Page 162 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

“Strip me from her side, and shewillknow. And she will find some means to be rid of you.”

“I hope you are mistaken, Mistress Duryan, for her sake. I fear you misjudge how fragile her rule has become now there is no hope of an heir.” Combe held her gaze. “She needs me more than ever. I am faithful to her for her qualities as a ruler, and for the legacy of her house, but some of my fellow Dukes Spiritual will not brook her on that throne. Not now she has failed in her chief duty as a Berethnet queen.”

Ead kept her expression carefully blank, but a wardrum beat within her breast. “Who?”

“Oh, I have my suspicions as to who will act first. I mean to be her shield in the days to come,” Combe said. “You, unhappily, do not factor into my plans. You threaten them.”

Perhaps they will not even wait for me to die before the infighting begins.

“Falden,” Combe said, louder, “would you come in?” The door opened, and one of his retainers entered. “If you would be so kind as to see Mistress Duryan to the coach.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

The man took Ead by the shoulder. As he steered her toward the door, Combe said, “Wait, Master Falden. I have changed my mind.” His face was expressionless. “Kill her.”

Ead stiffened. At once, the retainer grabbed her by the hair and pulled, baring her throat to his blade.

Heat flared in her hands. She twisted the arm that held her, and in a welter of limbs, the retainer was on the floor and crying in agony, his shoulder thrust out of the joint.

“There,” Combe said softly.

The retainer panted, clutching his arm. Ead looked at her hands. Reacting to a threat, the very last of her siden, her deepest reserve, had forced itself to the surface.

“Lady Truyde spread rumors of your sorcery some time ago.” Combe took in the glow in her fingertips. “I ignored them, of course. The jealous spite of a young courtier, no more. Then I heard of your . . .curiousskill with blades during the ambush.”

“I taught myself to protect Queen Sabran,” Ead said, outwardly calm, but her blood hammered.

“So I see.” Combe sighed through his nose. “You are the watcher in the night.”

She had revealed her true nature. There could be no return from this.

“I do not believe in sorcery, Mistress Duryan. Perhaps it is alchemy in your hands. What I do believe is that you never came here out of a desire to serve Queen Sabran, as you claimed. More likely Ambassador uq-Ispad placed you here as a spy. Even greater reason for me to send you far away from court.”

Ead took a step toward him. The Night Hawk did not move or flinch.

“I have wondered,” Ead said, her voice low, “if you are the Cupbearer. If you arranged those cutthroats to come . . . to frighten her into marrying Lievelyn. If that is why you want to be rid of me. Her protector. After all, what is a cupbearer but a trusted servant to the crown, who at any moment could poison the wine?”

Combe offered a heavy smile.

“How easy it would be for you to lay the blame for all ills at my doorstep,” he murmured. “The Cupbearerisnear at hand, Mistress Duryan. I have no doubt of that. But I am only the Night Hawk.” He sat back. “A coach is waiting at the palace gates.”

“And where will it take me?”

“Somewhere I can keep a sharp eye on you. Until I have seen where the pieces fall,” he said. “You know the greatest secret in Virtudom. One wag of your tongue could bring Inys to its knees.”

“So you will silence me with incarceration.” Ead paused. “Or do you mean to be rid of me on a more permanent basis?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “You wound me. Murder is not courteous.”

He would keep her somewhere where neither Sabran nor the Priory would be able to find her. She could not get into that coach, or she would never see daylight again.

This time, many pairs of hands were on her. The light waned from her fingers as they escorted her out.

She had no intention of letting Combe lock her away. Or ending her with a knife to the back. As they left the Alabastrine Tower, she slipped a hand beneath her cloak and unlaced her sleeves. The retainers marched her toward the gates of the palace.

Quick as an arrow, she pulled her arms free of her gown. Before the retainers could snare her, she had vaulted over the nearest wall, into the Privy Garden. Shouts of surprise went up.

Her heart battered her ribs. A window was open above her. The Queen Tower was smooth-walled, impossible to climb, but woodvines snaked up it, thick enough to take her weight. Ead hooked her foot on to a knotted vine.

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