them safe and he wanted to hurt them beyond anything else. So he spoke the words he had never dared to speak aloud. About the men who controlled the back streets of the Sarnak capital and made him sing on street corners because his voice was sweet and high and a gift from the gods. How the rich merchants would pay to take him home. And he spoke of the time in that stable in Sorel when he tried to take Isaboe of Lumatere. He watched Lirah and Gargarin flinch, as though his words were Gargarin’s cane beating them over and over again until nothing much was left of Gargarin and Lirah’s spirit.
‘You couldn’t protect me, so why would I trust you with Quintana and my son?’
He knocked on Olivier’s door moments later. The lastborn of Sebastabol looked worse for wear, having had little sleep the night before.
‘Let’s talk about what we spoke of last night in the inn,’ Froi said.
Olivier looked down the hallway and ushered him in.
‘When can you be ready?’
‘We are ready.’
They planned to meet the others in the courtyard under the pretence of an excursion into the vicinata. They were to take no possessions with them, for it would draw attention and cause suspicion, and Grijio felt it best that they invite Feliciano along as well.
‘We’re going to see the last days of the greatest show in the kingdom,’ Grijio called out with a wave to his father on the balcony beside the uncle from Avanosh.
Froi felt De Lancey’s eyes on him and there was something in his stare that told Froi he knew what would take place. That Gargarin had already spoken to him.
‘Grij?’ De Lancey called out. They were almost out the gate and they nervously looked back up at the Provincaro.
‘If you and Tippideaux aren’t back in time, I’ll send the Guard to come search for you.’
It was a father’s warning. That whatever the plan was, it would not involve his children.
As they travelled down the road to the vicinata, Tippideaux clutched Quintana’s arm.
‘I’m not feeling myself today,’ she sniffed, and Froi could see she was weeping, truly weeping and not just acting out her part in their charade. ‘All this anger from Father about your nonsense, Grij. It’s upset us all. Upset the Queen.’
Grijio stopped and held out a hand to Quintana. She took it and he pressed a kiss to it. In the eyes of Feliciano it was an apology. In the eyes of the others, a farewell.
‘You’ve never offered anything but friendship, Grijio,’ Quintana said. ‘One day I’ll repay it tenfold despite your poor form these past nights.’
Quintana turned her attention back to Feliciano and linked her arm with his, whilst taking one moment more to clutch Tippideaux’s fingers before walking ahead with the heir of Avanosh.
When they reached the lane that would take them into the vicinata, Olivier indicated the fletcher’s cottage with a slight toss of his head.
‘Be safe, friends,’ Grijio said, quickly embracing Froi and Olivier.
‘Everything is for Charyn,’ Olivier said sombrely, his voice breaking from emotion. ‘Everything.’
Tippideaux quickly hugged Froi. ‘Keep her warm. She’s awfully bad-tempered when she’s cold.’
And then they all caught up with Quintana and Feliciano, full of pretend laughter and talk of the greatest show in the kingdom.
‘Feliciano,’ Tippideaux said in a hushed tone, with a wink towards the stalls they could see at the entrance of the vicinata. ‘Trinkets. A perfect gift for a blushing betrothed.’
He nodded, unaware of what was brewing, and Tippideaux dragged him away.
Froi grabbed Quintana’s hand and then they were running for the fletcher’s cottage.
‘Can we trust this man?’ Froi asked Olivier.
‘Just trust that he will do anything to protect the Princess and the babe,’ Olivier said as they entered the house.
‘This way,’ they heard someone say.
Froi followed the voice down into the cellar, his hand never letting go of Quintana’s. An oil lamp was lit and he saw the fletcher and his wife standing before them.
‘Quick. Help me with this,’ the fletcher said.
It took the weight of Olivier, Froi and the fletcher combined to push aside the stone, revealing a tunnel that would lead to the hills just outside the province to the north.
‘It will take you no longer than a day,’ the man said. ‘I’ll travel behind you soon to replace the stones.’
Olivier handed over a purse of coins.
‘Paladozza must not fall,’ Olivier said firmly.
The fletcher’s wife took the purse of coins from her husband.
‘Can I see?’ she asked, reaching out a hand to Quintana. Froi froze. Don’t touch her, he prayed. The last thing they needed was Quintana’s savage strangeness frightening those who were here to help. But Quintana took the woman’s hand and pressed it against her belly and the woman wept. In return, she placed the purse of coins inside Quintana’s hands.
‘Keep them,’ the fletcher’s wife said. ‘They will come to good use. You can return the favour when you’re settled in the palace with the heir.’
‘We need to go,’ Olivier said.
‘Weapons?’ the man asked.
‘I have a sword and two daggers,’ Froi said.
‘We’re wasting time,’ Olivier hissed, pulling Froi and Quintana away.
‘Here,’ the man said giving Froi and Olivier a bow each and a quiver of arrows. ‘Protect her with your life, lads.’
Chapter 40
Beatriss travelled through the Flatlands with Tarah and Samuel to see how her villagers were faring. They were scattered across the kingdom, some as far away as the rock village, quarrying stone, or the river villages, gutting fish. Most expressed sadness when they heard she would be moving into the palace with Vestie. ‘Always thought we’d be able to return to you,’ they said. ‘We may have work here, but we don’t have a home, Lady Beatriss.’
As they passed the road that led to the village of Fenton she saw a crowd. The Queen’s Guard was there as well and amongst them Trevanion sat astride his horse. Beatriss remembered Isaboe’s words the day the Queen visited and they had travelled back to the palace together. That she was not to expect Trevanion to reveal his feelings of the past. ‘They’re not like us women, Beatriss. For all their strength and might, any talk of the past pains them and if you’re waiting for him to speak words you want to hear, then make the decision to live without him now. For you may never hear them.’
‘What do you think is happening there?’ she asked Samuel.
‘Why, the palace is auctioning the village, Lady Beatriss,’ Samuel said gently. ‘Did you not know? The surviving Fenton villagers will all receive ten pieces of gold to resettle elsewhere or stay if they wish. The Queen says it’s what Lord Selric would have wanted.’