by Bec McMaster
Yes, well. She forced a smile, and then decided she may as well make conversation. She couldn’t say “thank you” again. “Are you enjoying London?”
“Very much so.” He immediately brightened. “There is much to do here, and I would enjoy prolonging the experience.”
“You are one of Catherine’s favorite great-grandchildren, though,” she protested. “Surely your great-grandmother would desire your presence at court.”
“She has not roused for many years. I believe this summer may well be her last.” He shrugged and then gave her a steady look. “It may not be wise to be a grandchild in the court when she passes.”
Catherine’s eldest, whom she’d named heir, had been murdered, and now the rest of them scrambled for position.
“Ah,” she said. “Perhaps a summer in the south, then?”
“Perhaps.” His horse tossed its head, and he looked her in the eye. “Though I have hopes I may be spending it here.”
A little presumptuous. She smiled. “Not as warm and sunny as the Mediterranean, though London comes alive during the summer. You would enjoy it.”
“May I ask…? Sir Gideon is a friend, is he not?”
Alexandra froze. “Yes. A dear friend. He is one of the councilors that rule the city. The Duke of Malloryn is another. You have met Malloryn, yes?”
Prince Ivan’s eyes hooded. “Yes, I have met the duke.” And clearly not enjoyed the encounter.
Silence fell.
She could sense him gathering himself to ask another question, and nudged her heels against her horse’s flanks. “Time to return, I think. There is to be breakfast on the lawn, and then I believe we are to play croquet. Malloryn will be there. I shall introduce you again—”
“And Sir Gideon?” This time he looked at her boldly.
Alexandra wheeled her mare. “I do believe so, yes.”
Chapter 9
The next morning, the queen fled her suitors and found a quiet patch of lawn in the gardens.
Her solitude was not granted for long. A child’s laughter echoed through the air, and then Mina came into sight with little Madeleine, holding a kite in her hand.
The second the little girl saw her, her face lit up and she ran to grant Alexandra a hug. “Aunt Alexandra.”
The queen ruffled her hair, bending low to kiss her forehead. “My little rabbit. If you keep dashing about like that, you’re going to trip and stain your pinafore.”
Maddie smiled. “I never trip!”
Alexandra’s smile faded as she looked up at her friend. “I see you’re using my goddaughter against me.”
“Nonsense,” Mina replied. “It’s a lovely day, and as your dearest friend, I’ve long been granted the run of the grounds here at Kensington. It was mere happenstance that we came across you.”
“I’ve only just forgiven you,” she replied tartly.
Mina clasped her hands in the kite’s strings. “Excellent. I thought you were still avoiding me.”
Alexandra turned away. “You presume too much.”
“Always.” Turning into the wind, her friend eased the kite out several lengths, then caught the string when it suddenly soared. “Here, Maddie-love. Make sure you stay away from the trees. I absolutely refuse to be climbing one today.”
“Yes, Mama.” Madeleine beamed at the pair of them as she accepted the string. The kite almost hauled her off her feet, but she used her blue blood strength to rein it in. Any normal child would have most likely fallen flat on their face.
“She looks like she’s grown three inches,” Alexandra murmured, as the little girl dashed across the grass, her kite pinwheeling through the sky.
Mina’s smile slipped. “We’ve managed to find a formula that sustains her. Malloryn suggested it, actually. One of his Rogues discovered a protein solution that a blue blood can survive upon without being forced to drink blood.”
The little girl had been born with the craving virus, but refused to drink blood. Alexandra couldn’t say she blamed her, though poor Maddie had been sickly for most of her first year and cried incessantly until her parents realized she needed more than a wet nurse.
It was becoming a common affliction as more and more children were being born to blue blood parents—or to be more particular, blue blood mothers. Once upon a time, the Echelon had insisted only males be offered the rites that infected them with the craving, but with more and more women succumbing to the virus, they’d had to deal with this new problem that had arisen.
“It’s a relief, I must admit.” Mina fell into step beside her, and for once, her cool reserve faded. “There’s nothing worse than not knowing how to help your child.” Her face suddenly blanched. “I’m so sorry, Alexa. That was inconsiderate.”
Alexandra turned away. “You didn’t mean it.”
“I know. But I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
She watched little Madeleine curtsy to one of the gardeners. Maddie had her mother’s auburn curls and dark eyes, but her smile was pure mischief, just like her father’s.
A familiar pang of longing swept through her.
Edward would have been almost seven by now. She’d barely had a chance to see him before they’d taken him away, but he’d worn a wealth of thick dark hair—just like hers—and though his eyes had been forever closed, his little bow mouth had been all hers too. There’d been none of his father in him.
A hand reached for hers, and Alexandra swallowed as Mina squeezed. “He was a beautiful little boy.”
“He was,” she whispered. It never became easier to speak of it, but doing so kept the memory alive. “I miss him so much. He would have loved to play in these gardens.”
“You should have a plaque erected here.”
Alexandra released a slow breath. “Do you think so?”
“Beneath those trees,” her friend replied, pointing to a shady corner. “And you can sit there when you want to visit with him. I can come with you, and Maddie can bring her kite.”
