'You seem like a person who can handle a bit of yelling,' she said lightly.
His smile was both hopeless and teary. 'Ror and me yelling and Katsa and me yelling are two different creatures entirely,' he said. 'He's my father, and a king. And I've been lying to him for my entire life. He's so proud of me, Bitterblue. His disappointment is going to be crushing, and I'll feel it in his every breath.'
'Po?'
'Yes?'
'When my mother was eighteen and Leck chose her, who gave permission for the match?'
Po considered. 'My father was king. It would have been him, at Ashen's request.'
'I think Ror must know how it feels to have betrayed someone he loves, Po.'
'But of course, it wasn't his fault. Leck came to his court and manipulated everyone there.'
'How much comfort do you suppose Ror gets from that?' she asked quietly. 'He was her king and her older brother. He sent her away to be tortured.'
'I expect you're trying to comfort me,' Po said with slumped shoulders. 'But all I can think is that if Ror had known I was a mind reader at the time, he could have introduced me to Leck during that visit, for the purpose of investigating his sister's potential husband. And maybe I could have prevented the entire thing.'
'How old were you?'
Po took a moment to calculate. 'Four,' he said, seeming surprised by the answer.
'Po,' she said. 'What do you think Leck would have done to a four-year-old who knew his secret and was trying to get others to see it too?'
Po didn't answer.
'It was your mother who compelled you to lie about your Grace, wasn't it?'
'And my grandfather,' Po said. 'For my own safety. They feared my father would use me.'
'They did right,' Bitterblue said. 'If they hadn't, you'd be dead. When Ror thinks all this through, he will see that everyone has done the best they could think to do at every moment. He'll forgive you.'
IN HER OFFICE, there were certain things Bitterblue no longer felt the need to pretend she didn't know. Rood and Darby might not know the origins of her friendship with Teddy and Saf, but the fact that she might be privy to the things they knew was no longer a secret.
'I understand that Runnemood has made a shambles of the city schools,' she said to Rood and Darby both. 'I understand that hardly anyone is taught history or how to read, which is an utter disgrace, and a problem we're going to address immediately. What do the two of you suggest?'
'Forgive me, Lady Queen,' said Darby, who was sweating, his face clammy and wet. As he spoke, he began to tremble. 'I feel terribly ill.' He turned and ran out the door.
'What is wrong with him?' asked Bitterblue pointedly, knowing the answer.
'He's trying not to drink, Lady Queen, now that Thiel's absence makes a necessity of our presence,' said Rood in a calm voice. 'The sickness will pass once he succeeds.'
Bitterblue studied Rood. His sleeve-ends were stained with ink, and his white hair, combed carefully across the bald part of his head, was slipping out of place. His eyes were quiet and sad. 'I wonder why I haven't worked more closely with you, Rood,' she said. 'I think you pretend less than the others.'
'Then perhaps, Lady Queen,' said Rood, with a small hesitation that she took for modest embarrassment, 'we can work closely on this matter of the schools. What if we were to create a new ministry, dedicated to education? I could present you with suitable candidates to fill the role of minister.'
'Well,' said Bitterblue, 'I can see that it would make sense to assemble a dedicated team, though perhaps we're already getting ahead of ourselves.' She glanced at the tall clock against the wall. 'Where's Captain Smit?' she added, for Smit had promised a report to her on the Runnemood search in person every morning. The morning was nearly past.
'Shall I seek him out, Lady Queen?'
'No. Let's discuss this more. Will you start by explaining to me the way the schools are run now?'
It was a bit odd to spend such focused time with a person who was liable, at unexpected moments, to bring Runnemood sharply to her mind. Rood's unassuming personality could not have been more different, but the timbre of his voice was similar, especially when he began to feel confident about a thing. So was his face, from certain angles. She glanced at her empty windows now and then, trying to absorb how a man who'd sat in those windows so many times could have been capable of stabbing people to death in their sleep and trying to kill her.
WHEN NOON CAME and Smit had not yet arrived, Bitterblue decided to go looking for him herself.
The barracks of the Monsean Guard were just west of the great courtyard, on the castle's first level. Bitterblue swept in.
'Where is Captain Smit?' she demanded of a tense young man who sat at a desk inside the door. He gawked at her, leapt up, then shuffled her through another door into an office. Bitterblue found herself staring at Captain Smit, who was leaning across an extraordinarily tidy desk and talking to Thiel.
Both men rose hastily. 'Forgive me, Lady Queen,' said Thiel in embarrassment. 'I was just leaving.' And Thiel faded from the room before she was even able to gather how she felt about finding him there.
'I hope he's not interfering,' said Bitterblue to Smit. 'He's no longer my adviser. As such, he has no power to compel you to do anything, Captain Smit.'
'On the contrary, Lady Queen,' said Captain Smit, bowing neatly. 'He was not interfering or commanding, merely answering some questions I had about how Runnemood spent his time. Or rather, trying to answer, Lady Queen. One problem I'm coming up against is that Runnemood was highly secretive and told conflicting stories about where he was going at any given time.'
'I see,' said Bitterblue. 'And your reason for not reporting to me this morning?'
'What?' said Captain Smit, glancing at the clock on his desk; then startling her by pounding on the top of it with his fist. 'I'm dreadfully sorry, Lady Queen,' he said in vexation. 'My clock keeps stopping. As it happens, I've little to report, but that's no excuse, of course. We've made no progress in the search for Runnemood, nor have I managed to learn anything about any connections he may have had with the individuals on your list. But we've only just begun, Lady Queen. Please don't lose hope; perhaps I'll have something to report to you tomorrow.'
IN THE GREAT courtyard, Bitterblue paused to glare at a shrubbery of a bird, bright with autumn leaves. She was clenching her one good fist, hard.
Going to the fountain, she sat on the cold edge, trying to work out what she was so frustrated about.
'Lady Queen?'
She looked up to find Giddon standing over her, snowflakes melting in his hair and on his coat. 'Giddon! Po was just saying this morning that you should be back soon. I'm so pleased to see you.'
'Lady Queen,' he said gravely, running a hand through wet hair. 'What happened to your arm?'
'Oh, that. Runnemood tried to kill me,' she said.
He stared at her in amazement. 'Runnemood, your own adviser?'
'There's a lot going on, Giddon,' she said, smiling. 'My city friend stole my crown. Po's inventing a flying machine. I've dismissed Thiel and discovered that my mother's embroidery is all ciphered messages.'
'I wasn't even gone three weeks!'
'Po's been sick, you know.'
'I'm sorry to hear that,' he said, with no expression.
'Don't be an ass. He's actually been quite unwell.'
'Oh?' Now Giddon was looking uncomfortable. 'What do you mean, Lady Queen?'
'What do you mean, what do I mean?'
'I mean, is he all right?'
'He's a bit better now.'
'Is he—he's not in danger, Lady Queen?'
'He'll be fine, Giddon,' she said, relieved to hear the touch of anxiety in his voice. 'I've a list of names to give you. Where are you going first? I'll walk with you.'
