Page 146 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

She curtsied and left the Privy Chamber. Sabran looked after her, expressionless.

“She pushes too hard,” she said softly, once the doors were shut. “I never saw, when I was younger. I revered her too much to see how much she hates to be denied.”

“It is only that Her Grace believes she knows best,” Katryen said. “And she has a will to rival yours.”

“My will was not always what it is now. Once I was as molten glass, yet to be spun into shape. I sense I have taken a shape she mislikes.”

“Don’t be silly.” Katryen sat on the arm of her throne. “Let Her Grace drink her sour wine for a few days. She will come around, just as she did after you chose Prince Aubrecht.” She gave Sabran the gentlest pat on the belly. “You must think only of this now.”

Two days later, a signal beacon was fired in Perchling, warning of danger to the coast. Sabran received Lord Lemand Fynch, her cousin, while she was still in her bedgown.

“Majesty, I regret to inform you that theAnbaurawas sighted in the Swan Strait this morning,” he said. “Though it did not attack, the House of Vetalda is clearly taking the measure of our coastal defenses. As Lord Admiral, I have commanded your navy to keep any further scouts at bay—but I beg you, coz, to ask King Raunus for support. His ships would be of great use in guarding our eastern coast.”

“Ambassador Sterbein is already on his way to Elding. I have also requested hellburners from High Princess Ermuna in exchange for Inysh support on her border with Yscalin,” Sabran said. “Should the Flesh King flick his tongue at our coast again, I bid you remind him why the Inysh navy is known as the greatest in the world.”

“Yes, Majesty.”

“You will also send mercenaries to Quarl Bay. I expect them to be hand-chosen by you, and indisputably loyal to Inys.” Her eyes were hard as emeralds. “I want his fleet torched.”

Her cousin considered this. “A foray into Draconic territory could incite an armed response.”

“The Knight of Courage bids us go forth into even the greatest danger in the interest of defending Virtudom, Your Grace. I see no reason why I should wait for bloodshed before I defend this isle,” Sabran said. “Send Sigoso a message. If he wants to dance with fire, it is he who will burn.”

Fynch bowed. “Majesty, I will see it done.”

He marched back out. Two of the Knights of the Body closed the doors behind him.

“If Yscalin courts war, I will oblige, but we must be ready,” Sabran murmured. “If Raunus is not in a generous mood, it may be my fate to make this marriage to the Chieftain of Askrdal. For Inys.”

Marriage to a man old enough to be her grandsire. Even Katryen, who was practiced in courtesy, creased her nose in distaste. Sabran crossed her arms over her midriff.

“Come.” Ead laid a hand on her back. “Let us take the air while the snow is untouched.”

“Oh,yes.” Katryen rose to the occasion with relish. “We could pick some damsons and blackberries. And do you know, Sabran, Meg said she saw a dear little hedgepig a few days ago. Perhaps we can help the servants to chase the poor things from under the balefires.”

Sabran nodded, but her face was a mask. And Ead knew that, in her mind, she was trapped under a balefire of her own, waiting for an unseen hand to set light to the kindling.

Not long after the announcement, Ead found herself once more in the Privy Chamber, embroidering roses on a baby cap. Since the scent of roses had kept her nightmares at bay, Sabran wanted them on everything her daughter would wear in the first days of her life.

The queen lay on a couch in her padded bedgown. She had shed weight in the days following the ambush in Ascalon, making her belly impossible to miss.

“I feel nothing,” she said. “Why does she not move?”

“That is natural, Majesty.” Roslain was bordering one end of a swaddle blanket. Katryen worked on the other. “You may not feel her quicken for some time.”

Sabran kept exploring the little round in her belly with her fingers.

“I believe,” she said, “that I have a name for my daughter.”

The Chief Gentlewoman looked up so quickly, she must have given herself a cricked neck. The blanket was forgotten as she and Katryen rushed to sit on either side of Sabran. Only Ead remained where she was.

“This is wonderful news, Sab.” Smiling, Katryen laid a hand over hers. “What have you chosen?”

There were six historical names for Berethnet monarchs, Sabran and Jillian being the most popular.

“Sylvan. After Sylvan-by-the-River,” the queen said, “where her lord father died.”

That name was not one of them.

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