‘I wasn’t mocking you.’
‘Yes, you were. You might not think it, but when you play the loyal servant with me, what you’re really doing is saying that if you don’t like what I have to tell you than you’ll just find some way to subvert me without explicitly disobeying me.’
I tried a smile. ‘See, when you say it like that, I don’t sound very clever at all.’
‘You aren’t,’ she said. ‘You just rely on the fact that most of the world is even stupider and more stubborn than you are.’
‘Perhaps, your Majesty, my reticence to follow a monarch’s commands is because the last time I did so, I found myself standing outside these very walls while Ducal Knights came and dragged him to a cell.’
She sighed. ‘I’m not about to commit suicide, Falcio, I promise you.’
‘Excellent.’ I reached for the goblet and the wine. ‘In that case, what would you like to discuss?’
She shook her head, but there was a smile in there somewhere. ‘You obstinate arse! I need your advice.’ She held up a hand. ‘Not to mock me or complain or make threats against the rest of the world. To advise.’
I considered where this might be heading. Despite my better judgement I took a sip of the wine. I was right: it was an outstanding vintage. Just as well; I was fairly sure I was going to need to be very drunk to get through this conversation. ‘You’re going to do as the Dukes demand and marry.’
She put her teacup down on the table. ‘I’m fourteen – it’s not unheard of, especially in a royal line.’
‘To whom should I send my congratulations?’
‘That is precisely what I need your advice for, you great oaf!’
I nearly spat out my mouthful of wine. ‘You want me to help you choose a husband?’
‘Yes,’ she said, so quietly I barely heard her. ‘When you return from this mission, I mean.’
‘Me? Why me?’
She shrugged, the gesture of a nervous child, and for the first time since we sat down, I found myself facing not the determined and clever future Queen of Tristia, but a fourteen-year-old girl forced to make a choice that clearly terrified her. ‘Because when I think of asking anyone else to help me choose, I feel sick to my stomach. Even Ethalia . . .’
I felt a stab of guilt at the way I’d spoken to her. I’d been wrong about the nice chairs and the wine and the pleasant conversation. She hadn’t been trying to ease me into this horrible subject. She’d been trying to build up her own courage to face it.
I tried to imagine what it must be like, to be young, beginning to see your own talents emerging, to see the world full of possibility – and yet have to set that aside, to prepare yourself for a marriage whose only purpose would be to ensure you never fully met your own potential. To consign yourself to be less than you could be in order to satisfy the machinations of old men.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said.
‘It’s not your fault—’
I reached out and took her hand. ‘Well, then, I suppose I’ll have to make a list of suitable candidates.’
Aline lifted my hand and kissed it. ‘Thank you, Falcio.’
I gave her my best smile and tried to mentally prepare for what would one day soon be a horribly awkward and uncomfortable conversation for both of us. I consoled myself with the fact that I was about to travel into enemy territory and face what would quite possibly be my death. If that didn’t work, I’d have plenty of time on the return journey to come up with the required list of prospective husbands, each of whom I would soon be visiting in order to explain the finer details of stab wounds.
‘Oh, I met with Chalmers, by the way,’ Aline said.
I was taken aback by that – we’d only arrived yesterday – but then, Aline always took such pleasure in meeting with every Greatcoat she could. What did you think of her?’ I asked, genuinely curious.
Aline took another sip from her tea. ‘She’s rude and obstinate and she clearly suspects everyone who isn’t a Greatcoat of being morally compromised.’ She put down the cup and grinned. ‘I adore her already.’
Before I could provide my own assessment, Aline rose from the table. ‘I should go. I have to meet with some of the Dukes before the council adjourns.’ As she walked back through the gates, the guards quickly following behind, I thought she might have whispered, ‘I’m sorry.’
I wasn’t sure who she was talking to.
I walked out of the gate and found myself staring at the same point off in the distance that had transfixed Aline. Maybe if I delayed my journey north I could . . . I don’t know, go out there and find the damned horse? Maybe that would make things better. Bloody creature.
Who told you that you could run off and leave Aline alone like that? I thought we had a deal.
‘She’ll be all right, Falcio,’ said a voice somewhere off to my right, and when I turned, I saw Valiana sitting a few yards away on the stone foundation that supported the long iron gate into the castle. How is everyone able to sneak up on me lately?
‘How long have you been sitting there?’ I asked.
‘An hour or so. Aline comes out here around the same time every morning, so I try to keep an eye on her when I can.’
‘“When you can”?’
She winced. ‘There are seven guards watching her at all times now, Falcio. Two of them are Greatcoats.’
‘Which ones?’ I asked, looking out to see if I could spot them. I couldn’t.
‘Lately, Mateo and Quentis Maren. They work well together.’
I found it odd that Mateo, about as heretical a man as I’d ever met, and Quentis Maren, a former Inquisitor, had become such close friends, but really, it was none of my business. Besides, knowing they were watching Aline made me feel much more comfortable about leaving; that was a much more practical solution to ensuring her safety than trying to lock the heir safely away in an impregnable iron box until I could get her seated on the throne.
‘I’m sorry about the ruse,’ Valiana said.
I waved a hand. ‘It’s all right. You did what needed to be done.’ That sounded like a credible response, but . . . no.
‘You could have told me, Valiana. I could have given just as good a performance for the Dukes – or hells, we could have found a different way to meet . . .’
‘I was wrong,’ she said. ‘I should have trusted you.’
‘Damned right . . .’
Only she wasn’t wrong; that was the thing. I would have railed against meeting with the Tailor. I would have refused and stomped around and . . .
What the hells is wrong with me lately?
‘You’re trying to keep us all from danger,’ Valiana said, as if she could hear my thoughts. I suppose it wasn’t that hard; I felt like anyone could read my face these days. ‘This . . . it’s just a different sort of danger.’
When I didn’t reply, she rose from the stone foundation. ‘Anyway, I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you,’ she said, and walked past me into the castle courtyard.
‘You haven’t—’