Page 104 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

“A child will come when the time is right.” Roslain dropped a kiss on her head. “For now, you must think only to make your marriage a happy one. Perhaps you and Prince Aubrecht could take a honey month. Glowan Castle is lovely at this time of year.”

“I cannot leave the capital,” Sabran said. “Not with a High Western on the wing.”

“Let us not speak of High Westerns.” Roslain smoothed her hair. “Not now.”

Margret rose to the occasion. “Since we are seeking a new subject,” she said, a teasing sparkle in her eye, “will you tell us aboutyourwedding night, Ros?”

Katryen tittered, and Roslain smiled a little as Sabran gave her a knowing look.

Linora returned with the fruit as Roslain recounted her marriage to Lord Calidor Stillwater. When the bed was made, they all moved to the Withdrawing Chamber, where Sabran sat beside the washbasin. She was silent while Katryen worked creamgrail into her hair and gave her rosewater to rinse her mouth. At her request, Margret played the virginals.

“Mistress Duryan,” Katryen said, “help rinse Her Majesty’s hair, if you please. I must go to the Lord Chamberlain.”

“Of course.”

Katryen scooped up the wicker basket and left. Ead, in the meantime, joined Roslain at the washbasin.

She poured water from the ewer, washing away the sweet-smelling lather. As she reached for the linen, Sabran caught her wrist.

Ead grew very still. An Ordinary Chamberer did not have leave to touch the queen, and this time Roslain had made no promises to overlook it.

“The rose smelled beautiful, Mistress Duryan.”

Sabran slid her fingers between hers. Thinking she meant to say more, Ead leaned down to hear—but instead, Sabran Berethnet kissed her on the cheek.

Her lips were soft as swansdown. Gooseflesh whispered all over Ead, and she fought the need to let out all her breath.

“Thank you,” Sabran said. “It was generous.”

Ead glanced at Roslain, who looked stricken.

“It was my pleasure, madam,” she said.

Outside, the grounds were wreathed in mist. Rain slithered down the clouded windows of the Withdrawing Chamber. The queen reclined into her seat as if it were her throne.

“Ros,” she said, “when Kate returns, bid her go back to the Lord Chamberlain. She will tell him that Mistress Ead Duryan has been raised to the position of Lady of the Bedchamber.”

II

Declare I Dare Not

Consider the way she had to go,

Think of the hungry snare,

The net she herself had woven,

Aware or unaware …

—Marion Angus

23

South

The hook of the ice staff bit into snow, and Lord Arteloth Beck bowed his head against the wind that bellowed through the Spindles. Beneath his gloves, his fingers were as red as if he had dipped them in madder. Draped over his shoulder was the carcass of a mountain ewe.

The tears had frozen on his cheeks for days, but now the cold had entered him. He could not think of Kit for long when every step was agony. A mercy from the Saint.

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