game you’re playing, my lord, one where the black queen is not yet even on the board. Why send me to Lutetia and not Isidro in Essandia?” She passed off the question with a wave of her hand even as she asked it. Passed off, too, the chiding, flat-mouthed glance her father gave her; she went to Lutetia because Sandalia was not there, and that gave Belinda space to insinuate herself in society before the queen’s return. “Does it matter to you how I become close enough to the throne to watch it and judge its actions?”
“Has it ever?” Robert asked lightly enough. It had not; not from the night he’d murmured Belinda’s duty to her, and set her on du Roz. All she had known was the man’s death must be accomplished, and even at not quite twelve, that it should look like an accident seemed obvious. Robert had been astounded at the swiftness of her actions, and at the method of du Roz’s death. Belinda recalled with exquisite clarity the brief admiring expression on her father’s face as she’d swooned and trembled in a guard’s arms during the aftermath of sudden, dreadful death. No, if even then she had accepted her tasks and determined her own path to achieving them, Robert would not likely now commanded her walk a road of his choosing.
“Find a way to shove Gallin from the parapets; that’s all we need,” he said, as though following her thoughts of du Roz. “Sandalia has never had Lorraine’s caution, and an ill-advised word spoken to an ear we can trust is what we need. Find that weakness, Primrose. Find that ambition, and exploit it. We cannot allow Aulun to fall into Ecumenic hands again.”
Belinda widened her eyes in a mockery of innocence, a hand placed against her breastbone. “Why, my lord, do you say that you trust me so very much, then?”
Sudden unexpected fondness deepened Robert’s eyes, and Belinda glanced away. “You are a good girl, loyal and true,” her father said, as if from a distance, “and I would trust no other beyond you.”
Belinda stood, gathering her soiled skirts, and dipped a curtsey of unnecessary depth. “Then I’m away to Gallin in the morning, my lord, to prove your faith in me.”
ANA DI MEO, COURTESAN
17 July 1587 Aria Magli, Parna A door opens, almost soundless, breaching the space between rooms more thoroughly than a handful of spy holes can do. A man enters, long strides eating the space in small rooms. His voice, his question, is abrupt with unusual uncertainty: “And?”
Ana taps a fingertip against the arm of her chair, a soft thump of flesh rather than the rat-tat of longer nails. She leans on the other elbow, one knuckle pressed over her lips as she watches Drake pace in front of the fire. In another man such action might speak of nervous energy. In Robert, it has more of the predator to it, heavy solid movements that threaten to back quarry into position for the kill. He is the only man who has ever refused to pay her in coin.
He is the only man she can imagine permitting that refusal.
“She is lonely, my lord.”
Robert turns in astonishment. “That hardly matters.”
Ana tilts her head, eyebrows drawn down. “On the contrary. Almost nothing else does matter. Women will do things to ease loneliness as men will do them to ease the pangs of love.”
“Not Rosa.” Robert makes a sharp gesture, dismissive. “No more than I.” Silence falls before he makes another gesture, still sharp, now demanding. “What might she do?”
“Besides ignore your summonings for hours on end?” Ana’s eyebrows arch with challenge. “Robert, emotion is not a predictable thing that follows step to reasonable step.”
He arches an eyebrow back, and Ana laughs. “All right, maybe for you, my lord, but those of us who are merely human are made of weaker stuff.” She gets to her feet and comes forward to slip her arms around his waist, smiling up at him. “My lord Drake. Do you know that ‘drake’ means ‘dragon,’ Robert?”
He frowns at her with good humour, the lines of his short-cropped beard making the expression all the more dramatic. “Aulunian isn’t your native tongue, Ana. How do you know that?”
“Neither is Reinnish, Robert, and that’s where the word comes from. I do have some education.”
“Yes.” He cups her cheek wonderingly, shaking his head. “The loveliest women, trained for bedding pleasure and stimulating conversation. I will never understand Aria Magli.”
“Aulunian reserve,” Ana says, “will never understand the rest of Echon at all. Do you know there are people who believe you Aulunian are all knitted out of the fog that haunts your island? All so cool and pale and emotionless.”
“And what do you believe?”
Ana smiles. “That you’re unlike most Aulunian men I’ve met.”
“Then I believe I’m flattered.” Robert shakes his head again. “But you’re not here to flatter me. Tell me how Rosa will jump.”
Ana sighs and steps back, brushing her knuckles across her own mouth. It had been easy, in the moment, to believe that the young woman might have forgotten her duties to spend the night in the arms of another who shared similar duties. But then she’d drawn back, repulsed and panicked, and had fallen into a swoon. Ana keeps her eyes lowered until she’s certain her expression won’t betray the hurt she felt at Rosa’s rejection, until the pulse in her throat has slowed a little. It’s only a few seconds before she lifts her gaze to meet Robert’s eyes. “She is bound to you, Robert. She won’t betray you.”
“And I can trust that?”
Ana snorts, all semblance of delicacy left behind as she turns away. “You can trust there’s not a much better judge of character than a whore. What are you afraid of with her?”
Robert holds his tongue so long she finally looks over her shoulder. “It is my experience,” he says with the delicacy she’s abandoned, “that females are far more pragmatic than males. I did not mean to question you quite so…rudely.” The deference in his voice is astonishing, his gaze lowered and shoulders rolled as he tries to make himself smaller. They’ve been lovers on and off for sixteen years; it isn’t the first time Robert has questioned her judgment and abased himself at her snappish replies. It never ceases to amaze her. “It’s unlike her to abandon her duty as she did today. I must be certain of her loyalty.” His voice remains soft, apologetic.
“No wonder your queen is so fond of you.” Ana comes back to him, touching his chin to make him lift his head. “I’d like to meet the mother who trained such deference to women into you.”
Robert smiles, thin. “No,” he says, “you wouldn’t. Now there was a dragon.” More humour lights his eyes and he shakes his head. “I need you to do something for me, Ana.”
“Will I get a lot of money for it?” Impishness prompts the question and she’s rewarded by Robert throwing his head back and laughing aloud.
“Expenses. I won’t pay more than that, you know that.”
“I do.” Ana holds her breath a moment before plunging into a question that’s plagued her for years: “Why is that, my lord?”
Robert’s heavy eyebrows lift. “Because in my world, a woman chooses her lovers. A man might woo, but it is an honour to be chosen. To offer coin would be…a killing offense.”
“That,” Ana says drolly, “is hardly the Aulun I’ve heard of. Perhaps you nobles are more genteel than the fog can bear news of. Maybe I should visit there, or even stay. That sounds much more pleasant than spreading my legs at the drop of a coin.”
“Not all Aulunian men,” Robert murmurs, “dance on the whim of their queen.”
“True. All right.” Ana claps her hands together, curious. “What do you need me to do, Robert?”
“Follow Rosa to Lutetia.”
Ana laughs as loudly as Robert did a moment earlier, her humour fading as Robert’s expression remains serious. “You can’t possibly mean that.”
“Why not?”
“What would I do there? Why would I follow her?”
“You’re a resourceful woman, Ana. Come up with an excuse. An evening of dance and drink awoke an unbearable longing in your loins for the lass. A wealthy patron finally made good his debt and you can retire; whatever it takes.”
“I thought you said you trusted her.”
