SKEAL EILE SAT ON A COUCH IN A TINY RECEIVING room in the Amarantyne Palace, awaiting the appearance of Isoeld Severine, although his patience was growing decidedly thin.
He had arrived an hour earlier—coming to a rear door of the building, as instructed—only to find a solitary Home Guard waiting to receive him. Without so much as a word of greeting, the Home Guard had taken him through various corridors to this room, deposited him inside, and left him to whatever solitary pursuits he could manage to invent.
The Seraphic had not expected that the recently widowed Queen of the Elves would greet him with crowds of admirers chanting his name or baskets of flowers strewn on the front walkway as he entered, but he had expected better treatment than this. He had assumed the Queen would be better prepared for the tumult that followed the King’s assassination and the incarceration of his daughter for the murder, but it appeared he was mistaken. Isoeld Severine had adopted a fortress mentality right from the start, closing off contact with all but a few trusted advisers and her heavily armed personal guard. Aside from Teonette—though Eile assumed he might be mistaken about this, too —no one had been given access to her.
She had addressed the High Council right after the King’s demise, and he was told that she had handled herself well in that situation. She had spoken eloquently of her husband’s service and her intention to see to it, no matter if she was proclaimed ruler of the Elves or not, that his legacy endured and his good work continued. Impressed by her dedication to her husband’s efforts and memory, they had named her successor on the spot. It was a decision they were all probably regretting by now.
In any case, she had made a bargain with him, and he had yet to see any evidence she intended to keep it. It was his man who had killed the King, done so on his orders and at her request, and the agreement had been plain enough. Once the King was dispatched, his daughter charged with the crime, and Isoeld ascended the throne, he was to be given ready access both to her and the Elven people so he could begin the work of gathering new disciples for the Order of the Hawk. He knew they were there; he had even seen them at gatherings he had held on the outskirts of this part of the kingdom’s borders. But they were a minority afraid of condemnation and even retribution for their beliefs, and so they kept a low profile. It was his intention to remove the barriers that forced them to keep silent by making it clear to all that even the Elven throne was accepting of his work.
Yet none of that had happened. The Queen had not so much as mentioned the Children of the Hawk the few times she had addressed either the Council or the Elven people, and for all intents and purposes nothing had changed for the better where he was concerned.
So here he was now, come to find out why this was so, come to advise her that if she didn’t act quickly to make things right, she might find out to her regret the consequences of ignoring her promise. He did not intend to back away simply because she had now gotten what she wanted and might feel less beholden to him.
He was considering the nature of the consequences he would impose when the door to the receiving room opened and she stepped through. She gave him only a cursory glance before closing the door behind her and locking it.
“Good day, Seraphic,” she greeted, her voice cool.
He nodded, but said nothing in return. She gave him a look and then walked over to the windows that opened into the gardens behind the building and carefully drew together the floor-length curtains, leaving the room in semi-darkness.
“Better if no one sees us just now,” she said, turning back to face him.
Even in the dimness of the room’s shadowy illumination, she was beautiful to look at.
He could understand why Oparion Amarantyne had been so taken with her. He might have been similarly tempted—had been more than once—except he knew what sort of creature lived within that lovely skin.
“I don’t mind the secrecy, but I can’t say I much care for the treatment otherwise.” He walked forward a few steps, putting him close enough to watch her eyes. “You kept me waiting a very long time.”
“For which I apologize,” she said. “But the High Council has been meeting all day, trying to come to an agreement about how to treat the threat of a Troll invasion.
Unfortunately, they lack ideas and backbones in equal measure. It is much easier to debate the matter to death.”
She moved into the light more directly, and he saw the deep furrows scratched into the smooth skin of her face.