to help, said quietly, “So do we really have to go see the queen?”
I wanted to smack him in the forehead. “ Yes, we have to see her. Come on, don’t get dense on me now. She may be the queen, but she’s also a legitimate suspect, and if you’re going to have a real rule of law, it’s got to apply to everyone. Isn’t that what Drake’s grand design is all about?”
“She’ll take it personally.”
“That’s not our problem.”
“And she isn’t the best person to antagonize.”
“In my experience, people only feel antagonized when they have something to hide. If she had nothing to do with the murder, she shouldn’t get upset.”
“Maybe that’s true,” Kay granted.
“And I’ll be polite. I know how to behave around royalty.”
“Oh, it’s not you I’m worried about.” He managed a wry, tired smile. “You get to leave Grand Bruan when this is all over; I have to live with her.”
FIVE
Immediately after the murder Queen Jennifer Drake had withdrawn to her chambers, using her royal prerogative to override Kay’s order that no one leave the great hall. The queen couldn’t really be expected to mill about with the nobles under circumstances like these, and given the tension between her and the knights, she wouldn’t want to subject herself to their constant scrutiny. So while I had waited in the closet for interrogation, Kay made sure she was safely locked in upstairs before he came to me.
I followed Kay through a door behind the thrones and up a stone, spiral staircase. The stairs were padded, the better to protect delicate royal feet.
Kay pulled me aside just before we emerged onto the next floor. He inserted the key in the disk, and the chain wound back up tight, pulling my wrists together. “Nothing personal, but you will be in the presence of the queen, and you still might be a murderer.” He took a dagger from his belt and made sure that I saw him slip it, hilt- first, up his sleeve. A single flex and it would be in his hand; another flex and it would be in my back.
“Sure,” I said. I couldn’t argue with his logic.
“And I have one request. Please don’t mention what I told you about Elliot Spears.”
“Why would I?”
“I can’t imagine. I just wanted to be clear on it.”
“Being curious is my job, you know. Now I have to ask.”
He considered his words before speaking. “Remember I told you that Elliot doesn’t come around very often? It’s because he and Jennifer had a very loud, practically public falling-out. No one knows for sure what started it, but barracks gossip says one of them broke off the affair.”
“Which one?”
“Depends on who’s telling the story. She never talks about it, though. And he’s not around to ask.”
“So if I mention it, she’ll just say, ‘No comment’?”
“No, if you mention it, she may hand you your teeth.”
I was intrigued, but for the moment it didn’t seem a priority. “Okay. I won’t bring up Spears.”
“Thank you.” He seemed more afraid of this woman’s disapproval than Agravaine’s swords back in the service room.
When we emerged onto the landing, two armored sentries guarded her door. They saluted Kay and stepped aside as we approached. Kay knocked, and one of the young handmaidens opened the door wide enough to peer out. She had blond hair, an ample bosom thanks to the cut of her gown, and slender hips. “Her Majesty is not to be disturbed,” she said.
“Tell her it’s me,” Kay said.
“She said no one.”
“Rebecca-”
“Bob, I know it’s important. But did you see her face down there? She’s a mess. I can’t let you upset her any more, not right now.” The girl looked me up and down, taking in my cuffs. “Come back later, and I’m sure she’ll be willing to talk to you. ”
I could tell Kay was about to accept this excuse, so I said softly, “Tell the queen that if she doesn’t talk to us, we’ll let everyone downstairs, including the knights, know she wouldn’t talk to us.”
Rebecca looked at me as if she’d scraped me from her boot. “I don’t normally trouble the queen with messages from prisoners.”
“I’m sure you’re up to the challenge,” I said.
Rebecca’s eyes narrowed and she slammed the door in our faces. A few moments later she opened it all the way, curtsied and gestured that we should enter. “Her Majesty Queen Jennifer Drake will receive you now,” she recited.
Naturally, Jennifer had the swankiest digs in the palace. Huge tapestries covered the cold stone walls, and a fire blazed in a hearth roughly the size of my office. Oil lamps provided an even glow, and the furniture was heavy, luxurious, and over-ornamented. Somewhere incense burned, and one of the other maidens strummed idly on a harp, never quite hitting a tune.
The queen awaited us before the fireplace. She wore a light silk robe over her blue lounging gown, and her hair had been braided down her back. This close she was even more of a stunner, although something innately fragile about her brought up the desire to shelter and protect her from harsh things. I suspected she was well aware of this effect, perhaps even cultivated it, and probably watched to see if we fell for it. From the look on his face it was clear that Kay always did.
Rebecca, the harpist, and the two other maidens immediately withdrew to a couch in the corner as Jennifer strode to meet us. She put her left hand on her right shoulder, which caused her robe’s billowy sleeve to sweep dramatically through the air. “I assume you’ve got news for me, Sir Robert?” She looked pointedly at me.
Kay bowed just enough for it to count. “Not the news you’re hoping for, Your Majesty. We still don’t know what happened yet.”
“Yes, we do,” I said.
She looked at me, and I got the full effect of her royal charisma. If I’d been a lesser man, I’d have curled up purring at her feet. “Are you confessing?”
I bowed. I’d been taught court etiquette since before I could speak, so it was point-perfect, even with my hands cuffed. “Edward LaCrosse, Your Majesty.”
“He was the first one to reach Sam’s body,” Kay offered. “I don’t believe he’s the murderer.”
She smiled wryly. “But you’re not one hundred percent certain?”
“Not about many things, Your Majesty. But he says he’s a private soldier who knows how to investigate crimes like this, and I’ve asked him to help.”
This time she gave me a look I felt in my scabbard. “A sword jockey?” she said, with a little smile that spoke of royal treasures having nothing to do with jewelry. It was her way of asserting control in her male-dominated world. “Isn’t that the common term? I always thought they were ragged little men hiding under beds or chasing charnel wagons.”
“Not all of us,” I said. “It may be a business of lepers, but I’ve still got most of my fingers.”
“You said you knew what had happened,” she said, ignoring my humor. Most women, royal or not, did that.
“It’s not complicated. Someone wanted to kill Thomas Gillian in a very public way, which meant they had a point to make. Since you provided the murder weapon, that point may also have involved making you look bad. The victim got in the middle of it by sheer dumb luck.”
“Surely you don’t think I had anything to do with it.” It was the obligatory denial, and she was a good enough performer that it sounded genuine. Which it might have been.
“I try not to think anything,” I said. “I let the evidence think for me. Right now the evidence leads us to you. Hopefully it’ll lead us further.”
