on—”
“Me and my retinue?” Maddie had burst out incredulously. “I have ten people, Your Highness. Are you telling me I have to pay rent? In my own father’s house? Fine . . . Or I can find my own residence if you prefer. But I will not be remarrying anytime soon, let alone within the year. And I will not be getting rid of my child!”
She’d left on a high hand, so angry she was shaking. For a while she’d stormed about the palace in a fury. She was the First Daughter! How dare Ronesca speak to her like that! How dare she suggest such things as she’d suggested! The woman was not even of royal blood, nor were her precious sons, offspring not of Leyton Donavan but of her first husband, the count of a minor noble house.
Ronesca was, however, born of the House of Harvadan, one of the oldest of the Chesedhan lines, and it was that fact that finally drained off Maddie’s anger into uneasiness. Maddie might have supporters in the palace on account of her royal blood, but Harvadan had power in its own right. As well as a longstanding antipathy to all things Kiriathan. A legitimate child of Maddie’s—as time would reveal this one to be—would trump any claim Ronesca or her two sons made upon the throne.
What if she decided to take matters into her own hands? A potion could easily be slipped into someone’s food or drink to do its work before anyone realized it was there. The pregnancy would be terminated with no one to blame. The thought so spooked Maddie, she ate nothing in the palace all afternoon and had taken her evening meal at the inn just after she’d arrived.
When she returned from the kitchen to set Trap’s food before him, he gestured at the empty stools before the hearth on the lower floor. “Where’re Kyra and her boys tonight?”
“Entertaining in the back room. Some ‘esteemed gentleman’ who’s fled his villa on Torneki is holding court there. His men came in this afternoon to set things up. They’ve erected a tent in the big dining hall, and he’s brought at least sixteen attendants. The cook staff is all aflutter, and, of course, Serr Penchott is quite pleased to entertain a man of such wealth and nobility. . . .” She trailed off, watching as a glistening brown staffid crawled over the table’s far edge and slithered toward Trap’s plate.
He killed it without even looking, his Light-thread sending it into convulsions a handspan from his plate as he asked, “Does he have a name, this gentleman?”
“I get the impression he didn’t give it.” Maddie pulled the folded rag she used to clean up spills from her waistband and wiped up the spawn as if it were no more than the foam off a tankard of ale. “Everyone just calls him ‘our esteemed guest’ or ‘the gentleman from the south.”’
“What’s he look like?”
“I don’t know. Mace and Lindie are taking the shift.”
“What?!” Trap leaned back to regard her with raised brows. “Snoop that you are, I’d have thought you’d be first in line for that duty.”
“I would’ve, but I got here too late—thanks, I might add, to a certain someone who insisted I wait for my ‘cousin’ to walk me over here!” That had been Lieutenant Whartel, one of her personal guard.
Trap shook his head and sliced into his bullock. “You take your ability to fool people far too seriously, and your safety not seriously enough, my lady.”
She frowned at him for the deliberate slip in his mode of address. “And you take everything in the world too seriously, sir.” She jerked up her chin. “Anyway, when there’s a party like that, it’s difficult to argue the other girls out of the kind of coin they’re likely to receive. Let alone the notoriety that’ll come from serving our esteemed but very mysterious guest.”
“Mysterious indeed. I wonder what he’s hiding.”
“Maybe he’d just like to travel relatively unnoticed—having just been driven from his home and all.”
“Generally folk who desire not to be
“Me and my retinue?” Maddie had burst out incredulously. “I have ten people, Your Highness. Are you telling me I have to pay rent? In my own father’s house? Fine . . . Or I can find my own residence if you prefer. But I will not be remarrying anytime soon, let alone within the year. And I will not be getting rid of my child!”
She’d left on a high hand, so angry she was shaking. For a while she’d stormed about the palace in a fury. She was the First Daughter! How dare Ronesca speak to her like that! How dare she suggest such things as she’d suggested! The woman was not even of royal blood, nor were her precious sons, offspring not of Leyton Donavan but of her first husband, the count of a minor noble house.
Ronesca was, however, born of the House of Harvadan, one of the oldest of the Chesedhan lines, and it was that fact that finally drained off Maddie’s anger into uneasiness. Maddie might have supporters in the palace on account of her royal blood, but Harvadan had power in its own right. As well as a longstanding antipathy to all things Kiriathan. A legitimate child of Maddie’s—as time would reveal this one to be—would trump any claim Ronesca or her two sons made upon the throne.
What if she decided to take matters into her own hands? A potion could easily be slipped into someone’s food or drink to do its work before anyone realized it was there. The pregnancy would be terminated with no one to blame. The thought so spooked Maddie, she ate nothing in the palace all afternoon and had taken her evening meal at the inn just after she’d arrived.
When she returned from the kitchen to set Trap’s food before him, he gestured at the empty stools before the hearth on the lower floor. “Where’re Kyra and her boys tonight?”
“Entertaining in the back room. Some ‘esteemed gentleman’ who’s fled his villa on Torneki is holding court there. His men came in this afternoon to set things up. They’ve erected a tent in the big dining hall, and he’s brought at least sixteen attendants. The cook staff is all aflutter, and, of course, Serr Penchott is quite pleased to entertain a man of such wealth and nobility. . . .” She trailed off, watching as a glistening brown staffid crawled over the table’s far edge and slithered toward Trap’s plate.
He killed it without even looking, his Light-thread sending it into convulsions a handspan from his plate as he asked, “Does he have a name, this gentleman?”
“I get the impression he didn’t give it.” Maddie pulled the folded rag she used to clean up spills from her waistband and wiped up the spawn as if it were no more than the foam off a tankard of ale. “Everyone just calls him ‘our esteemed guest’ or ‘the gentleman from the south.”’
“What’s he look like?”
“I don’t know. Mace and Lindie are taking the shift.”
“What?!” Trap leaned back to regard her with raised brows. “Snoop that you are, I’d have thought you’d be first in line for that duty.”
“I would’ve, but I got here too late—thanks, I might add, to a certain someone who insisted I wait for my ‘cousin’ to walk me over here!” That had been Lieutenant Whartel, one of her personal guard.
Trap shook his head and sliced into his bullock. “You take your ability to fool people far too seriously, and your safety not seriously enough, my lady.”
She frowned at him for the deliberate slip in his mode of address. “And you take everything in the world too seriously, sir.” She jerked up her chin. “Anyway, when there’s a party like that, it’s difficult to argue the other girls out of the kind of coin they’re likely to receive. Let alone the notoriety that’ll come from serving our esteemed but very mysterious guest.”
“Mysterious indeed. I wonder what he’s hiding.”
“Maybe he’d just like to travel relatively unnoticed—having just been driven from his home and all.”
“Generally folk who desire not to be
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