“Will Arliss live here with us?” Kelsea asked.
“I don’t know,” Mace replied. “He’s been in the Keep for a couple of days now, but that’s only to inspect all of your uncle’s things. He has bolt-holes all over the city. I’m guessing he’ll come and go as he pleases.”
“What exactly is his business?”
“Black marketeering.”
“Be more specific, Lazarus.”
“Let’s just say procurement of exotic items, Lady, and leave it at that.”
“People?”
“Absolutely not, Lady. I knew you wouldn’t accept that.” Mace turned away so that Andalie could help Kelsea undress, and walked around the room extinguishing torches. “What did you think of Venner and Fell?”
Who? Kelsea thought, and then she remembered the two arms masters. “They’ll train me to fight, or I’ll make them regret it.”
“They’re good men. Be patient with them. Your mother didn’t even like the sight of weapons.”
Kelsea grimaced, thinking again of Carlin, of that day with the dresses. “My mother was a vain fool.”
“And yet her legacy lies all around you here,” Andalie murmured unexpectedly, pulling pins from Kelsea’s hair. Once Andalie had finally completed the messy business of getting the dress off without aggravating Kelsea’s wound, Kelsea climbed into bed, so tired that she barely registered the cool softness of clean sheets.
How did they change my sheets so fast? she wondered sleepily. Somehow, this seemed more magical than anything else so far. She turned her head to say good night to Mace and Andalie and found that they’d already disappeared and shut the door.
Kelsea couldn’t lie on her back; she shifted slowly in the bed, trying to find a comfortable position. Finally she relaxed on her side, facing the empty bookshelves, exhausted. There was so much to be done.
You’ve done plenty already, Barty’s voice whispered in her mind.
A panoply of images poured from Kelsea’s memory. The cages burning. Marguerite, tied before her uncle’s throne. The old woman in the crowd who’d wept on the ground. Andalie, shrieking in front of the cage. The row of children seated in the nursery. Kelsea shifted beneath the sheets, trying to feel comforted, but she couldn’t. She sensed her kingdom around her, beneath her, stretching for miles in all directions, its people in extraordinary danger from the Mort cloud on the horizon, and she knew that her first feeling was true.
It’s not enough, she thought bleakly. Not nearly enough.
Chapter 9
The Jewel
So many forces were at work against the Glynn Queen that she might have been a rock outcropping in God’s Ocean, worn down by the inexorable tide. Instead, as history shows, she shaped herself.
—The Glynn Queen: A Portrait, KARN HOPLEY
Faster, Lady! Move faster!” Venner barked.
Kelsea danced backward, trying to remember the careful footwork Venner had taught her.
“Keep the sword up!”
Kelsea raised the sword, feeling her shoulder protest. The thing was incredibly heavy.
“You need to move quicker,” Venner told her. “Your feet must be faster than your opponent’s. Even a clumsy swordsman could outmaneuver you at this point.”
Kelsea nodded, blushing slightly, and readjusted her grip. Being quick with a knife was very different from being quick with a sword. The width of her body, combined with the unwieldy appendage of the sword itself, was a hindrance. When Kelsea twisted around, she found her own limbs blocking her passage. Venner refused to let her work against anyone but himself until she moved faster, and Kelsea knew he was right.
“Again.”
Kelsea readied herself, cursing inside. They hadn’t even gotten to what she was supposed to do with the sword; her job right now was to keep it raised in front of her. Between her shoulder wound, her lack of muscle tone, and Pen’s heavy armor, holding the weapon was a daunting task in itself, and remembering the intricate footwork at the same time was nearly impossible. But Venner was a demanding teacher, and he wanted his full hour. He would doubtless keep her working for the remaining fifteen minutes. She raised the sword, sweat running down her cheeks.
“Dance, Lady, dance!”
