Page 108 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

Ead handed him her scissors. “Of course.”

“Thank you.”

They knelt beside the lavender, and Lievelyn removed his gloves, a boyish smile on his lips. Perhaps he found it exasperating to be able to do so little with his own hands. His Grooms of the Inner Chamber must take care of everything, from serving his food to washing his hair.

“Your Royal Highness,” Ead said, “pardon my ignorance, but who rules Mentendon in your absence?”

“Princess Ermuna is acting as steward while I am in Inys. Of course, I hope that Queen Sabran and I will eventually come to an arrangement whereby I am able to spend more of my time at home. Then I can be both consort and ruler.” He ran a stem between his fingers. “My sister is a force of nature, but I fear for her. Mentendon is a fragile realm, and ours is a young royal house.”

Ead watched his face while he spoke. His gaze was on his love-knot ring.

“This is also a fragile realm, Highness,” she said.

“As I am learning.”

He cut the lavender and passed it to her. Ead rose and dusted off her skirts, but Lievelyn seemed in no hurry to leave.

“I understand you were born in the Ersyr,” he said.

“Yes, Highness. I am a distant relation of Chassar uq-Ispad, ambassador to King Jantar and Queen Saiyma, and grew up as his ward.”

It was the lie she had told for eight years, and it came easily.

“Ah,” Lievelyn said. “Rumelabar, then.”

“Yes.”

Lievelyn pulled his gloves back on. He looked over his shoulder, to where his Royal Guard waited by the entrance to the garden.

“Mistress Duryan,” he said, softer, “I am glad I happened upon you this morning, for I would have your counsel on a private matter, if you would be good enough to give it.”

“In what capacity, Highness?”

“As a Lady of the Bedchamber.” He cleared his throat. “I should like to take Her Majesty into the streets, to give alms to the people of Ascalon, with the view to going on a longer progress in the summer. I understand she has never made a formal visit to any of her provinces. Before I raise it with her . . . I wondered if you might know why.”

A prince seeking her counsel. How things had changed.

“Her Majesty has not walked among her people since she was crowned,” Ead said. “Because of . . . Queen Rosarian.”

Lievelyn frowned at this. “I know the Queen Mother was cruelly murdered,” he said, “but that was in her own palace, not on the streets.”

Ead considered his earnest face. There was something about him that compelled her to honesty.

“There are wrong-headed people in Ascalon, drunk on the same evil that has tainted Yscalin, who long for the Nameless One to return,” she told him. “They would bring down the House of Berethnet to ensure it. Some of these people have been able to enter Ascalon Palace. Cutthroats.”

Lievelyn was quiet for a short while. “I did not know of this.” He sounded troubled, and Ead wondered what Sabran did talk to him about. “How close did they get to her?”

“Close. The last came in the summer, but I have no doubt that their master continues to plot against Her Majesty.”

His jaw firmed.

“I see,” he murmured. “Of course, I have no wish to put Her Majesty in danger. And yet—to the people of Virtudom, she is a beacon of hope. Now a High Western has returned, theymustbe reminded of her love for them, her devotion to them. Especially if she is forced to, say, raise taxes for the creation of new ships and weapons.”

He was serious. “Highness,” Ead said, “I beg you, wait until you have a daughter before you put this idea to Her Majesty. A princess will give the commons all the comfort and reassurance they need.”

“Alas that children cannot be called into being merely by our wishing hard enough for them. It may be a long time yet before an heir arrives, Mistress Duryan.” Lievelyn breathed out through his nose. “As her companion, I should know her best, but my bride is the blood of the Saint. What mortal can ever know her?”

“You will,” Ead said. “I have never seen her look at anyone the way she does at you.”

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