To her surprise, Mace immediately turned and left, closing the door behind him.
“Sit, please.” Kelsea indicated the chair that sat in front of the vanity table. The woman placed the stool in front of Kelsea and sat down in a single graceful movement.
“What’s your name?”
“Andalie.”
Kelsea blinked. “Of Mort origin?”
“My mother was Mort, my father Tear.”
Kelsea wondered if Mace had elicited that information. Of course he had. “And which are you?”
Andalie stared at her until Kelsea wished that she could take the question back. The woman’s eyes were a cold, piercing grey. “I’m Tear, Majesty. My children are Tear, through their worthless father, and I can’t discard the children along with the man, can I?”
“No . . . no, I suppose not.”
“If you question my motives, I came to serve Your Majesty mostly for my children’s sake. Yours was a powerful offer for a woman with as many children as I have, and the opportunity to remove them from their father’s reach was a godsend.”
“Mostly for your children’s sake?”
“Mostly, yes.”
Kelsea was unnerved. The Tearling took in Mort emigrants out of necessity for the skills the Tear lacked, particularly ironwork, medicine, and masonry. The Mort commanded a high price for their services, and there were a fair number of Mort salted around Tear villages, particularly in the more tolerant south. But even Carlin, who prided herself on her open mind, didn’t really trust the Mort. According to Carlin, even the lowest Mort carried the strain of arrogance, a conqueror’s mentality that had been drilled into them over time.
But Andalie’s background was only part of the problem. The woman was too educated for her station in life: married to a laborer, with too many children. She carried herself with an air of inscrutability, and Kelsea would wager that this had driven Andalie’s husband as red to a bull. She was entirely detached. Only when she spoke of her children did she display warmth. Kelsea had to trust Mace’s judgment; without him, she would already be dead. But what had made him choose this woman?
“Lazarus elects you to be my dame of chamber. Is this agreeable to you?”
“If special provision can be made when my youngest is ill or difficult with others.”
“Of course.”
Andalie gestured toward the dreadful vanity table. “My qualifications, Lady—”
Kelsea waved her off. “Anything you claim, I’m sure you can do. May I call you Andalie?”
“What else would you call me, Lady?”
“I’m told that many women at court like to have titles and such. Lady of the Chamber, that sort of thing.”
“I’m no court woman. My own name will do.”
“Of course.” Kelsea smiled regretfully. “If only I could shed my own court titles so easily.”
“Simple people need their symbols, Lady.”
Kelsea stared at her. Carlin had said the same thing many times, and the echo was unwelcome now, when Kelsea thought she had escaped the schoolroom forever. “May I ask you an unpleasant question?”
“By all means.”
“The night before your daughter was to go to Mortmesne, what did you do?”
Andalie pursed her lips, and again Kelsea felt a fierceness that was entirely lacking on other topics. “I’m not a religious woman, Lady. I’m sorry if it pains you, but I believe in no god, and even less do I believe in any church. But two nights ago, I came as close to prayer as I’ve ever come. I had the worst of all visions: my child lying dead, and I powerless to prevent it.” Andalie took a deep breath before continuing. “She would have died before long, you know. The girls die much more rapidly than the boys. Used for menial labor until she was old enough to be sold for pleasure. That is, if she was fortunate enough not to be bought by a child rapist upon arrival.” Andalie bared her teeth in a grim, pained smile. “Mortmesne condones many things.”
Kelsea tried to reply, but failed, unable to speak or even move in the face of Andalie’s sudden anger.
“Borwen, my husband, said that we would have to let her go. He was quite . . . forceful about it. I planned to run, but I underestimated him. He knows me, you see. He took Glee while I slept and gave her to his friends for safekeeping. I woke to find her gone, and no matter where I looked I could only see her body . . . red, all red.”
Kelsea jumped in her seat, then flexed her leg, as though it had cramped. Andalie didn’t seem to notice. Her hands had hooked into claws now, and Kelsea saw that three of her fingernails were ripped down to the quick.
“After despairing for some hours, Lady, I had no choice but to beg for help from every god I could think of. I don’t know that you could truly call it praying, since I believed in none of those gods at that moment and believe in none of them now. But I begged help from every source I know, even a few I shouldn’t mention in the light of day.
“When I came to the Keep Lawn, my Glee was already in the cage and lost to me. My next thought was to send my other children away and go after the shipment, but only after I’d killed my husband. I was considering all the ways I might watch him die, Lady, when I heard your voice.”
Andalie stood without warning. “Your Majesty needs a bath, I believe, and clothing and food?”
Kelsea nodded mutely.
“I’ll see to it.”
