“God, no!” Andalie chuckled. “I would’ve taken the stuff myself, but we never had the money. It was all I could do to feed all of my children two meals a day. I do not condemn you, Majesty. I simply mean that even I have heard the tone of the city. The people want an heir. I don’t know what happens if you take a contraceptive and it is discovered.”
“Public opinion is the least of my concerns right now. I’m nineteen. This kingdom doesn’t own every part of me.”
“They will disagree with you on that. But regardless, I can get the syrup, if that’s what you want.”
“It is,” Kelsea replied firmly. “When do you go to market?”
“Thursday.”
“I’ll give you the gold. I appreciate this.”
“Be careful, Lady,” Andalie cautioned. “I know all about the wildness of youth, believe me. But regret has a terrible ability to follow you, long after youth has vanished.”
“Yes.” Kelsea had been looking down at her feet, but now she abruptly looked up at Andalie, nearly begging. “I only want to be able to have a life, that’s all. A life, just like any other girl my age would have. Is that so terrible?”
“Not terrible at all, Majesty,” Andalie replied. “But though you may wish for an ordinary life, you will not have it. You are the Queen of the Tearling. There are some things you cannot choose.”
A FEW DAYS later, Kelsea finally got up the courage to run an errand she’d been putting off for nearly a month. Gathering up Mace, Pen, and Coryn, she left the Queen’s Wing, traveled up three flights of stairs, turned left, then right, then left again, and entered a large, windowless room on the twelfth floor of the Keep.
Elston stood up from an armchair just inside the doorway. For once, Kibb was not with him. Although Kibb appeared to have completely recovered in a physical sense, Mace was still wary, still testing Kibb to see if anything had changed.
“Enjoying yourself, Elston?”
“More than you can imagine, Lady.”
The room was lit by many torches, and at its center was a steel cage that stood almost to the ceiling. The bars were thin, but they looked to be extremely strong. In the center of the cage, Arlen Thorne sat in a simple wooden chair, his head tipped back, his gaze focused on the ceiling. The chair was the only furniture in the cage.
“He doesn’t even have a cot?” Kelsea asked Mace in an undertone.
“He can sleep just fine on the floor.”
“What about a blanket?”
Mace’s brow furrowed. “What is this sudden sympathy for Thorne, Lady?”
“Not sympathy, concern. Even worse criminals would deserve a blanket.”
“Have you come to gloat, Majesty?” Thorne called from the center of the room. “Or will you merely mumble to each other all day over there?”
“Ah, Arlen. How the mighty have fallen.” Kelsea moved to stand ten feet from the bars, and Pen followed, placing himself between Kelsea and the cage. For a moment, she was distracted by Pen’s lithe swordfighter’s form, which she now saw in an entirely new light; the sex was getting better, and it was difficult, these days, to keep from picturing him naked. But they had agreed to keep this thing in the dark, and in the dark it would stay. “Coryn, can you find me something to sit on, please?”
“Lady.”
“How goes the invasion, Majesty?” Thorne asked.
“Poorly,” Kelsea admitted. “The Mort are pushing inward from the border. My army won’t hold for long.”
Thorne shrugged. “The inevitable result.”
“I’ll give you this, Arlen: at least you don’t feign remorse.”
“What is there to be remorseful about? I played the hand I was dealt as well as I could. Bad luck is bad luck.” Thorne leaned forward, his bright blue eyes piercing in the dim room. “How did you find out about my special shipment, Lady? I have always wondered. Did someone talk?”
“No.”
“Then how did you know?”
“Magic.”
“Ah, well.” Thorne sat back. “I have seen magic worked, once or twice.”
“Don’t you care about anything, Arlen?”
“Care is a liability, Majesty.”
Coryn reappeared with a chair, and Kelsea sat down in front of the cage. “What of Brenna? Surely you care for her. Or have I been misinformed?”
“Brenna is a useful tool, and she enjoys being used.”
Kelsea’s mouth twisted in distaste, but then she remembered the spitting, raging woman down in the dungeon. Perhaps there was something in what Thorne said.
“How did Brenna come to be what she is?”
“Environment, Majesty. My Brenna and I grew up in the worst hell imaginable.” Thorne tipped his head toward Mace, his mouth twisting with malice. “You know what I’m talking about. I saw you there.”
“You are mistaken,” Mace replied tonelessly.
Thorne smiled. “Oh no, Captain of Guard, I am sure it was you.”
In the next instant the mace lashed against the bars, a deafening clatter of steel on steel in the confined space.
“Keep talking, Thorne,” Mace said in a low voice, “and I will end you.”
“What do I care for that, Captain? You or the rope, it makes no difference to me.”
“And what about when I send that pet of yours to Mortmesne, to Lafitte?” Mace grasped the bars, pressing against the cage, and Kelsea was suddenly glad that she could not see his face. Mace never allowed himself to be rattled so easily; Thorne must have touched a very deep nerve. “Albinos are a curiosity, you know. Such women will always draw customers.”
“You have no reason to harm Brenna.”
“But I will do it, Thorne, if you drive me there. Keep your mouth shut.”
Thorne raised his eyebrows. “You support this, Majesty?”
Kelsea was uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation, but she nodded firmly. “I support whatever Lazarus chooses to do.”
“See, I knew it. Kelsea the virtuous. Kelsea the selfless.” Thorne shook his head, chuckling. “Those poor deluded bastards out there have worked themselves into a frenzy over you, Majesty. They think you’ll save them from the Mort. A clever act, yours, but I always knew you were no better than the rest of us.”
“I never claimed to be virtuous or selfless,” Kelsea snapped back. “And I hardly know how you can claim any sort of high ground.”
“But I make no secret of what I am, Kelsea Raleigh—I suppose it’s Glynn now, isn’t it? These delusions the rest of you suffer … so much work and architecture to convince yourself that you’re better, more pure. We all want what we want, and there’s very little we won’t do to get it. Call yourself whatever you like, Queen Kelsea, but you’re a Raleigh through and through. No altruists in that line.”
“I don’t want to die, Arlen, but I would lay down my life for any of these men, or they for me. That’s a real thing, sacrifice, but you will never understand it.”
“Oh, but I do understand it. I have a piece of information that Your Majesty would find valuable, so valuable that I have thought, many times, that I could likely trade it for my own life. But I will not do that.”
“What information?”
“First, my price: the life and welfare of Brenna.”
Mace began to bark, but Kelsea cut him off. “Define welfare.”
“Brenna is known as my charge. When I’m gone, many people will seek to unleash their wrath on her as well. She needs protection.”
“Don’t try to paint your albino as an innocent, Thorne. She’s a dangerous creature.”
“She has been unfortunate, Majesty. Brenna and I were raised as animals. But for luck, even your Mace might have turned out just like us.”
Mace lunged toward the bars, his big hands grasping for Thorne. Thorne didn’t flinch; even Mace’s long arms couldn’t reach far enough through the bars.
“What?” Thorne asked. “Don’t want to reminisce with me? Not even about the ring?”
“Elston.” Mace turned, snarling. “Keys.”