She nodded briefly. “Thank you. That’s a lovely idea. I’ll talk to the head gardener.”
They strolled along the path, both lost in silence. Sometimes she hated how her loss caused so many silences. Only Mina would dare speak of it with her, and she couldn’t tell her dearest friend how much that meant to her.
Instantly, she forgave her for the vote against her interests.
“Are you growing weary of balls yet?” Mina asked.
“I’m growing weary of pretending to smile at some ill-conceived attempt at humor.”
A laugh escaped the duchess. “Then don’t. They’re here to woo you. Not you them.”
“I’m trying not to insult a foreign prince,” she replied dryly. “England has enough enemies within, thank you very much.”
“And have you any preferences?” her friend asked.
“Does it matter? My preference would be to remain unmarried, but my wishes are rarely taken into consideration. I think it more fitting for the council to tell me which of their candidates would be preferred, since they are running my kingdom for me at the moment.”
Mina arched a brow.
Fine. She was still vexed.
“I don’t believe the council as a whole has a preference, though I tend to agree with Malloryn’s choice this one time,” Mina replied.
“You what?” Alexandra stopped in her tracks. “Since when do you agree with Malloryn?”
“I always agree with Malloryn when he makes sense.”
“Who? Who is it?”
“Oh, no.” Mina shook her head. “If I mention a name, then I may inadvertently circumvent the entire process. You are stubborn, my dear.”
“And you are a terrible friend.” Alexandra strode ahead through the garden. “Plotting with Malloryn behind my back…. What does your husband think of that?”
“My husband merely rolls his eyes and tells the pair of us to leave you alone.”
“Hmph. Barrons is an exceptional man with excellent sense.”
A scalded so
und echoed in Mina’s throat. “Please don’t tell him that. I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“I should throw a parade just for him.”
“If you even think about it,” Mina warned, “then I’ll tell Malloryn you don’t have enough suitors to contend with.”
Alexandra slapped her with the fan that dangled from her wrist. “Truce.”
“Truce.” Mina caught her arm. “What a clever little brooch. It looks like my spider.”
“Thank you.” Alexandra turned her shoulder toward her friend. “It was a gift from Prince Ivan.”
“Do you favor him?”
Alexandra strolled across the grass, picking her way through her words. “He has an excellent bloodline. Strong ties to the tsarina.”
“Good teeth and a hearty constitution?” Mina murmured wryly. “You’re not choosing a horse to race at Newmarket. Has he been kind to you?”
“He is brusque, and his interest quite clear.” She sighed. “No, I do not favor him. I tolerate him because I must. Though perhaps he’s been the most forthright of all my suitors. The Duke of Alba’s brother can barely understand a word I say.”
“Don’t marry the prince,” Mina said dismissively.
“Why not?”
“You don’t care for him,” Mina replied. “Choose someone you do care for.”
“I don’t have the luxury of insisting upon someone I care for,” she replied curtly.
“If not love, then at least insist upon friendship,” Mina chided. “I want to be happy for you. I want to see a smile on your face.”
Alexandra sighed. “And I want a country that settles into a boring state of nonchalance, a council that doesn’t try to impede me at every step, and an end to being shot at or poisoned.”
“No word on the person behind the scheme?”
“Malloryn is still turning over rocks. You don’t think the cook did it either?”
“I would like to be that naïve,” Mina said shortly. “But if Malloryn thinks there’s more to it, then I daresay he’s right. He’s no fool.”
“Mama!”
They both looked to the right, where Maddie stood forlornly beneath a pair of ash trees, her red kite hovering in the branches.
Mina sighed. “I swear if I told her to jump in the pond, it’s the only time she wouldn’t do it.”
“I hope you have your climbing shoes on,” Alexandra replied with no small amount of enjoyment.
“Do try not to enjoy this too much,” Mina growled, hauling swathes of her skirt out of the way as she strode toward the tree.
“Oh, no,” she called. “I’m going to enjoy every moment of it. It’s the least you deserve.”
“What do you think of this?” Alexandra murmured.
Malloryn clasped his hands behind his back. He seemed distracted, and she had to snap her fingers to capture his attention. Those stormy gray eyes blinked into focus. “Pardon?”
Alexandra straightened from the plans her architect had been drawing of Buckingham Palace. Her great-great grandmother, Queen Charlotte I, had completed its construction in 1836, but Alexandra’s husband had always despised the place and preferred to create his own legacy. He’d persuaded her father, King Michael I, to begin renovations of the Banqueting House that remained from the Palace of Whitehall fires, down by the Thames.
After he’d overthrown her father and forced her into marriage, he’d insisted upon completing those renovations, though the project had expanded beyond thinking. It became known as the Ivory Tower, a shining beacon of purity that was supposed to rule over London forever. If there was one thing she could thank Lord Balfour for, it was destroying her husband’s cursed monument.
And yet, such destruction now left her with no particular residence to call her own. Windsor was too far from London. Kensington too small for her entire court. Her people needed to see her. They needed to be reminded that she was their queen and that all her husband’s monuments were nothing more than ash and dust, just as he was.
