Cas spent the rest of the afternoon trying to be invisible. Few at the keep had known Abril. She was not from Palmerin. She had done her work and kept to herself. Which meant that, while the tapestry weavers wept, few others mourned her. That did not stop them from wanting to know the grisly details of her death, and Cas found himself peppered with question after question from everyone he came across.
The guests would be leaving in two days’ time, every last one of them, and preparation had begun in earnest. Master Jacomel was in his element as he directed the packing of trunks and the loading of carts. Staggering amounts of bedding were made ready, from bundled pallets to wool blankets. Silver candlesticks were carefully packed alongside porcelain dishes. Essentials for the road. The musicians would also be returning to Elvira, which meant space had to be found for the bandurrias, tambours, pipes, and accordions. In the kitchen, Cook and her undercooks were run ragged filling crates of fruit, vegetables, cured meats, and salted fish. Cas slunk in long enough to pilfer bread and sausage, then took himself down to the amphitheater.
Captain Lorenz found Cas sitting alone in the stands, watching the soldiers at practice. The men were on horseback, charging one another with drawn swords.
“Interesting day for you,” Captain Lorenz commented, his craggy face red with cold. The chill transformed his words into puffs of air. He remained standing in the aisle.
Cas snorted. That was one way of putting it. A woman dead. A failed chase. A beating. “Yes.”
Captain Lorenz gestured toward the amphitheater floor. “You could join them.”
Cas wanted nothing more. He had missed training, the concentration and discipline it demanded. He had missed being a part of the king’s army. “Maybe tomorrow.”
Captain Lorenz took in his battered face and the hand pressed gingerly against his ribs. “Maybe next month.”
Cas laughed, then winced at the pain it caused.
Captain Lorenz shook his head. “Come with me, lad.”
The captain walked off before Cas could ask where to. Curious, he followed him down the steps into the amphitheater’s labyrinthine underground. There were enough people down here to populate a small city, a shadowy one lit by torches and candles. The tunnels and corridors smelled as he remembered, of metal and of sweat. Cas spent some time greeting men and women he had not seen in years. Armorers, soldiers, animal trainers, the tavern keeper and her grandson who ran the underground alehouse. And for a short time, he managed to forget all about Abril and that awful woman on the horse.
In the captain’s work chambers, parchment was spread across a large table, the pages covered with sketches and handwriting Cas recognized as his brother’s.
Captain Lorenz said, “Lord Ventillas has plans to expand the amphitheater. We’re running out of room here.”
Cas moved a brass compass aside to better see the drawing beneath it. “I remember him talking about it, years ago.”
“Yes, well, we’re still talking. And we’re behind on some repairs, mainly to the fa?ade and the upper tiers. These are his notes, his sketches.” Captain Lorenz riffled the parchment. “But the man is busy. You used to enjoy this. Will you take it over? Draw up the final sketches? Prepare a plan I can work with?”
“I . . . Yes, absolutely I will.” Cas smiled across the table at the older man. “Thank you, Captain.”
“You are the one doing me the favor.” Captain Lorenz came around the table, placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. Cas managed to control a flinch. “As far as homecomings go, yours has been a shoddy one. We will make it up to you, Cassia.”
When the captain had gone, Cas studied the plans in detail. He read over his brother’s notes, several times, then found ink, parchment, and a ruler and began making his own. When Bittor found him to say the queen wished to speak with him, Cas realized that hours had passed and night had fallen.
The chapel was tucked away in a corner of the keep, rarely used since his mother’s passing. It was small, meant only for family, with stained-glass windows and elm wood pews. The first thing Cas saw was Abril laid out on the altar. She was bound simply in strips of burial linen. Without the grand wedding dress, she looked very small and alone.
I am cast into the mire. I am become like dust and ashes.
The memory came to him. His mother had lain on that very altar. A priest had spoken those words on her last day above the earth.
Queen Jehan knelt before Abril in prayer. Three others were present. Lena in a front pew. Ventillas and King Rayan stood at opposite walls, the king by an alcove window, looking out into the darkness. The two friends were as far apart as they could be in the small chapel. That was Cas’ first warning.
At his entrance, everyone turned.
“You sent for me, Your Grace?”
“Come in, Lord Cassiapeus,” Queen Jehan said, rising. All around her, candlelight threw shadows onto the stone. “I was very sorry to hear you were hurt.”
“It was just a scratch.” Cas walked up the aisle. Ventillas gave him a brief, grim nod, the greeting echoed by the king. Cas stopped beside Lena, sitting at the end of the pew. Her lips barely moving, she said, “I wish I were anywhere but here.”
That was the second warning.
Queen Jehan came up to him. “Lena has shown me her grandfather’s list. I hoped to tell you in person about the coins.” She held out a hand, and when Cas did the same, she dropped three gold coins onto his open palm. “Will you stay?”
Cas studied the god Zacarias with his two heads, one looking back, the other forward. Ill at ease, he said, “You don’t owe me an explanation.”
Queen Jehan’s expression said she agreed with him. She glanced at her stonefaced husband. “Nevertheless,” she said.
All was not well between the king and his queen. Cas could see it. Even more, he could feel it, a heaviness in the air that made him want to flee the chapel right alongside Lena. Queen Jehan had lied to Cas about the coins. But he was not the only person she had lied to.
Having little choice, Cas said, “Of course I’ll stay.”
Queen Jehan wrapped her arms around herself as she spoke, the shrouded Abril directly behind her. “Mari and I grew up together. Her mother died when we were very young. Her father was an ambassador of Brisa. He traveled often, and when he did, she lived in the palace with me. We did everything together. When the time came to sail to Oliveras, I brought her with me. Her and Faustina.
“Mari fell ill outside Gregoria. Ventillas knew of a hospital, a good one, in that city. We brought her there. The last time I saw those coins, Lord Cassiapeus, they were with Mari. Sewn into the lining of her dress.”
Cas closed his fist around the coins. “But why . . . ?”