“You insane little bitch!” He hit her again.
Once more, she showed no notice, no fear, no pain.
“I’m not certain she can even hear you, Your Grace,” Nimbus offered. “Her Eminence has been known to go into a kind of trance when overwhelmed.”
Saldur stared at the girl and sighed. “Very well, then. If the crowd doesn’t disperse by morning, we’ll send out the army to cut us a path to the cathedral. But the wedding will go on as scheduled and then we can finally be rid of her.”
Saldur turned and left.
Nimbus paused to set the candle on Modina’s table. “I’m so very sorry,” he whispered before following the regent from the room.
The door closed.
Cool air on her face soothed the heat left by Saldur’s hand.
“You can come out now,” Modina said.
Mince crawled out from under the bed. He was pale in the light of the single flame.
“I’m sorry you had to hide, but I didn’t want you to get into trouble. I knew he would be coming.”
“It’s okay. Are you cold? Do you want the robe?” he asked.
“Yes, that would be nice.”
Mince crawled back under the bed and pulled out the shimmering cloth. He shook it a few times before gently draping it over her shoulders.
“Why do you sit next to this window? It’s awfully chilly and the stone is hard.”
“You can sit on the bed if you like,” she said.
“I know, but why do you sit here?”
“It’s what I do. It’s what I’ve done for so very long now.”
There was a pause.
“He hit you,” Mince said.
“Yes.”
“Why did you let him?”
“It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore. Soon it will all be over. Tomorrow is Wintertide.”
They sat in silence for several minutes. She kept her eyes on the city, reflected by the flickering fires beyond her window. Behind her, Mince shifted and fidgeted occasionally, but he did not speak.
Eventually Modina said, “I want you to do something for me.”
“You know I will.”
“I want you to go back to the city again. This time I want you to stay there. You need to be careful and find somewhere safe until the rioting is over. But—and this is the important thing—I don’t want you to come back here again. Will you promise me that?”
“Yes, if that is what you want,” Mince told her.
“I don’t want you to see what I must do. Or be hurt afterward because of it. I want you to remember me the way I’ve been over these last few days with you.”
She got up, crossed to the boy, and kissed him on the forehead. “Remember what I said, and keep your promise to me.”
Mince nodded.
Modina waited until he left the room and his footsteps faded down the hall. She blew out the candle, took the water pitcher from the dresser, and shattered the mirror.
From under the tarpaulin draped over a potato cart, Royce peered around the courtyard. He took special care to study the darkened corners and the gap behind the woodpile. A yellow glow rose from beyond the front gate as if the city was ablaze. Shouts were still coming from the far side, growing louder and demanding the release of Hadrian and Breckton. The unseen mob called for the empress to show herself. It was a perfect diversion but also put every guard in the palace on alert.
“Are we going in or not?” Magnus grumbled, half buried in tubers. Royce answered by slipping out. The dwarf followed, and as they made their way to the well, Royce was impressed by how quietly Magnus moved. Royce kept a constant check on the guards facing the gate. No one was paying attention to the courtyard.
“You want to crank me down, or do you want to go first?” Magnus whispered.
“There’s no power in existence that could cause me to let you do the lowering.”
Magnus muttered something about a lack of trust and sat on the bucket, holding the rope tight between his legs. Royce waited for the dwarf to get settled, then lowered him until Magnus signaled him to stop. When the weight left the bucket, Royce lowered the pail to the bottom, braced the windlass, and climbed down the rope.