"They left spies behind?"
"I believe there have been a few in place here in Esphania for some time, your highness," the countess added as she took a small packet of notes out of her reticule and handed over the first sheet. "The recipe for the solution-all relatively common substances. This," and she passed over another sheet before Jamas had a chance to read the first, "is another contact poison that is soaked into things as innocent as the brushes you use on your hair, the stick you carry to ride, your favorite saddle, your usual chair. Minute portions, but gradually, daily contact would put enough in your body to be effective."
"Duke Kesuth?" Jamas asked.
"I fear so," Sollie said with a sigh. "And Willow's father, too. For why else would such a capable man, and such a strong fine horse, have such a bizarre accident?" She reached over to pat Willow's hand, for the reminder saddened the princess. "I think now that they believe they have set such… arrangements… in place, they will wait to hear of sudden indispositions of the Prince of Esphania."
"And my unexpected demise at an early age?" Jamas asked, pulling his mouth down in a suitably lugubrious smile, though his eyes danced. When the countess nodded solemnly, he asked, "And how long should that take?"
Sollie shrugged. "We've never been able to estimate that because we never knew when the victims were first… ah… poisoned but you are a young, healthy man and would not succumb too easily."
"Your queen has been a very busy woman, has she not?"
The countess gave another little shudder. "Endlessly. One never knows what she'll do next. I have observed that the queen enjoys scheming and is always positive that others are so involved. As if we all had her greed for power."
"My, she is a virago!" Jamas gave a mock shudder of fear.
"Do not underestimate her," princess and countess said simultaneously.
"Oh, I do not," Jamas assured them. "Cambion, what new apparel has reached my wardrobes? Would you know?"
"I do, indeed, my Prince, for I put the packages in a separate place for you to inspect at your convenience even before I had any notion the contents might put you in danger."
"All right." Jamas handed Cambion the recipe for the antidotal solution. "Get Frenery to collect these items." Niffy me-rowed. "Oh? They might be in Mangan's possession? Hmm, that will make it even simpler. Cambion, you have just been promoted to launderer. Would they have dusted my boots, d'you think?"
"Not only your boots but every shoe you own," Sollie said firmly to counteract his levity. "They even mentioned how leather holds the poison better than cloth. Your feet, when warmed by even such minor exercise as walking, would absorb more that way."
"As well that my shoemaker has my last fitting and can make replacements for all my footwear."
And so they planned to combat the threat. The countess was spirited through the secret passageways to Mangan's tower where, with Cambion, she made safe the new garments-rather beautifully embroidered shirts-which Jamas then wore whenever possible.
"But where will Sollie go?" Willow asked when the first excitement of their counter-deception was complete. "I mean, the tower is lovely but is it safe?"
"Safe enough for the nonce, but perhaps she would enjoy the freedom of our honeymoon lodge? That is not only isolated but protected by the Elbow guard detachment."
"Oh," and Willow's face was wistful.
"Ah, then, you don't like to think of anyone using our retreat?" Jamas wound a strand of her silky black hair around his finger. And laughed when she blushed. "Then I shall think of another refuge."
"Is there not a place in the city itself…"
"A good idea. Hide something where it is most visible. No one need remark on a widow, possibly slightly infirm, taking a house in a quiet square, now would they? I know the very one." Jamas gave the orders to Cambion, who had not thought to have so many diverse tasks as his prince's aide. "And you, my love, will still have the good countess nearby until your mother is safely within our boundaries, too."
The young equerry had made so much use of the secret passageways that he knew almost as many as his prince and Grenejon did. So he made all the arrangements through an intermediary and even employed his younger brother as the "grandson" of the elderly widow because, as he told his prince, "Simon is so close-mouthed, he never says two words when a nod or a shrug will suffice."
THE PRINCE WAS breaking in his new boots when an officer of the guard requested entry.
"My Prince," and he brought his right fist smartly across his chest in a thumping salute, "a small company of men, Prince Mavron at their head, have just received permission to pass through the Elbow."
"On, indeed? Did they vouchsafe why they are coming on this visit?"
"To collect Lady Laurel for her imminent wedding!" Jamas was as glad that Willow was with her ladies or she would lose all the self-confidence she had acquired in her married life.
"How shocking! And she four weeks the bride of Baron Illify. Whatever is Egdril thinking of? Form up a guard of honor to escort the good prince." And he waved the young lieutenant to depart on his mission. "Frenery," and when his secretary appeared, "please to let Bishop Wodarick know that his presence is respectfully requested here at the palace for tea. And he is to bring the registry book with him, if he would not mind. We might need that, too." Frenery turned to leave on that errand. "Oh, and tell the chatelaine that Prince Mavron is guesting with us tonight. We'll have to have something more special than the light supper we had ordered."
CONSEQUENTLY WHEN the troop with Mavron at its fore trotted into the courtyard, the prince and princess, flanked by the tall, dignified bishop, welcomed their royal visitor.
"My dear Mavron, how good it is to see you so soon again. What can bring you here?"
"Did not my father leave word that I was to escort the Lady Laurel back to Mauritia?" Mavron's shrewd eyes were watching Princess Willow who regarded him evenly.
"In his note to me, he did say something of the sort but I doubt very much if my sister-in-law will wish to leave."
"Oh, and why?"
"Where are my manners? Do come in, Prince Mavron. Bishop Wodarick has joined us for tea. Surely a cup will do you good after your long ride, and we can forgive your travel dust since we are all informal here."
"Did you by any chance bring letters from my mother for me, cousin?" Princess Willow asked with a hopeful expression on her face.
Mavron hesitated between one step and another and frowned down.
"But surely you must know, Princess…"
"Know what?" Willow's hand went to her chest, her eyes widened with panic.
Jamas thought she had struck just the right tone of surprise in her dissembling.
"That your mother, and indeed, your younger sisters have all left Mauritia?"
"Oh, my, they have?" The princess was the epitome of surprise. "Oh, so they did get permission to visit my paternal uncle in Sarmarland? Mother has wanted to retire there for some time, you know. I believe she asked her majesty's permission for the visit some time ago! That may be why I have not heard. It would take a long time for letters from Sarmarland to arrive here in Esphania, would it not?"
"Sarmarland? Your uncle Barrein?" Mavron absorbed that information and nodded. "Perhaps that is the case, then."
"I'm sure it is," Princess Willow said, teapot pointed over a fresh cup and saucer. "Tea, then? Milk? And no sugar, if I remember correctly."
"Just so."
"Now, about Laurel," Willow said, for she and Jamas had agreed not to prevaricate with Prince Mavron. She smiled and even managed a light giggle. "It was ever so romantic."
"What?" Mavron did not even get a chance for a sip of the tea.
"Why, her elopement."