She pivoted on her heel and marched out, slamming the great door behind her with a resounding boom!
She stood with her back against the door, waiting, wondering if Alric would chase after her.
Will he apologize and take back what he said and agree to let me go?
She listened for the sound of his heels on the parquet.
Silence.
She wished she did know magic, because then no one could stop her from meeting with Gaunt. Alric was right: this was their last chance. And she was not about to leave the fate of Melengar to Dillnard Linroy, statesman extraordinaire. Besides, she had failed and that made it her responsibility to correct the situation.
She looked up to see Tim—or Tommy—leaning against the near wall, biting his fingernails. He glanced up at her and smiled. “I hope you’re planning on heading to the kitchens. I’m starved—practically eating my fingers here.” He chuckled.
She pushed away from the door and quickly strode down the corridor. She almost did not see Mauvin Pickering sitting on the broad sill of the courtyard-facing window. Feet up, arms folded, back against the frame, he crouched in a shaft of sunlight like a cat. He still wore the black clothes of mourning.
“Troubles with His Majesty?” he asked.
“He’s being an ass.”
“What did he do this time?”
“Replaced me with that sniveling little wretch Linroy. He’s sending him on the Ellis Far in my place to contact Gaunt.”
“Dillnard Linroy isn’t a bad guy. He’s—”
“Listen, I really don’t want to hear how wonderful Linroy is at the moment. I’m right in the middle of hating him.”
“Sorry.”
She glanced at his side and he immediately turned his attention back to the window.
“Still not wearing it?” she asked.
“It doesn’t go with my ensemble. The silver hilt clashes with black.”
“It’s been over a year since Fanen died.”
He turned back sharply. “Since he was killed by Luis Guy, you mean.”
Arista took a breath. She was not used to the new Mauvin. “Aren’t you supposed to be Alric’s bodyguard now? Isn’t that hard to do without a sword?”
“Hasn’t been a problem so far. You see, I have this plan. I sit here and watch the ducks in the courtyard. Well, I suppose it’s not really so much a plan as a strategy, or maybe it’s more of a scheme. Anyway, this is the one place my father never thinks to look, so I can sit here all day and watch those ducks walking back and forth. There were six of them last year. Did you know that? Only five now. I can’t figure out what happened to the other one. I keep looking for him, but I don’t think he’s coming back.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” she told him gently.
Mauvin reached up and traced the lead edges of the window with his fingertips. “Yeah, it was.”
She put her hand on his shoulder and gave a soft squeeze. She did not know what else to do. First her mother, then her father and Fanen, and finally Hilfred—they were all gone. Mauvin was slipping away as well. The boy who loved his sword more than Wintertide presents, sweet chocolate cake, or swimming on a hot day refused to touch it anymore. The eldest son of Count Pickering, who had once challenged the sun to a duel because it had rained on the day of a hunt, spent his days watching ducks.
“Doesn’t matter,” Mauvin remarked. “The world is coming to an end, anyway.” He looked up at her. “You just said Alric is sending that bastard Linroy on the Ellis Far—he’ll kill us all.”
As hard as she tried, she could not help laughing. She punched his shoulder, then gave him a peck on the cheek. “That’s the spirit, Mauvin. Keep looking on the bright side.”
She left him and continued down the hall. As she passed the office of the lord chamberlain, the old man hurried out. “Your Highness?” he called, looking relieved. “The royal protector Royce Melborn is still waiting to see if there is something else needed of him. Apparently he and his partner are thinking of taking some time off, unless there is something pressing the king requires. Can I tell him he’s excused?”
“Yes, of course you—No, wait.” She cast a look at her bodyguard. “Tommy, you’re right. I’m hungry. Be a dear and fetch us both a plate of chicken or whatever you can find that’s good in the kitchen, will you? I’ll wait here.”
“Sure, but my name is—”
“Hurry before I change my mind.”
She waited until he was down the corridor, then turned back to the chamberlain. “Where did you say Royce was waiting?”
CHAPTER 4
THE NATURE OF RIGHT
The Rose and Thorn Tavern was mostly empty. Many of its patrons had left Medford, fearful of the coming invasion. Those who remained were the indentured or those simply too poor, feeble, or stubborn to leave. Royce found Hadrian sitting alone in the Diamond Room—his feet up on a spare chair, a pint of ale before him. Two empty mugs sat on the table, one lying on its side while Hadrian stared at it with a melancholy expression.