And Buckingham suited her purposes. Or at least, it would.
“Are you ignoring me, Malloryn? Am I boring you?” she demanded.
“No,” he replied sharply, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “My apologies. I was… thinking.”
“Thinking.” Alexandra straightened. “Do you possibly suppose you can think a little more on what I’ve been saying, and not on whatever is plaguing you?”
Malloryn stared at her.
Alexandra stared back. He was not behaving at all like himself. “Well?”
“There is something I must do first,” he muttered.
And then, to her shock, he knelt at her feet.
“What are you doing?”
“Apologizing,” he said. “It has been brought to my attention that I… I may push you too hard and try to manage you, when it should be the other way around. And I wanted you to know that I do not see myself as anything other than your servant. I am loyal, my queen. Even when I am… managing matters. I only have your best interests at heart.” His voice roughened. “And if you wished for me to retire as your Master of Shadows, then I would do so.”
Alexandra’s mouth fell open.
Of all the things she’d never expected to hear….
“Good grief,” she said. “Is this your wife’s doing?”
His face twisted. “My wife did mention something about it, yes. Though it was Miss Townsend who first broached the subject.” He looked up. “I was pushing you to marry, and I was wrong. You should be free to make your own choices.”
“I am free to make my own choices.” Alexandra swished around the table, heading for the decanter on the sideboard. She splashed a mouthful of cordial into a glass and then sipped at it. “Are you trying to tell me that you don’t think I should marry?”
“Of course I think you should marry,” he said, resting his hands on one thigh.
She arched a brow.
“I won’t lie. It’s exactly what I think you should do. But I went about it the wrong way. I conferred with several members of the council and maneuvered you into that vote. I knew which way it would go, and I deliberately backed you into a corner. I should have spoken to you about it, and only you. And then I should have trusted you to make the right decision.” His face grew hard. “I’ve lost your trust.”
“Stand up,” she said firmly, because while a part of her did enjoy the sight of him on one knee, it also unnerved her a little. Malloryn was the weapon she always had at her back. And while that weapon sometimes rubbed her the wrong way, she slept better at night knowing he was out there, protecting her. “If I didn’t trust you, Malloryn, I would have had you locked in a cell long ago. You’re too dangerous and you know too much for you to go free, but I have always known that you reserve those instincts for those who remain enemies of the empire. And yes, you overstep yourself at times. And yes, you’re a little managing”—she looked back down at her maps—“but sometimes, I may privately admit to myself that you are right, when I am wrong. I need you at my side to remind me in those moments. Too many others do not, and as my father always said, a wise ruler listens to even those who speak against her.”
“And then does whatever the bloody hell one desires anyway,” he said by rote as he stood.
It earned a smile from her. “He did say that, yes.”
Malloryn leaned against the table, crossing his arms over his chest. “He would have been proud of you, did you know?”
She stirred her fingers across the plans. “I like to think so.”
Silence fell.
She could see thoughts racing through his eyes, as he clearly began to restore his equilibrium. And her first thought was that that would not do, but would she then be guilty of the precise thing he’d just apologized for?
“I will accept your apology,” she said slowly. “And I am sure we will be arguing over the council table within a few months as if this conversation never happened. But you were right. I do not like the way you maneuvered my back to the wall.
If you feel something needs to be done for the good of the empire, then come to me. I promise I will listen. And I promise I will think about a resolution. But your wife and friend are also right: I cannot continue like this. I need to know that I can trust you.”
His focus seemed to have shifted again. He cocked his head and glanced to the side, frowning.
She wanted to slam her fist on that table. “Malloryn!”
Instead, he held a hand up. “What is that noise?”
“What noise?”
Crossing the room, he stalked along the bookshelves, narrowing in on the shawl she’d been wearing. Squatting down in front of the chair it hung on, he flipped it out, revealing a glimmer of gold.
Clinging to her shawl, the little scarab whirred its wings. What on earth was it doing? She hadn’t wound it since this morning, and its functions had ceased several hours ago.
“Oh, that,” she said, with some relief. “It’s my brooch. Prince Ivan gave it to me. It flutters its wings and crawls across my bodice.”
“Does it usually make that high-pitched whining noise?”
Alexandra rolled the plans up, frowning at it. “What whining noise?”
Malloryn flourished, and a knife suddenly appeared. He eased it under the scarab, and the little device crawled onto the blade. Beneath its carapace, it appeared to be glowing. Little lines of light showed where its seams met.
“No, it doesn’t.” She crept closer, but he held up a hand to keep her at bay.
“Something about this doesn’t sit right with me.”
“It’s a brooch, Malloryn. They’re all the rage in London, Prince Ivan said.”
“London?” He looked up sharply. “How would he know that? He only arrived a week ago.”
Alexandra backed away swiftly.
“It’s too small,” Malloryn said, almost to himself. He eased the tip of his knife under the carapace of the scarab, and the whining became audible to her ears as the scarab brooch began to thrash wildly. “There cannot be explosives within it.”
“It’s just a brooch. You’re—”
A high-pitched scream echoed behind her.
Both of them spun toward the open windows.
