Page 43 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

The sun was hot as a stove, but the queen showed no sign of wanting to go inside. They continued their stroll down a path flanked by cherry trees.

“Do you smell smoke, mistress?” Sabran asked. “That is the smell of a fire in the city. This morning, two doomsingers were burned in Marian Square. Do you think that this is well?”

There were two kinds of heretic in Inys. A scattered few still followed the primordial religion of Inys, a form of nature worship that had been practiced before the foundation of the House of Berethnet, in the days when knighthood was still young and the country had been haunted by the Lady of the Woods. They could recant or be imprisoned.

Then there were those who prophesied the return of the Nameless One. For the last two years, these doomsingers had trickled to Inys from Yscalin and preached in the cities for as long as they could. They were burned by decree of the Duchess of Justice.

“It is a cruel death,” Ead said.

“They would see Inys consumed by flame. They would have us open our arms to the Nameless One, to take him as our god. Lady Igrain says that we must do to our enemies what they would do to us.”

“Did the Saint also say this, madam?” Ead asked calmly. “I am not as well versed in the Six Virtues as yourself.”

“The Knight of Courage commands us to defend the faith.”

“Yet you accepted a gift from Prince Aubrecht of Mentendon, who trades with the East. He even gave you an Eastern pearl,” Ead said. “One might say that he is funding heresy.”

It was out before she could stop it. Sabran gave her a glacial look.

“I am not a sanctarian, responsible for teaching you the complexities of the Six Virtues,” she said. “If you wish to dispute those complexities, Mistress Duryan, I advise you to look elsewhere. In the Dearn Tower, perhaps, with others who question my judgment—which comes, as I am sure I need not remind you, from the Saint himself.” She turned away. “Good morrow.”

She strode away, shadowed by her Knights of the Body, leaving Ead alone beneath the trees.

When the queen was out of sight, Ead crossed the lawn and sat on the edge of a fountain, cursing herself. The heat was making her irrational.

She splashed her face with the water and then drank it from cupped palms, watched by a statue of Carnelian the First, the Flower of Ascalon, fourth queen of the House of Berethnet. Soon the dynasty would have ruled Inys for one thousand and six years.

Ead closed her eyes and let the runnels of water trickle down her neck. Eight years she had spent at the court of Sabran the Ninth. In all that time, she had never said anything to nettle her. Now she was like a viper, unable to keep her tongue in her mouth. Something made her want torilethe Queen of Inys.

She had to cut that something out, or this court would eat her whole.

Her duties that day went by in a haze. The warmth made their errands all the harder. Even Linora was subdued, her golden hair dampened by sweat, and Roslain Crest spent the afternoon fanning herself with rising fury.

After supper, Ead joined the other women in the Sanctuary of Virtues for orisons. The Queen Mother had ordered that blue stained-glass windows be set into the hall to make it look as if it had been built underwater.

There was one statue in the sanctuary, on the right side of the altar. Galian Berethnet, his hands folded on the hilt of Ascalon.

On the left, there was only a plinth in memory of the woman the Inysh knew as Queen Cleolind, the Damsel.

The Inysh had no record of what Cleolind had looked like. All images of her, if they had ever existed, had been destroyed after her death, and no Inysh sculptor had ever attempted to create a likeness since. Many believed it was because King Galian had been unable to bear seeing the woman he had lost to the childbed.

Even the Priory had only a few accounts of the Mother. So much had been destroyed or lost.

As the others prayed, so too did Ead.

Mother, I beg you, guide me in the land of the Deceiver. Mother, I implore you, let me comport myself with dignity in the presence of this woman who calls herself your descendant, who I have sworn to guard. Mother, I pray you, give me courage worthy of my cloak.

Sabran rose and touched the statue of her forebear. As she and her ladies filed from the sanctuary, Ead caught sight of Truyde. She was looking straight ahead, but her hands were clasped a little too tightly.

When night fell and she had seen to her duties in the Queen Tower, Ead descended the Privy Stair to the postern, where barges brought goods to the palace from the city, and waited in an alcove that held the well.

Truyde utt Zeedeur joined her, cloaked and hooded.

“I am forbidden to be out of the Coffer Chamber after dark without a chaperon.” She tucked a wayward lock of red into her hood. “If Lady Oliva discovers I am gone—”

“You met your lover many times, my lady. Presumably,” Ead said, “without a chaperon.”

Dark eyes watched from beneath the hood. “What is it you want?”

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