Page 52 of The Crimson Throne
But I breathe through the quick spike of unease.Just play it through. Don’t make moves based on assumptions.
“And where do your loyalties lie?” she asks. Her sewing rests in her lap again, her head tipping. “With him or with your queen?”
The whole room’s hanging on my answer. Hanging in concern, some, but hanging in amusement mostly. Lord Latimer falling out offavor with the queen via his secretary is a scandal that her court would see fit to gobble down.
But I pay no attention to any of those vultures. It’s Mary I watch.
Mary and Alyth.
Alyth’s eyes fly over me, head to toe and back again, looking, searching. She’s reading something in me, something in the way I stand or the way I shift, and I stare at her for a too-long beat, trying to figure out how I’m giving myself away. What tells has she figured out in this short of a time?
I face Mary again, doing my best to ignore Alyth and the heat of her focus. It rubs everywhere she looks, a visceral touch, and I damn near shiver at it. Wrong place for such thoughts.
“Your Highness,” I say, then bow again. “I am loyal to you, my queen. Your husband merely took interest in my English lineage. I am your servant before I am Latimer’s, before any heritage I have been burdened with, before anyone else. If I have given you reason to distrust me, I offer my sincerest apologies and beg your leave to prove my devotion.”
For the smallest moment, Mary looks over her shoulder at Alyth. They make eye contact, but nothing passes between them, no change in expression, no whispered word.
Mary’s grip on her sewing tightens, and I frown at it, frown at the way Alyth’s fingers twitch at her side.
Mary faces me again. “Permission granted, secretary,” she says. “I know of a way in which you might prove your devotion now.”
I nod. “Of course, Your Highness. Anything.”
“Given the king, my husband, finds you so…amicable, I would ask you to take advantage of that and gain his trust. Ascertain if he is aware of these plots or if, perhaps, there is a weakness in his armor we have not exploited.” Her face breaks with that girlish smile fromour first meeting. It’s an uncomfortable, forced contrast to her stoic bearing. “Latimer is right. I do have resources I have not tapped, it seems.”
Jesus bloody Christ.
Spying on Mary for Cecil.
Spying on Darnley for Mary.
Who’ll Darnley have me looking into? England? Make the circle complete.
“There is only one outcome,” Bothwell pipes up; he’s the sort who seems unhappy to go unnoticed for too long. “He must die, Your Highness. Having a man on the inside of his circle would be of use for that.”
I cringe.KillDarnley?
Of course. Of course that’s what I’d be used for. Even if they don’t know what I really am, what tool I really possess for them—it’s found me all the same.
My mistake folds back on me immediately: I made a face of disgust.
Mary notes it and tips her head. “You would not kill him, secretary. But you are loyal to me, are you not?” she asks, a threat behind her crooning words. “Getting close to him won’t be a problem?”
I bow low, my hair hanging over my face. “Of course not, Your Highness. Consider it done.”
And if I do her this favor, prove myself to her, maybe she’ll trust me more. Bring me into her circle. Tell me about hidden fae magic she’s got.
That’ll take years, won’t it? Years of ingratiating myself with her.
My heart sinks, a leaden weight I can feel tugging on my throat.
“There.” Through my hair, I see Mary stand from her throne.“That’s settled. Latimer’s secretary will investigate any other options for being rid of the king, my husband. It is indeed a path we have not taken, having someone inside his personal circle looking into what weak points he may have. We will reconvene before the christening.”
I straighten as Mary leaves and the room breaks apart, but my body is sore, every muscle wound to the point of cramping.
They’re gonna twist me up to have to kill the bastard myself. Then what? They’ll just let me trot merrily off after committing regicide like that?
Worst-case scenarios bubble up inside me and spill over, leaving me wrestling down my racing heart and rising fury. I can feel my skin getting hot, can feel anger pushing at all my soft spots.
