“Why did you really bring me out here? To gloat?”
“No,” the Red Queen replied, suddenly subdued. “I wanted to talk to someone.”
“You have an entire kingdom at your disposal.”
“I can’t trust them.”
“You can’t trust me, either.”
“But you are not double-faced, Glynn. This entire castle, these people, all of them look for ways to tear me down.”
“People have always plotted against you. That’s the nature of being a dictator.”
“I do not care about that. It’s the artifice I can’t stand. You may despise me, Glynn, but your hate is open and clear. These people, they smile, but underneath . . .” The Red Queen’s voice hoarsened, her hand tightening on the balcony railing, her knuckles white. Tear legend said that the Red Queen had been born without a heart, but nothing could be further from the truth. What Kelsea was now seeing were the first cracks in decades of iron self-control. She considered putting a hand on the Red Queen’s shoulder, then wondered what she was doing. There was no friendship with this woman.
Why do I give her so much leeway?
Because you were inside her head.
Kelsea nodded, recognizing the truth of this. The sapphires provided the ultimate experience in empathy. It was impossible to hate someone after having watched the long tale of her life: the mother, beautiful and terrible, who had rejected Evelyn Raleigh for years . . . until the time came when the mother needed something to sell. Then the girl had been thrown into the whirlwind. The Red Queen had made her own terrible decisions, but the deck had been stacked against her from birth.
You’ve made your own terrible decisions, Carlin whispered darkly. Who are you to judge?
Kelsea closed her eyes, beset by images: the screaming mob in the New London circus, their faces so twisted by hate that they appeared not human but monstrous; Row Finn’s smile as he stood in front of the fireplace; Arlen Thorne’s face, bleeding from multiple seams as he died in agony; and, last of all, Kelsea’s own hand holding a knife, her fingertips running red with blood.
“Who raised you?” she asked suddenly, opening her eyes, willing the images to be gone.
“Don’t you know?” the Red Queen asked.
“I didn’t see it all,” Kelsea admitted.
“I had a nursemaid, Wright. She was a very smart woman, but she scared me too. She seemed to take it as her job to teach me that life was going to be hard.”
Like Carlin, Kelsea thought, marveling. She had caught flashes of this woman in the Red Queen’s mind; her hair was long and dark, not white like Carlin’s, but there was a similarity. Both women had sharp, hawklike eyes.
“My mother was happy to leave me to Wright. Elaine took all of her time.”
“Who was your father?”
“I don’t know.” The Red Queen looked sharply at Kelsea. “I didn’t want to know. Do you want to know yours?”
Yes, Kelsea began to say, then No. She did want to know, but that was only her academic curiosity speaking. She wouldn’t like the answer, or Mace would have told her.
“Never mind, Glynn. I had not meant to say so much to you, but it has been a long time since I had anyone to talk to. Not since Liriane.”
“Your seer. Was she as gifted as they say?”
“More. We were friends, or I thought we were.” The Red Queen’s brow furrowed in sudden confusion. “Such women are difficult to know, which brings me to the matter. I have received a most interesting offer from your pope.”
“His Holiness? Deal with that man and you’d better have a knife in one hand.”
The Red Queen smiled, but the smile did not touch her eyes. “I think your kingdom is in a great deal of trouble, Glynn. The pope is asking for mercenaries, an entire legion of my army.”
Something inside Kelsea seemed to turn over. She needed to warn them all, warn Mace . . . but of course, she could warn no one.
“For what purpose?”
“Who knows? But his hatred for you is plain.”
“Will you give him soldiers?” Kelsea asked through numb lips.
“Perhaps. It depends greatly on the value of the trade.”
“What trade?”
“The pope tells me that you, Queen Kelsea, have a seer of your own.”
Kelsea’s mouth dropped open. Who had talked? She whirled away, to look over the far parapet, but it was already too late.
“It’s true!” The Red Queen’s voice revealed genuine astonishment. “And the child, too?”
Something broke in Kelsea then. Before she knew it, she had crossed the balcony, grabbed the shoulders of the Red Queen’s velvet dress, and lifted her bodily off the ground, wondering if she actually had the strength to heave the woman over the side.
The Queen of Spades! her mind cried, but the sound was faraway, despairing.
“Don’t even think about it,” she snarled. “Don’t even think about touching them.”
“Be careful, Glynn. Think about what you’re doing.”