Page 32 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

“Mistress Duryan,” she said.

“Your Majesty.” Ead gave her obeisance. “Your Graces.”

“Do sit.”

As she took a seat, Ead caught the eye of Sir Tharian Lintley, Captain of the Knights of the Body, who offered a reassuring smile from his post by the doors. Like most members of the Royal Guard, Lintley was tall, robust, and had no shortage of admirers at court. He had been in love with Margret since she had arrived, and Ead knew she returned his affection, but the difference in station had kept them apart.

“Mistress Duryan,” Lord Seyton Combe said, eyebrows raised. The Duke of Courtesy was seated to the left of the queen. “Are you unwell?”

“Your pardon, my lord?”

“There are shadows under your eyes.”

“I am very well, Your Grace. Only a little tired after the excitement of the Mentish visit.”

Combe took the measure of her over the rim of his cup. Close to sixty, with eyes like storms, a sallow complexion, and a near-lipless mouth, the Principal Secretary was a formidable presence. It was said that if a plot was hatched against Queen Sabran in the morning, he would have the accomplices on the rack by noon. A pity the master of cutthroats still eluded him.

“Indeed. An unforeseen visit, but a pleasant one,” Combe said, and a mild smile returned to his lips. All his expressions were mild. Like wine tempered with water. “We have already questioned many members of the royal household, but we thought it prudent to leave Her Majesty’s ladies until last, busy as you were during the Mentish visit.”

Ead held his gaze. Combe might speak the language of secrets, but he did not know hers.

Lady Igrain Crest, the Duchess of Justice, sat on the other side of the queen. She had been the chief influence on Sabran during her minority after the death of Queen Rosarian, and had apparently had a great hand in molding her into a paragon of virtue.

“Now that Mistress Duryan has arrived,” she said, with a smile at Ead, “perhaps we can begin.”

Crest had the same fine bone structure and azure eyes as her granddaughter, Roslain—though her hair, frizzled at the temples, had long since turned silver. Small lines were notched around her lips, which were nearly as pale as the rest of her face.

“Indeed,” Lady Nelda Stillwater said. The Duchess of Courage was a full-figured woman, with skin of a deep brown and a head of dark curls. A carcanet of rubies glistered around her neck. “Mistress Duryan, a man was found dead at the threshold of the Great Bedchamber the night before last. He was holding an Yscali-made dagger.”

A parrying dagger, specifically. In duels, they were used in place of a shield, to protect and defend the wielder, but they could also kill. Each cutthroat had carried one.

“It seems he meant to kill Her Majesty,” Stillwater said, “but was himself killed.”

“Terrible,” the Duke of Generosity muttered. Lord Ritshard Eller, at least ninety, wore thick furs even in summer. From what Ead had observed, he was also a sanctimonious fool.

She schooled her features. “Another cutthroat?”

“Yes,” Stillwater said, her brow creasing. “As you will no doubt have heard, this has happened more than once in the past year. Of the nine would-be killers that have gained entry to Ascalon Palace, five were slain before they could be apprehended.”

“It is all very strange,” Combe said, musingly, “but it seems sensible to conclude that someone in the Upper Household killed the knave.”

“A noble deed,” Ead said.

Crest snorted. “Hardly, my dear,” she said. “Thisprotector, whoever it is, is a killer as well, and they must be unmasked.” Her voice was thin with frustration. “Like the cutthroat, this person entered the royal apartments unseen, somehow eluding the Knights of the Body. They then committed a murder and left the corpse for Her Majesty to find. Did they intend to frighten our queen to death?”

“I imagine they intended to stop our queen beingstabbedto death, Your Grace.”

Sabran lifted an eyebrow.

“The Knight of Justice frowns upon all bloodshed, Mistress Duryan,” Crest said. “If whoever has been killing cutthroats had only come to us, we might have forgiven them, but their refusal to reveal themselves speaks of sinister intent. Wewillknow who they are.”

“We are relying on witnesses to help us, mistress. This incident happened the night before last, about midnight,” Combe said. “Tell me, did you see or hear anything suspicious?”

“Nothing comes to mind, Your Grace.”

Sabran had not stopped looking at her. The scrutiny made Ead a little warm under her ruff.

“Mistress Duryan,” Combe said, “you have been a loyal servant at court. I sincerely doubt that Ambassador uq-Ispad would have presented Her Majesty with a lady who was not of faultless character. Nonetheless, I must warn you that silence now is an act of treason. Do you knowanythingabout this cutthroat? Have you heard anyone expressing dislike for Her Majesty, or sympathy toward the Draconic Kingdom of Yscalin?”

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