Then perhaps you should not have spoken them. Nor dismissed me from your presence like a lackey. I will never forgive you for that. Anger bubbled up, acid and burning.

« Annoura. »

We are here at the gates. The party had arrived at the great, majestic arch on the northern side of the city. She pulled on the reins and brought her mount to a halt. Lead your men. Go to your war. Be with your friends, the Fey. They are the only ones you truly love.

He leaned across, caught her horse's reins, and brought her up short. "Enough." With a kick of his heels, he brought his horse alongside hers. "I would bid you farewell, wife."

He lifted her veils before she could stop him, and his face froze at the sight of hers. She caught his wrists in a fierce grip. "Haven't you humiliated me enough?" she hissed. "Leave me some shred of dignity." The veils slid from his unresisting fingers and fell back into place.

"Annoura ..."

Her jaw clenched and she had to force the next declaration out through a tight throat. "You. .. hurt me." Her voice cracked, and she had to pause to regain her composure. "You promised me you never would, but you did." She drew a deep breath and pulled icy calm around her like armor, "it will never happen again." The invisible distance between them widened to a chasm.

The softness faded from Dorian's eyes and face. "Very well, madam. Since you are determined to put your pride between us, I take my leave of you. We will speak again when I return from this war. Until then, may the gods keep you and our children safe." With a stiff nod, he clucked to his mount, tugged the reins, and rode away. The army followed him, pipers and drummers still playing their joyous march to war.

Annoura stared blindly forward as the army of Celieria passed by. Her sheer scarlet veils fluttered around her face, casting the world in a wash of blood and catching on the damp tracks of her tears.

Chapter thirteen

Celieria City ~ The Royal Palace

"Your Majesty, I've taken the liberty of preparing a little surprise for you." Jiarine Montevero gave Queen Annoura her most charming smile. The court had just returned from seeing the king's army off, and most of the courtiers were partaking of a sumptuous banquet on the terrace.

"I'm very tired, Jiarine," the queen replied, "and I'm not fond of surprises."

"Indulge me, Your Majesty. I promise you will like this one. I thought you might desire some peace and quiet away from the court."

The queen was still heavily veiled, so Jiarine could not see her expression, but her years of dancing attendance on Annoura had not gone to waste. The queen hesitated. "What did you have in mind?"

There was just enough curiosity in Annoura's voice. "I've prepared a private meal for you in the south garden. Your Majesty." The south garden was a walled retreat, well away from the noisier lawns and gardens frequented by the rest of the court. Its use was reserved exclusively for the royal family.

Annoura's veiled figure went stiff. "His Majesty granted you permission to use the south garden?"

"No, ma'am," she answered smoothly. "I didn't ask His Majesty. I asked His Highness, the prince. He thought it was a wonderful idea." When Annoura hesitated a moment more, she added, "I've arranged for your favorite food and music. I could keep you company, if you like, or you could be all alone, uninterrupted, away from the prying eyes of the court."

The queen capitulated. "Oh, very well. I suppose I could use a few bells of peace and solitude."

Gaspare Fellows had lost sight of Lord Bolor.

The nobleman had been here, on the terrace, partaking of the luncheon banquet following the departure of the king's army. Gaspare had turned to answer a question from one of the courtiers, and when he looked back. Lord Bolor was gone.

He hurried to the edge of the terrace and scanned the castle grounds. Though he couldn't see Lord Bolor, a flash of scarlet veils caught his eye. In the distance, he could see Jiarine Montevero leading what looked like a shei'dalin away from the palace.

Gaspare's heart began to race. The queen had worn scarlet and veils this morning. He lurched forward and Love gave a tiny screech of alarm at the sudden movement.

This morning's pursuit of Lord Bolor had resulted in more questions than answers. After leaving Old Castle Prison, Lord Bolor had traveled to a pub located near the main barracks of the king's army. There, he'd met a young man wearing the uniform of a lieutenant

Gaspare hadn't been able to get close enough to hear what they were saying, but had managed to get a good look at the soldier on his way out: a young brown-haired man with a distinctive, brownish red birthmark on his left cheek—Shadow's brand, superstitious folk would have called it. It was a wonder the man had made it to a lieutenancy with a mark like that on his face.

The soldier had returned to the barracks, and Gaspare had continued to follow Lord Bolor, but the nobleman had returned straightaway to his rooms in the palace, presumably to prepare for the king's departure. The rest of the morning had passed without incident. Lord Bolor had gathered with the rest of the court to cheer the king and his army, and though Gaspare had watched him intently throughout the procession, he'd seen nothing more to rouse his suspicions.

Yet suspicious he still remained.

And now here was Jiarine Montevero leading the queen away from the palace towards the secluded south garden. And Lord Bolor had just disappeared. Presumably into the palace gardens.

Call him a crack-skull, but something about the situation just didn't feel right.