When the door closed, Kelsea drew a shaking breath, rubbing gooseflesh from her arms. It had been like being in the room with a vengeful ghost, and Kelsea still felt Andalie’s eyes on her, long after the woman herself had gone.
Did she tell you she was part Mort?”
“She did.”
“And it bothered you not at all?”
“It might have been cause for concern in someone else.”
“What does that mean?”
Mace fiddled with the short knife strapped to his forearm. “I have only a few gifts, Lady, but they’re a strange, powerful few. Had there been danger to Your Majesty in the deepest part of any of these people, I’d have ferreted it out and they wouldn’t be here.”
“She’s not a danger to me, I agree, not now. But she could be, Lazarus. To anyone who threatened her children, she could be.”
“Ah, but Lady, you saved her youngest child. I think you’ll find that anyone who threatens you faces grave danger from her.”
“She’s cold, Lazarus. She’ll serve me only so long as it serves her children.”
Mace considered for a moment, and then shrugged. “I’m sorry, Lady. I think you’re simply wrong. And even if you’re right, you’re currently serving her children infinitely better than she could with that jackal of a husband, or even on her own. Why be gloomy?”
“If Andalie should become a danger to me, would you know it?”
Mace nodded, a gesture with so many years of certainty behind it that Kelsea let the matter drop. “Is my crowning arranged?”
“The Regent knows you’re coming during his audience. I didn’t specify a time; may as well not make things too easy for him.”
“Will he try to kill me?”
“Likely, Lady. The Regent doesn’t have a subtle bone in his body, and he’ll do anything to keep the crown off your head.”
Kelsea inspected her neck in the mirror. Mace had restitched the wound, but his work wasn’t as neat as that of the Fetch. The gash would leave a noticeable scar.
Andalie had found a plain black velvet dress that hung straight to the floor. Kelsea guessed that sleeveless dresses were the fashion; many of the women she’d seen in the city had displayed their bare arms. But Kelsea was self-conscious about her arms, something Andalie seemed to understand without being told. The dress’s loose sleeves concealed Kelsea’s arms, while the neckline was just low enough to allow the sapphire to hang against her bare skin. Andalie had done an excellent job with Kelsea’s thick, heavy hair as well, wrestling it into a braid and then pinning it high on her head. The woman was a monument to competence, but still, black couldn’t conceal all flaws. Kelsea looked at herself in the mirror for a moment, trying to project more confidence than she felt. Some ancestor of hers, her mother’s grandmother or great-grandmother, had been known as the Beautiful Queen, the first in a line of several Raleigh women renowned for fairness. The Fetch’s face surfaced in her mind, and Kelsea smiled sadly at her reflection, then turned away and shrugged.
I’ll be more than that.
“I need to see a copy of the Mort Treaty as soon as possible.”
“We have one here somewhere.”
Kelsea thought she heard disapproval in his tone. “Did I do the wrong thing yesterday?”
“Right versus wrong is a moot point, Lady. It’s done, and now we’ll all face the consequences. The shipment is due in seven days. You’ll need to make some fast decisions.”
“I want to read the treaty first. There must be some loophole.”
Mace shook his head. “If so, Lady, others would have found it.”
“Didn’t you think I would need to know, Lazarus? Why keep it from me?”
“Please, Lady. How could any of us tell you something like that, when your own foster parents had kept it secret from you all your life? You might not even have believed me. It seemed better to let you see for yourself.”
“I need to understand this system, this lottery. Who was that man in charge on the lawn yesterday?”
“Arlen Thorne,” Mace said, his face furrowing. “The Overseer of the Census.”
“A census only counts the population.”
“Not in this kingdom, Lady. The Census is a powerful arm of your government. It controls all aspects of the shipment, from lottery to transport.”
“How did this Arlen Thorne merit his position?”
“By being extremely clever, Lady. Once he nearly outsmarted me.”
“Surely not you.”
Mace opened his mouth to argue, but then he saw Kelsea’s face in the mirror. “Hilarious, Majesty.”
“Don’t you ever make mistakes?”
“People who make mistakes rarely live through them, Lady.”
She turned from the mirror. “How on earth did you become what you are, Lazarus?”
“Don’t mistake our relationship, Lady. You’re my employer. I don’t confess to you.”
Kelsea looked down, feeling thoroughly rebuffed. She had forgotten who he was for a moment; it had been like talking to Barty. Mace held up the breastplate from Pen’s armor, and she shook her head. “No.”
“Lady, you need it.”
“Not today, Lazarus. It sends a poor signal.”
“So will your dead body.”
“Doesn’t Pen need his armor back?”
“He has more than one set.”