Page 66 of The Witch Queen

“Here you are,” Weston croons, dangling the scrap between the two fingers of his unbandaged hand, his arm extended as far as possible as he inches toward the falcon. “Nice birdie. Pretty birdie. Just—”

Weston bellows as the falcon snaps.

“Damn that creature!” He jerks back, clutching his hand. “And this is my sword arm.”

“It’s not likethat’sany good for anything,” a man quips.

The others roar with laughter. Weston lunges for the offending courtier and they tussle.

“Better luck next time,” Margaret says airily. Then to me, “Isn’t this fun?”

Aside from jousting, this is the most idiotic game I’ve ever seen in my life. And I have no patience for the duchess’s antics.

“Did you remove Joan’s family records from the archives?”

Margaret blinks at me. “Why, yes. I’m making an effort to acquaint myself with thenewnoble families. There are a good many, after all. Since you asked, I noticed thatyoudidn’t have records. Just the marriage certificate when you wed Callen. A rather odd one, I must say. His signature appeared quite out of character. And there were no witnesses listed.”

Thunder grumbles in the distance.

“I would appreciate it if you would return everything you took from the archives,” I say, ignoring her comment. “Immediately.”

“Of course,” Margaret flashes me one of her courtier’s smiles. “And perhapsyoumight grant me a similar favor. I’ve learned that several claimants have dropped out of the competition following the incident at the hunt. Three, actually.”

This is the first I’m learning of anyone withdrawing. “How do you know that?”

“Master Parnell. Did he not tell you?”

He didn’t. And I’ll be speaking with my steward about his future interactions with the duchess. For now, I plaster on a smile of my own.

“Yes, he did. It slipped my mind.”

“One can hardly blame you for being a bit forgetful with all that’s been going on,” Margaret replies. “But that’s why we should work together.”

She loops her arm through mine and leads me away from the group. My skin crawls at her touch and the too-sweet cloud of her perfume.

“I wonder if we might,” she continues, “encouragethe remaining claimants to exit the competition.”

“And how would we do that?”

“I have my own methods of persuasion, of course,” Margaret says with a laugh. “But perhaps ifyouoffered incentives, the others could be convinced to do what’s right.”

The falcon shrieks again. It’s not lost on me that this is the very conversation I was hoping to conduct with Margaret, only reversed. I wantedherto come tome,begging to negotiate.

“Surely such interference would disqualify the princess,” I remark.

“No one will know but us.” Her grip on my arm tightens. “And you do wish to support Blodwyn, don’t you? That’s what you claimed when you presented her with that enchanted bow.”

She mentions the incident innocently enough, but I catch the glimmer in her gray eyes—one that is so much like Callen’s that the place behind my left ribs trembles.

“I do,” I reply tightly.

“Excellent,” she says. “And don’t worry. Once Blodwyn is crowned, you’ll have the support of my army. And I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of after the war’s end. A comfortable house. A generous allowance. We’ll even invite you to court from time to time.”

Like a pet. Like that falcon, chained to a perch and paraded around for everyone’s entertainment. Malum swells behind my sternum.

“I’ll have to consider it,” I say.

“Very well. But don’t take too long,” she warns. “The next trial begins in just over a week. The more claimants we can whittle down, the better. Clear the way for Blodwyn to assume her rightful place.”