We ran into the occasional guard, passed out drunk, on our way to Adran’s rooms. Celot stood guard outside and inside the queen waited on a carved throne, candlelight shimmered along the golden paint on its arms and back. Behind her stood Aydor, his gaze unfocused as he swayed under the influence of drink. My eye was drawn to the vicious scar his mother had given him.
“When I call my servants,” said Adran, “I expect them to come straight away.”
“I see no servants,” said my master. “Would you like me to find some for you?”
“Stop your insolence,” shouted Aydor, but he was too drunk to speak properly, and each s came out as sh. Adran glared at him. “Aydor, you have a busy day tomorrow so go and drink some water and get some sleep.”
“But—” She cut him off with a sweep of her hand.
“Go!” She transferred her glare from him to me as he staggered out of the room. Once he was gone she leaned forward. “Merela, watch your tongue in front of my son or I’ll have it cut out.”
“Sorry, Queen Adran. Sometimes I forget we are not the friends we used to be.” There was no mistaking the edge in my master’s voice.
“Acquaintances, Merela. I seem to remember a merchant’s daughter can never be friends with one of the thankful, can she?”
My master looked away. “I understood you had questions for Girton, Queen Adran. Best ask quickly as he has to ride out tomorrow and needs his sleep.”
“Yes.” She smiled at me and turned on her full charm, inclining her head a little in my direction, and suddenly I saw what had made a king fall at her feet. “Are you enjoying your time here, Girton?”
“Yes, my queen,” I said, and immediately felt foolish for my airs and graces and added, “though the beatings get a little wearing.”
“You have picked up Merela’s talent for sarcasm.” Adran stood and walked over to me, gently taking my hand in hers, then she squeezed it so hard I could feel the bones grinding together. “It is wise to remember, child, that I need your master, not you.” She let go of my hand. “So, boy, who do you suspect wishes to murder my son?”
“Everyone, Queen Adran,” I said and inwardly cringed at the look on her face. She plainly could not decide whether I was being sarcastic again. My hand ached. “I only mean that I seem to do nothing but uncover more motives, rather than rule people out.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, a good third of the guards—”
“Can be ignored. We know who they are and they are kept well away from Aydor. Besides, a guard cannot afford an assassin.”
I did not think it politic to mention that my master and I often worked for free if she thought the cause just. “Well, then there are the squires.”
“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow. “Why would they wish to harm their future king?”
“Well, they believe he holds them back.”
“Explain.”
“There …” I felt myself wilting under the pressure of her gaze and cleared my throat with a nervous cough. “There is a belief that after your son failed to pass his trials for Rider the other squires have been forbidden to advance.”
She shook her head and smiled as she returned to her throne. “Foolish boys making excuses. They are embarrassed is all. Aydor was chosen to take the trials first as he is foremost among them. If he could not pass the trials, what point the other boys even trying?” I could not tell whether she was making excuses for her son or if she truly believed what she said. I felt a little sorry for Aydor then, but only a little.
“The Festival Lords were very upset—”
“Politics and business, nothing else. And besides, we knew of the assassin before the Festival Lords arrived.”
“Daana ap Dhyrrin has spoken quite openly of—”
She waved a hand, though a look of distaste crossed her face. “I have Daana well in hand, boy. Next.”
Silence filled the air of the small room while I thought.
“May I ask a question, Queen Adran?”
“If it is not impertinent, yes.”
“Why do you allow Daana ap Dhyrrin to voice treason?”
“Because he is an old man—” she leaned forward “—and it amuses me to hear him rant. He would not have Aydor killed because he believes when I die the common people will flock to Tomas.” I nodded. “But before I die, boy, Aydor will be high king, and the common people will not matter. When Aydor is high king, Tomas is welcome to this draughty old castle, and Daana ap Dhyrrin knows it.”
“But old men may be impatient,” I said, echoing my master’s words.
“They may,” said Adran, “but Daana ap Dhyrrin has been playing the infirm old man since before I married Doran ap Mennix. I suspect he has a good few years in him yet. He plays a long game. Maybe when Aydor has ascended the throne he will try and have me killed to hurry his plans along, but to kill Aydor now would taint his grandson, and the old man would hate that.”
“Neander then, he is an ap Vthyr and—”
“They hate us, that is true. But Neander wants power. He is as committed to seeing Aydor ascend to high king as I am. Forget Neander.”
“But I came across him in a disused part of the castle. He was—”
“I know all about Neander’s jaunts into the castle for his flock, and you need not worry about them. In fact, I forbid you to go near Neander.”
“Forbid?” said my master. “You told me nowhere would be forbidden. And now when we tell you we have suspects you make excuses for them.”
“Not excuses,” she said, but couldn’t hide her discomfort. “I merely do not want you to waste your time on dead ends.” She stood and avoided looking my master in the eye. “This is my son’s life, Merela. Apply yourself—” she stood behind me, laying a hand on my shoulder “—or I will find a way to motivate you further.” A shiver ran through me as Adran walked back towards her throne. She let the silence build before saying casually, “What about that scruffy boy, Girton? What is his name?”
“Which boy?” A coldness settled in my stomach.
“Rufra. You should look very carefully at that boy.”
“I cannot imagine Rufra would—”
“Well maybe you should imagine it,” she hissed. “That boy has always struck me as untrustworthy, and as you pointed out the ap Vthyr hate us. You should use your closeness to him, boy, to find out what game he plays before I decide you and your master are of no use.” She sat back down on her throne of gold-painted pine. “You may leave now, both of you.”
We walked in silence back to our room. When we were inside I said in the Whisper-that-Flies-to-the-Ear:
“What was that about, Master?”
“What do you mean?”
“She seemed adamant that we should not look into the people most likely to want to hurt her son. That makes no sense”
“Yes. On both counts.”
“But why?”
“Because I suspect she has secrets and we are straying near them. This castle is full of secrets.”
“What sort of secrets do you think Adran has that she would risk her son for?”
“Terrible ones, Girton. Most likely she has found who hired the assassin and come to some accord with them. She can be persuasive.”
“Then why are we still here? And why did she almost tell us she thought Rufra was to blame.”
“Maybe she knows something we don’t about Rufra.”
“Rufra would not—”
“I don’t say he would, but maybe he is not what he seems and now Adran sees us as a convenient way to remove him.”