“You’re certain?”
“Yes. Grandfather and I made a record of all official coins. I had to draw them, front and back, beside his descriptions. This was not one of them.”
Strange. Turning to Master Dimas, Cas said, “This coin was your payment?”
“No. She paid regular gold in advance. I will give you those, too, if you wish it,” Master Dimas said grudgingly.
Cas did not bother to answer. He said to Lena, “We should go.”
They drew abreast of Hellin, standing frozen by the door. “Lord Cassia, must you speak of this to anyone?”
Cas held up the coin. “I can’t keep this from the king. You know I can’t.”
Master Dimas had trailed after them. “And . . . the other? The toll keeper? Must he be mentioned? It was a moment of weakness. We were passing over the bridge and . . . I’ve regretted it ever since. I pray for forgiveness every day.”
Though Cas held back a snort, Lena could not manage it. Hellin glared at her.
Cas said, “I don’t have an answer for you. It will have to wait.”
Cas tucked the coin away. They left father and daughter behind and did not speak until Lena stopped halfway down the stairwell.
“Cas,” she began. “When I saw you by the river, that first day, you were holding a shovel.” Her words were careful, as though she were trying to work through a puzzle.
Cas tensed. “Yes.”
Her eyes searched his. “You buried the toll keeper. Izaro.”
“Yes.”
“Was he alive when you found him?”
His answer came slowly. “He was long dead.”
“Then how . . . ?” Lena stopped. How had he known about the stolen chickens, the missing toll? Cas had not told anyone about the spirits. Ventillas had enough to worry about. As for everyone else, it had never felt safe enough to share his secrets. But he would not lie to her.
Quietly, he said, “Ask me. And I’ll tell you.”
Lena did not answer right away. She lifted a hand and held it between them, waiting, he thought, to see if he would back away. When he did not, she placed her hand on his chest and felt the frantic beating of his heart.
Cas did not know how long they stood there, or what she thought. The vein at his neck thrummed. Eventually, her hand fell away. She said, “I won’t ask. Not just yet. Come on, let’s go back to the keep. You can ride the mare.”
14
I have never seen it before,” Queen Jehan said. “Faustina?”
“No, Your Grace,” the old nurse answered. “Nor I.”
They had gathered in the king and queen’s outer chambers. Cas stood by the fireplace, dressed in clothing that fit perfectly and felt extraordinary. He had clasped his hands behind his back so that he would not be tempted to stroke the fine wool of his coat, a deep Palmerin red, or fiddle with the onyx buttons, each stamped with the face of a lynx. Ventillas had already caught him at it, covering his laugh with a cough.
King Rayan held the gold coin up to the firelight, turned it this way and that. “It’s a curious piece. You’re absolutely certain it isn’t ours, Amador?”
“Lady Analena was correct, Your Grace. It did not come from our treasury.” Lord Amador had welcomed Cas back with a faint frown, which he took no offense at. Cas had never once seen him smile or laugh, not in all the years of their acquaintance. He wore the formal black robes and stiff lace collar of a high councilor. The lace was also black. For Cas, the entire effect had always brought to mind a reaper, a short one.
“Ventillas, what do you make of this?” King Rayan asked.
Ventillas stood beside Cas, drink in hand. Their clothing was identical. “The archer knows who Faustina is. Knows she’s dear to the queen. It’s no secret. Not everyone desires peace between Brisa and Oliveras. She’s likely some obsessive still upset by your marriage. This was her way of showing it.”
Queen Jehan occupied the chair closest to Cas. She said, almost to herself, “Faustina. She wished to harm Faustina.” The nurse sat beside her and patted her hand, appearing more concerned for her former charge than she did for herself.
“Yes, Faustina,” King Rayan said, his expression darkening, “with our son the extra cream in the custard.” Standing opposite his queen, he tossed the coin onto the table, where it landed face-up on the god Zacarias. “A war obsessive. What lice they are.”
Cas had shown them the coin and shared the rice merchant’s tale. He had made no mention of Izaro. Several eyebrows had risen when Lena, carrying the prince in her arms and circling the chamber, had confirmed Cas’ story.
“You went into town?” King Rayan had asked her, the displeasure in his voice apparent. “We had an agreement, Analena.”
Lena had also changed for supper. She wore a dress of pale blue velvet and was attempting to untangle the prince’s little fist from her braid. “I did as you asked. I broke no rules. You knighted him yourself.”
King Rayan had looked at Cas. The frown, faint between his eyes, had softened into reluctant amusement. “A man-at-arms. So I did, little sister.”
Now Lord Amador studied Cas with his beetle-black eyes. “How is it the rice merchant confesses all to you, after telling an entirely different story two days ago?”
Camphor. That was something Cas had forgotten. For some reason, the high councilor always smelled of camphor. “I can’t speak for Master Dimas. Maybe his conscience weighed on him.”
The beetle eyes narrowed. “An interesting theory. What business brought you to his home in the first place?”
Across the chamber, Lena lost the struggle over the braid. She looked at Cas. Her eyes met his over the prince’s head. She had been true to her word, handing him the reins to his own horse, as though the mare were a beloved childhood toy and Cas in desperate need of its comfort. On the ride back to the keep, she had spoken of everything and anything, except Izaro and the shovel that had been used to bury him.
It was Ventillas who answered Lord Amador’s question. “Why does that matter?”
“I am merely curious.” Lord Amador brushed an imaginary piece of nothing from his sleeve.
“My brother does not answer to you, High Councilor.” Ventillas’ words were cool. “Not in this city, where he is my second and you are my guest.”
“Always so hospitable, Commander. Well, whatever the rice merchant has done, he has lied to the king’s men and must be dealt with. I will see to it.”
“I think you won’t,” Ventillas said softly. Cas was not the only one who heard the underlying threat.
“Let it be, Amador,” King Rayan said.
“Of course, Your Grace.” Lord Amador bowed, but not before sending Ventillas a dark look. They had come of age together, Ventillas, King Rayan, and Lord Amador. There had been no love lost between Ventillas and the high councilor. Until now, Cas had never been curious enough to wonder why.