“Then . . . why didn’t you address it? While we were back at the Long Lost Wood?”
I release a sigh. “Because Ymer is very old fashioned, and will not listen to anyone save the ruler of the land. Queen Vivienne must bid him leave, or else he will not leave.”
“That sounds annoying.”
“Very.”
By the scent shift in the air, I know we have arrived at the palace gates. I lean forward, pull aside the curtains, and bark at the guards, “Lady Katherine and I come bearing urgent news of the Long Lost Wood’s border.”
The gates open. We proceed unhindered.
The first person to greet us, besides guards, appears to be some sort of steward. He has a very wide mouth, with very large lips, and he runs down the grand staircase the moment I help Kat out of the carriage, blathering, “You do not have an appointment! The queen will not see you.”
“The queenwillsee us, at once,” I reply firmly, taking Kat’s hand as she feigns distraction with the colorful palace roses flanking the steps, and tuck it into my elbow. She looks anywhere but me, her face flushing bright pink from the contact. I hide my satisfied smirk.
She is the one, however, who reaches out and places a gentle hand on the steward’s forearm. “Queen Vivienne told me I may visit her at any time, and we come on no small matter. Please let us through.”
Then she smiles, and his open mouth slowly closes. “This way.”
When we are inside, I lean down and whisper, “That was impressive. Perhaps I ought to have married you sooner.”
She flushes a little, and opens her mouth to reply, her lips angled in that way when she’s about to give a sassy retort. She doesn’t get a chance, however, because the queen’s voice echoes into the chamber we stand in.
“Who are thesepersonswho demand to see me so vehemently that my stalwart Nelson is shaking in his boots?”
“It’s Lord Rahk and Lady Katherine, Your Majesty.”
Her tone sharpens at once. “Lord Rahk and Lady Katherine, is it? Send them in.”
Queen Vivienne sits in a very green chamber. The ornate, patterned rug on the wood floor is green. Intricate scrollwork is carved into the dark wood trim of the room. The curtains, the straight-backed upholstered furniture, and even the jewelry around the queen’s throat are all the exact same shade of green. So is the screen behind the queen’s back, which conceals all but a few shadows beneath it—shadows from warrior boots. How many men does she have back there?
Enough in number and skill for her to feel comfortable inviting me into this enclosed space after I dispatched her assassins.
That tells me everything I need to know about how much this queen trusts me.
Her son is with her. He wears a green doublet, embroidered in silver, and at our entrance, the queen kisses the boy’s forehead and bids him to step out for a minute. Then she turns to us, and all the warmth she saved for her son is swept away into her queenly mask.
“Lord Rahk,” she says in a guarded tone. Her attention shifts to Kat next to me as she curtsies. Her voice shifts very slightly to interest. “You’ve brought your new bride.”
“I’m afraid we come on urgent matters,” I say, bowing.
Queen Vivienne arches one groomed eyebrow. “Surely this is not another request for me to come speak to the troll. I sent that letter. Have you not taken it to him?”
“I did take it. He could not read it, so he ate it instead. You will have to come in person.”
She clenches her jaw. Her gaze goes to the door her son disappeared through.
“You would be protected,” I add. “By me, or your own guards, as your comfort dictated.”
“You claim it would be safe for me to approach this troll?”
I hesitate slightly. Kat’s silent gaze is warm on the side of my face. “It would not besafe,but as I said, you would be protected.”
I ignore the tea a manservant pours. Kat takes two sugars and eyes the dish long enough to tell me she’s trying to decide between being polite or taking a third sugar. I lean forward and use the spoon to place the third sugar into her cup without taking my attention off Queen Vivienne, who dismisses the manservant.
It almost seems like the queen trusts me . . .lessafter marrying Kat. The glances she gives my wife are sharp, as though she means to communicate or signal something.
She is trying to ask Kat if she is safe.