moon.”
She took another drink, and anger fueled her words. “Oh, it still occurs; it always will. But it’s furtive now, hidden, disreputable. If the great King Marcus hates it, it must be a bad thing. That’s how the common thought goes.” She looked at me. “Can you imagine his reaction if he found out his own queen, his own wife, took part in it behind his back? That one day she would become a priestess able to lead rituals?”
“Is that what Rebecca meant when she said you were ‘so close’?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know, Marc seems a pretty levelheaded guy. He might support it. And even if he didn’t, you are the queen.”
“Make no mistake, Mr. LaCrosse. In Grand Bruan, Marc is the jewel; I am merely the setting. I can be replaced.”
I raised my glass. “You turn a colorful phrase yourself.”
She bowed slightly to acknowledge the compliment. Then she continued, “He allows me great freedom, but he expects his few absolutes to be followed. And one of them is that moon worshipping is forbidden.”
“So if I tell him what I saw, you’re screwed.”
“Pithy. And accurate.”
“You also mentioned someone named Kindermord. Who is that?”
“I don’t know. It’s a name that came up a lot back when Marc was first crowned king, but I never met the man. And Marc never talks about him anymore.”
“He said it was old gossip. What about?”
“I really don’t know. It’s been twenty years, at least.” She finished her drink. “Is there anything else?”
“Did you really have those apples with you the entire time?”
Her hard expression softened enough to show real fear. “Mr. LaCrosse, with the moon as my judge, I picked them myself, brought them in my personal baggage, and never let them out of my sight except for the five minutes prior to the actual banquet, when I left them in the extremely crowded kitchen in the care of some pretty young serving girl I’d never seen before in my life.”
“Who got beaten up by your man Agravaine.”
Her face darkened. “He is not my man.”
“He’s one of the few knights who seems blindly loyal to you.”
Through clenched teeth she said, “That may be. I have no control over his unhealthy obsessions. But whatever he’s done is at the whistle of his master, not me.”
“Who’s his ‘master’?”
The distaste in her voice was enough to sour milk. “Marc’s nephew. Medraft.”
That name, spoken so casually, brought me up short. “Not Ted Medraft?” I asked softly.
My reaction didn’t surprise her. “Yes. The infamous ‘Dread Ted.’ You know him, then?”
This was unexpected, and unpleasant. And I should’ve thought of it myself. During my final campaign as a mercenary, just before I woke up as the only survivor of a whorehouse massacre and vowed to change my ways, we got a visit from a contingent of young Knights of the Double Tarn cadets. They were there to get a taste of actual combat, something no longer possible on Grand Bruan.
I couldn’t tell you who the others were. But Ted Medraft stuck with me. Part of it was his youth: he was barely a teen, dark-haired and bare-cheeked. He was soft and rather overrefined for a knight, and the rumor was he’d got his commission through connections rather than merit. At the time, I could not have cared less.
The exchange program ended before it really started, though. Our unit commander, a grizzled old soldier who’d seen more corpses than a village full of gravediggers, sent the cadets packing without even time to rest their horses. When they were gone, and the commander had got suitably drunk, he told us why.
It seems young Medraft sat in on an interrogation and offered to help motivate the subject. What this involved was kind of vague, but it made one officer in charge pass out and then desert the unit. The other later beat someone senseless for merely asking about it.
By now Medraft would be grown, and the talents he demonstrated as a youth would be refined and perfected. That’s not something I wanted to contemplate.
And I had no idea he was Marcus Drake’s nephew. “By reputation,” I said to answer her question. “Then his mother is…”
“Marc’s sister Megan.”
I poured another drink. “If I’d known he was involved, I’d have raised my rates.”
“Yes. Ted takes an ‘interest’ in me. The way a man takes an interest in a friend’s wife. I’ve never encouraged it, but he’s let me know that, should I ever be threatened, he will make sure the threat… goes away. And Agravaine, who’s always underfoot, is like the younger brother who fancies his elder sibling’s girlfriend. He makes sure Ted knows everything, secretly hoping Ted will lose interest and he’ll be able to step in.”
“A charmer.”
“Which one?”
“Both.”
“Indeed. Although Ted actually can be charming. And he has quite a flair for love poetry.” She paused. “Is that all?”
“It’s all I know to ask. Is there anything you want to tell?”
“I did not poison those apples. Nor do I know who did. That is all I can tell because that is all I know.”
“Then I guess we’re done.” I bowed. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You have a surprising sophistication, Mr. LaCrosse. You haven’t always been a ‘sword jockey,’ have you?”
“No, I used to be a shoemaker. But my sole wasn’t in it.”
She smiled, lopsided and wry. Despite everything, I liked her; if she was stringing me along with lies, then maybe I should be a shoemaker. She left through the hidden door, which closed silently behind her. I finished my drink, considered another, then thought better of it. My observational skills had got bad enough without more help.
There was a knock at my door. Before I moved the chair, I said, “Yeah?”
“It’s Bob Kay.”
The bolt slid aside and Kay entered. I held out my wrists for the manacles. He sighed, “Oh, stop it.” He closed the door behind him and said in a low voice, “Marc sent me to explain the plan for getting you out.”
“Can’t I just walk out the door?”
“Agravaine and his pals know you’re leaving. They’ll be waiting for you tonight at the main gate.”
“How do they know?”
“Because I told them. I want them waiting at that gate. They also know that Gillian’s asked for trial by combat. Unless they can pin the crime on you, specifically a dead you, they know the queen will be found guilty.”
I scowled. These vaunted knights, purveyors of chivalry and all that was good in men, sure didn’t live up to their publicity. “How did you guys manage to get this shining-armor reputation again?”
“There was a time,” he said sadly.
“Do all the frilly important people still think I’m guilty?”
He nodded. “The longer we keep them locked up here, the more certain they are, even after Marc’s little show. That’s why Agravaine wants to make quick work of you, so they can post your head at the gate and get Jennifer off the hook.”
“So Agravaine’s after me, and that means, indirectly, that Ted Medraft is after me.”
Kay’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know about Medraft?”
“How does anybody?”
“Well, lucky for you Medraft’s not here. Marc keeps him assigned to the northern posts, where his particular skills are best used. He may barely be a man age-wise, but just knowing he’s in the area gives a lot of raiding parties second thoughts.”
I had to laugh. “And Marc thinks I can just waltz out and go fetch his pal Elliot.”
“Marc asked me to make sure you get out of the castle without running into any problems, and I’ll do that.” Kay walked past me to the window and looked out. “Come here. See that hill right there, the one that lines up with