She stepped backward, then forward, anticipating an imaginary opponent. She didn’t stumble this time, an improvement, but she could tell from Venner’s sigh that she’d moved no faster. She turned to him, panting, and raised the sword helplessly. “Well, what more am I to do?”
Venner shifted from one foot to another.
“What?”
“You require conditioning, Lady. You’ll never be as lithe as a dancer, but you’d move faster if you carried less weight.”
Kelsea flushed and quickly turned away. She knew she was heavier than she should be, but there was a big difference between knowing something and hearing it spoken out loud. Venner was old enough to be her father, but she didn’t like hearing criticism from him. If Mace was in the room, she knew, he would never have let Venner get away with it. But she also knew that she invited impertinence by her casual manner, her refusal to punish anyone for speech.
“I’ll speak to Milla about it,” she replied after a long moment. “Maybe she can change my diet.”
“I meant no disrespect, Lady.”
Kelsea gestured him to silence, hearing a soft movement outside the door. “Lazarus, is that you?”
Mace entered with a perfunctory rap on the door frame. “Majesty.”
“Are you spying on my lessons?”
“Not spying, Lady. Merely protecting an interest.”
“So say all spies.” Kelsea took a small cloth from the bench and wiped the worst of the sweat from her face. “Venner, I believe we’re done.”
“We’ve ten more minutes to go.”
“We’re done.”
Venner put his sword back in its scabbard, his face disgruntled.
“Only three days till you can torment me further, arms master.”
“I torment you for your own good, Lady.”
“Tell Fell I’ll expect a report tomorrow on my armor.”
Venner nodded, visibly uncomfortable. “I apologize for the delay, Lady.”
“You may also tell Fell that if there’s been no demonstrable progress by tomorrow, I may have only one arms master from now on. A man who can’t procure a suit of armor after two weeks can hardly be trusted with anything else.”
“One man can’t adequately cover everything, Lady.”
“Then make him understand, and quickly. I’m tired of his delays.”
Venner departed, his face troubled. With Mace’s help, Kelsea began to remove Pen’s breastplate from her sweaty torso, breath hissing through her teeth as it came loose. Her breasts ached while she had the thing on, but they ached even worse when she took it off.
“He’s right, Majesty,” Mace told her, laying the breastplate on the bench. “You need two arms masters; that’s how it’s always been. One for training, one for procurement.”
“Well, neither of mine will be this slow.” Kelsea fiddled with the buckles that held armor to her calf. The things had clearly been made for men, men with short fingernails. Tugging against the thin leather, Kelsea felt the nail of her index finger bend back, and snarled under her breath.
“The Regent left the Keep this morning.”
“Really? Before the deadline?”
“I believe he means to avoid pursuit.”
“Where will he go?”
“Mortmesne, perhaps. Though I doubt he’ll get the sort of welcome he expects.” Mace leaned back against the wall, inspecting Pen’s breastplate. “But really, who cares?”
“You came to talk to me about something else, Lazarus. Let’s hear it.”
The ghost of a smile crossed Mace’s face. “I need to change your guard, Lady.”
“Change it how?”
“In our present position, I can’t see to everything and be a shield to Your Majesty as well. You need an actual bodyguard, a protector constantly at your side.”
“Why is this only coming up now?”
“No reason.”
“Lazarus.”
Mace sighed, his face tightening. “Lady, I have been over and over what happened at your crowning. I’ve discussed it with the others. They were placed to guard you from every angle.”
“Someone shouted. I heard it right before the knife hit.”
“To create a distraction, Lady. But we’re all too well trained for that. A Queen’s Guard might turn his head, but he wouldn’t move.”
“Someone in the crowd, then? Arlen Thorne?”
“Possible, Lady, but I don’t think so. You were covered from a straight assault. The knife could have come from the gallery above us, but . . .”
“What?”
Mace shook his head. “Nothing, Majesty. I’m still uncertain, that’s the point. You need a close guard, one whose loyalty is beyond question. Then I can be free to investigate this matter, to do other things.”
“What things?”