“Majesty. Yes, Majesty.” This time, he did knock his head against the grass.
“You’ve met already?” Fastia asked.
“I went to the chapel of Saint Lier,” the queen said. “This young man was there, praying like a poet. They teach prayer like that only on the islands. I knew he must be with Fail.”
“Your Majesty, please forgive any impertinence I might have—”
The king interrupted Neil. “You went without an escort? To the docks?”
“My guard was near, and Erren just outside, and I was hooded. Disguised, as it were.”
“It was foolish, Muriele, especially in these times.”
“I’m sorry if I worried you.”
“Worried? I did not know. That’s what worries, after the fact. From now on you will not go about without escort. Please.” He seemed to realize that his voice had turned sharp, and calmed it. “We’ll discuss it later,” he said. “I don’t want to welcome Fail and his young guest with a family quarrel.”
“Speaking of quarrels,” Queen Muriele said, “I hope you will all excuse me a moment. I see someone with whom I need to speak. Young MeqVren, I apologize for my deception, but it was worth it to see your face, just now.” She looked over at her husband. “I’m going only so far as over there,” she said, “if you wanted to know.”
Neil was glad she had switched the object of her conversation so quickly, for he had nothing at all to reply. He felt guilty for something he could not name.
“It had to be Fastia,” Anne told Austra as the two girls walked their horses up the violet-spangled Sleeve. The air was thick with spring perfumes, but Anne was too agitated to enjoy them.
“Fastia is usually more direct,” Austra disagreed. “She would have questioned you about the rose, not taunted you with it.”
“Not if she already knew everything.”
“She doesn’t know everything,” Austra said. “She can’t.”
“Who did it, then? Lesbeth?”
“She has changed,”Austra pointed out. “Become more political. Maybe she’s changed as much as Fastia has, but we just don’t know it yet.”
Anne considered that for a moment, shifting her seat a bit. She despised riding sidesaddle—or slidesaddle, as it ought to be called. She always felt as if she was just about to slip off. If she and Austra were alone, she would switch in an instant to a more natural mode of riding, underskirts be damned.
But they weren’t alone. Half the nobles in the kingdom were riding up the gently rising field.
“I can’t believe that. Lesbeth wouldn’t betray me any more than you would.”
“You suspect me?” Austra asked indignantly.
“Hush, you stupid girl. Of course not. That’s what I just said.”
“Oh. Well, who, then? Who has a key to your rooms? Only Fastia.”
“Maybe she forgot to lock the door.”
“I doubt that,” Austra said. “I do, too. Still—”
“Your mother.”
“That’s true. Mother certainly has a key. But—”
“No. Here comes your mother.”
Anne looked up and, with a sudden dismayed prickling, realized it was true. Muriele Dare née de Liery, Queen of Crotheny, was trotting her black Vitellian mare away from her retinue and toward Anne and Austra.
“Good morning, Austra,” Muriele said.
“Morning, Your Majesty.”
“I wonder if I might ride with my daughter for a few mo ments. Alone.”
“Of course, Your Majesty!” Austra immediately switched her reins and trotted off, leaving only an apologetic and worried glance. If Anne was in trouble, odds were good that Austra was, too.
“You girls seem agitated about something this morning,” Muriele observed. “And you aren’t riding with the royal party.”
“I had a bad dream,” Anne told her. It was part of the truth, at least. “And no one told us we had to ride with the royal party.”
“That’s a shame about the dream. I’ll have Fastia bring you some fennage tea tonight. It’s said to keep Black Mary away.”
Anne shrugged.
“I think there’s more to it than bad dreams, however. Fastia believes there is a deeper cause in your agitation.”
“Fastia doesn’t like me,” Anne replied.
“On the contrary. Your sister loves you, as well you know. She just doesn’t approve of you all of the time, as well she shouldn’t.”
“All sorts of people disapprove of me,” Anne muttered.
Her mother searched her with her jade-green gaze. “You are a princess, Anne. You have yet to take that seriously. In childhood, it is forgiven—for a time. But you’ve entered into your marriageable years, and it is well past time for you to give up childish behavior. Your father and I were both terribly embarrassed by the incident with the greft of Austgarth—”
“He was a disgusting old man. You can’t expect me—”
“He is a gentleman, and more, his allegiance is of the utmost importance to us. You find the well-being of your fa-ther’s kingdom disgusting? Do you know how many of your ancestors have perished for this country?”
“That’s not fair.”
“Fair? We are not like normal people, Anne. Many of our choices are made for us by our birth.”
“Lesbeth is marrying for love!”
Muriele shook her head. “Ah, this is what I feared, and what Fastia feared, as well. Hers is a fortunate match, but Lesbeth knows no more of love than you do.”
“Oh, yes, Mother, as if you know the slightest thing about love!” Anne exploded. “All of Eslen knows Father spends more time with the lady Gramme than ever he did in your chambers.”
Her mother could move quickly, at times. Anne never saw the slap coming until her face was already stinging from it.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Muriele said, her voice low, flat, and as dangerous as Anne had ever heard it.
Tears welled in Anne’s eyes and her throat swelled. I will not cry, she told herself.
“Now. Listen to me. There are three young men here today, all comely after a fashion. Are you listening? They are Wingaln Kathson of Avlham, William Fullham of the Winston Baronet, and Duncath MeqAvhan. Any of them would be a good match. None of them are disgusting old men. I expect you to entertain each, do you understand? They have come solely to meet you.”
Anne rode in sullen silence.
“Do you understand?” Muriele repeated.
“Yes. How will I know them?”
“You will be introduced, never fear. It is arranged.”
“Very well. I understand.”
“Anne, this is all for your own good.”
“How fortunate that someone should know what is good for me.”
“Don’t be a brat. This is your sister’s birthday. Put on a happy face—if not for me, then for her. And for my sake, let us have an end to our arguments, please?” Muriele smiled the cold little smile that Anne never trusted.
“Yes, Mother.”
But inside, despite the slap that still burned her face, Anne’s heart felt lighter. Her mother didn’t know about Roderick.
But someone knew, didn’t they? Someone had found her rose.
For a moment, she wondered if it had to do with Roderick at all. He hadn’t been in the dream.
“What’s this?” a male voice piped in, from the side. “The two loveliest women in the kingdom, riding without escort?”
Anne and Muriele both turned to greet the newcomer.
“Hello, Robert,” Muriele said.
“Good morning, dear sister-in-law. How lovely you are! The dawn was slow today, fearing to compare with you.”
“How nice of you to say,” Muriele replied.
Ignoring her cool tone, Robert switched his attentions to Anne. “And you, my dear niece. What a stunning creature you’ve become. I fear this birthday party might become a slaughterground of young knights jousting over you, if we don’t provide restraint.”
Anne almost blushed. Uncle Robert was a handsome man, fit, wide shouldered, slim waisted. He was dark, for a Dare, with black eyes and a small mustache and beard that perfectly fit his sardonic manner.