Page 31 of A Treachery of Swans

And he is not alone.

The Step-Queen looks up, her lips parting in a surprised, viciously redO.She doesn’t move from where she stands, midway through pouring a thin stream of sickly-looking yellow liquid into the Dauphin’s teacup. “My, it seems someone has forgotten all their manners,” she drawls.

“Apologies,” I say sweetly. “I was so consumed by lust for my betrothed that I forgot to knock.”

The Step-Queen scowls and rights the vial, corking it and tucking it into the mourning-black folds of her gown. She watches me as she does so, as if daring me to say anything, to challenge her, but Ionly glower back. A smoldering quiet spreads between us.

The Dauphin groans. “Enough of this,” he says. “There is truly no reason for such animosity.” He downs the tea in one gulp, grimaces, and then sets the empty cup aside. “What is it, Marie?”

“Might we speak alone?” I meet his eyes meaningfully.

To my relief, he nods and then looks to the Step-Queen. “Stepmother, if you don’t mind.”

The Step-Queen shakes her head. “Aimé, I do not think that is wise in your current condition. Especially not after yesterday’s… escapade.” She crosses her thin arms, inclining her head at me. “Speak, girl. What you say to the Dauphin, you should be able to say to me as well.”

The Dauphin opens his mouth, closes it again. A flash of frustration passes over his face. “Stepmother, please,” he says. “Were you not just saying you needed to attend to Pierre?” I recognize the name of the Step-Queen’s young son. “Besides, Marie and I need to discuss the wedding, and the duties she will soon have as queen.” He takes her hand, widening his eyes until they are almost comically pleading. “Please. Uncle is bad enough, treating me like I need to be confined to my room lest I do something foolish. I beg you, at least, to trust me.”

To my shock, his piteous, puppyish expression seems to have its desired effect. The Step-Queen’s face softens—a feat I thought impossible—and she steps away. “You are too trusting, my son,” she says heavily. “Be cautious of her words. And come see me when you are done.”

With that, she strides from the room.

As soon as she is gone, the Dauphin sheds his pleading expression and groans. “My apologies. She can be overbearing sometimes.” He eyes the empty teacup with distaste. “Mothers, but she makes me feel like a half-witted child.”

“You seem to play the role quite well,” I say before I can stop myself.

The Dauphin makes a strangled noise. “Marie!”

I throw up my hands. “I meant it as a compliment! You were very convincing.”

He pounds his chest, laughing. “You reallyhavechanged.”

“I was rather dull, wasn’t I?” I can imagine the real Marie’s unimpressed stare in my mind’s eye. “But you’ve changed too. You’ve become so…” I reach for a polite word.

“Useless? Pathetic?” He smiles wryly. “It’s what everyone thinks.”

I don’t admit those are the precise words I was thinking of. “Well…”

“Trust me, I know. That little act of mine unfortunately works only on my stepmother. Everyone else thinks I’m too sentimental, too emotional, to do what must be done. My father made no secret of how disappointed he was in me. My uncle apparently thinks I’m unfit for the throne.” He sets the teacup aside and sprawls out on the bed, putting his arm over his eyes. “And now my best friend, myonlyfriend, is in prison, while I can do nothing butwither away.”

For the first time since entering the room, I notice the empty wine bottle on his nightstand, the crossbow he was gifted the eve of the ball shoved into one corner. There’s a crack running its length, as though it was thrown in anger.

I almost feel a stab of pity, almost, until Regnault’s voice rasps through my mind.He is your enemy. His grandfather is the reason there are hardly any sorciers left. Do not lose sight of why you are here.

He’s right, of course—I force my thoughts back to the task at hand. “Speaking of Damien,” I say. “I keep thinking about what he told us yesterday.”

As soon as I utter my brother’s name, Aimé sits up again. “I do too. None of it makes sense.”

“It doesn’t,” I agree. “How could one man kill not only the King, but the two guards traveling with him?”

“Precisely!” the Dauphin exclaims. “I tried to say that, but no one is listening to me!”

“Have you thought about why that may be?”

“Of course,” he says sullenly. “They’re hiding something from me.”

“I think so too.” I tap my fingers on the table, carefully formulating my next words. “And I have a suspicion it has to do with the cause of death. Therealcause of death, not the stabbing Damien was blamed for.”

“But my uncle was present when the royal surgeon inspected my father’s body,” the Dauphin insists. “He insists the wounds were clearly from a knife.”

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