Page 44 of Golden Queen
He glanced at me, his brow furrowed. "There is no reason to be sorry...or to thank me. I was glad to help him. It's not always possible to do it. Sometimes when death is so near, it's much too...wrapped up with a person's life and it's impossible to remove. Antonin, it seems, has been fighting the end very valiantly."
"That makes sense. He never wanted to leave Madia here all alone."
"Indeed...love is one of the few things that can contend with death."
We walked for a while and then I asked, "Is the pain the reason the Athelen healer could not help him? Madia gave him a fortune in gold."
"He could not do what I did. There are few who could." Like before, he was not bragging. It was simply a detail.
While we waited for the stable boy to lead our horses out of the barn, I caught him rubbing his head as though it pained him. He shrugged me offwhen I asked if he had a headache, and he sat in the saddle with that same easy grace as he turned his horse to the right out of the brothel's drive.
"That's the wrong way," I said, angling my horse in the other direction.
"I thought you might like an escort back to the castle before I collapse in my bed under the weight of the headache that's coming."
It took me longer than it should have for the words to filter through, and it wasn't until I met his gaze that I understood. "Oh," I said, feeling the blood drain from my face.
He only laughed and trotted next to me. "Come, Princess, don't pout because I've uncovered one of your mysteries."
I gave him a dark look, but the cat who caught a mouse look on his own face had my lips curving into a smile.
I heaved a sigh. "Asshole," I muttered, as I passed him.
His laugh echoed behind me.
Seven
The following day, I found myself in the godsgrass, seated on Etreyiu, without Arkadian at my side.
Markus sat on a big black destrier just ahead of me, shooting me questioning looks. I knew he wanted to know how I'd managed to heal as quickly as I had, and my excuse that I had covered the bruises with a new cosmetic sounded flimsy even to my ears.
There was little he could do but wonder, though, especially with the nobles and courtiers grouped around us as we all waited for the emissaries from Nightfall.
Io had taken me as far as Merchant's Square the night before, where we dismounted in a shadowed alley between two shops. He was smiling broadly as I turned to leave, and I narrowed my eyes at him in question.
"I'll see you tomorrow in the godsgrass, Princess," he said, grinning. "I have a gift for you."
He refused to say more. He just smiled that devilish smile, and by the time the new day dawned, there was nothing that could have stopped me from meeting the party from Radune.
Markus' big horse threw his head irritably as we waited. Etreyiu, under me, was as still as a statue. The only indication that he was not made of stone were the rhythmic movements of his breathing.
I dressed carefully in light, ceremonial armor as had once been traditional for these little meetings; white enameled chain mail, a decorative gold breastplate, and pauldrons over a long white gown draped artfully over Etreyiu's flanks.
I wore my pale white hair braided on either side of my head in the style I knew my mother favored—the style she sported in the painting of her in similar armor that hung in the gallery.
Where I was milky pale and bone white, Queen Laisera had been dark and rich. Her portrait was done in forest greens and crimson. Her armor was ancient-looking burnished gold and matched the sword that hung at her side.
The painting had always made me think of old fairy tales of bold adventures and human heroes going off on epic quests to slay evil magicalvillains. It looked rather ridiculous next to the ghostly portrait that had been done of me on my eleventh birthday.
Markus pulled his reins up harshly, causing his horse's eyes to roll angrily as he spun around. "I will wait no longer." He raised his hand to signal his guards to return to the castle.
"If we leave, it will be a sign of disrespect to Nightfall," I told him, gritting my teeth.
"She's right, Lord regent." said Bryce Mandelian as he pulled his horse closer to me. "We should give them more time."
His daughter, Franca, my lady-in-waiting, trailed behind him on a big black warhorse. She had begged her father to let her ride out to meet the fae when the bird arrived that they were approaching the city.
She looked beautiful with her rich brown skin against a sage-colored gown and a mass of dark curls arranged high on her head. Franca had the same boldness and vibrancy as the portrait of my mother. Looking at her made me wish I could paint, if only so that I could capture the way her pale blue eyes were so striking against her complexion.
