Destin realized that this was more than an interest in Lila—it was a test of his investigative skills.
“She’s a war orphan. She grew up in the Southern Islands, raised by an aunt. Then joined another aunt in a smuggling operation along the east coast. It’s a family business.”
“What is a smuggler doing at Oden’s Ford?”
“It seems that her family keeps sending her back there, hoping she can make good connections with high-ups in the military.”
“And so she has,” Montaigne said, “on your recommendation.”
“I interrogated her under persuasion when I brought her on,” Destin said. “The story she told checks out.”
“I do enjoy having her at court,” the king said. “She came to dinner last night, and had the entire table in stitches. Even Lord Matelon.”
“Lila is a reckless wit,” Destin said. “She says things other people think but don’t say out loud.” That was always a risk around the king. Montaigne found that kind of candor amusing—until he didn’t.
“I’ll need convincing that she can come through with the magecraft we’re needing. I don’t want an army of uncollared mages running amok in the empire.”
“I have people in Baston Bay, at Watergate, and in the Southern Islands,” Destin said. “I’ll see what else I can find out.”
Maybe Lila will be the king’s new protégée, Destin thought. The king had a habit of elevating commoners to positions of power at court. They tended to be more beholden and compliant than the nobility, who were used to wielding power on their own.
But would he choose a woman for his inner circle? That would be unprecedented.
The king had a habit of playing courtiers against each other. Perhaps it was nothing more than that. Destin liked Lila, too, but he didn’t trust her.
“Come, walk with me.” Montaigne led him out along the low stone wall that divided the formal plantings from the woods beyond. The trees blazed with color against the brilliant sky. The gardens were still overblown with flowers, their scent rank and overpowering, like the smell of decay.
The king walked on, moving delicately, like a deer picking its way over rough terrain. “Asters,” he said, sweeping an elegant hand toward some ragged pink and purple flowers along the flagstone path. He picked a few and handed them to Destin, who let them slip from his hand as soon as he could do so surreptitiously.
Destin had never known the royal gardens at Ardenscourt to be out of bloom. Violas had been his mother’s favorites. They were the only flowers he could remember the name of, though Montaigne always repeatedly pointed out and named the others.
Perhaps it was because Destin was always distracted in the garden, waiting to find out whom it was he had to kill.
By now they’d reached one of the many pavilions that studded the garden, overlooking a pool of stagnant water overgrown with grotesque plants.
“Sit with me,” the king said, settling onto a bench next to the wall.
Destin sat. And waited.
“You’ve been to Carthis, haven’t you?”
It was good that Destin was sitting down. The question came like a blow to the head, so unexpected that Destin might have stumbled on the path.
That the king had asked it meant that he already knew the answer. But how would he know? It seemed unlikely that Destin’s father would have told him.
“Yes, Your Majesty. I lived there for a time as a boy.” My mother and I were so eager to get away from my father that we sailed across the ocean, Destin thought. As it turned out, that wasn’t far enough.
“Tell me about it,” the king said.
As always, there was no telling what the king already knew, and what lay behind his questions.
“Well. It’s mostly sand and rock,” Destin said. “Though it’s pretty far north, the ocean currents keep it warm. It’s nearly impossible to grow anything, so people are desperately poor. That is why so many have turned to piracy.”
Destin was ambushed by memories of the cottage by the sea that he’d shared with his mother, the village where he’d run barefoot through dusty streets. Those had been some of the happiest times of his life.
“Yet, I understand that they have very powerful magic there,” Gerard said. “They say that’s where the mages came from originally.”
“That’s true in a way, Your Majesty,” Destin said. “Mages originated in the Northern Islands, which as you know were once one of the original Seven Realms. After the Breaking, the islands joined with Carthis. They . . . ah . . . they are still loosely connected, I believe.”
“Have you been to the islands?”
“No, my lord.”
“Do you speak the language?”
Destin shook his head. “I used to. I don’t really remember it now.”
Abruptly, the king changed the subject. “So. Another marching season over, and we are still no closer to our goal,” Montaigne said. “I had such high hopes that this would be our breakthrough summer.”
Destin didn’t risk a reply.