I hurry towards the door, but I can hear voices now – the sound of a key in the lock – in a panic I wedge myself into the alcove next to the bookcase as the door opens.
It’s a youngish man, one of Siegfried’s servants, I guess. I’m trying not to breathe, but my heart is thumping so hard it’s difficult not to gasp for air. The man has his back to me; he sits at the desk, gets out some paper and a pen and begins writing. All I can do is wait.
The clock has just chimed away another quarter of an hour when the man gets up and disappears from view for a moment. My muscles are cramping, but I don’t dare move. There’s a knock at the door; the man – a letter in his hand – opens it, and I hear his voice: ‘Take this to L’Ammergeia. Quick as you can; if you can catch up with his lordship, I expect he’ll make it worth your while.’ He must be talking to one of the pages who live at the Citadel – young, lower-ranking nobles who are employed as a messenger service. Perhaps, now the letter is written and handed over, the servant will leave.
He doesn’t. Instead, he stays in the room and starts tidying. I begin to feel faint; there’s a pile of books on a table nearby, and if he decides to replace them in the bookcase –
Another knock at the door. It opens, and a housemaid walks in, followed by some sort of workman. The maid drops a curtsy. ‘We’re to see about the loose floorboard in His Lordship’s bedroom.’ She nods to the workman and they move towards the door in the corner, as Siegfried’s servant follows them and begins to dispute their right to carry out the work …
All three of them enter the bedroom, and the door to the corridor is standing open –
Walk, not run – act as if you belong here … To my relief, the corridor is empty. I make it back to my rooms – just – before I throw up.
Letya looks after me. She assumes it must have been something I ate, puts me to bed and goes to see my cousins, to tell them I will not be joining them for supper. My failed attempt has exhausted me. I fall asleep with Siegfried’s key tucked underneath my pillow.
The next morning, after Letya has brought my breakfast, I send her back to the guest master. The keys are all so similar – just tiny variations in the arrangement of the teeth – that I am reasonably confident the old man will not notice my deceit. The key Letya gives him is not the key to Siegfried’s apartment, but one of the spare keys to my own quarters.
I’m planning to make a second attempt to search Siegfried’s rooms this afternoon, but anxiety is making my head ache. Anxiety, mingled with unreasonable disappointment that Lucien has not yet returned. My father’s note-taking was meticulous but extensive; at his death, there were notebooks everywhere, strewn across tables, chairs, the floor. I had them gathered up and locked into bookcases, but in no particular order. It’s hardly surprising if Lucien is struggling to find the recipe.
In an effort to clear my head, Letya and I go riding before lunch. The fresh air does me good. Still, I can feel my knees trembling beneath my long skirts as I head back to the north wing. I’m almost at Siegfried’s apartment when the door opens and Siegfried himself emerges.
The shock nearly fells me. ‘My lord …’
‘Aderyn.’ He smiles, but there’s a faint hint of suspicion in his eyes. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘My waiting woman told me she’d heard you had returned. And I’ve missed you …’ The ease with which I lie disgusts me; another symptom of the Citadel’s corrupting influence perhaps. Still, my words appear to reassure Siegfried.
‘Of course you have. Come.’ He turns back into his room. ‘I have a few moments.’ With the door shut, I’m scared that he might try to kiss me again. But instead he takes my hand and leads me to a sofa as he starts talking about our future at the Citadel. How, once he is king, he will have me moved to an apartment next to his own with an inter-connecting door. How we will explore Olorys and Atratys together. Idle conversation, seemingly. But I am beginning to think that, with Siegfried, every sentence – every word – should be weighed for double meaning.
He seems a little distracted and sends me away again before long. I return to my own apartment, the stolen key still in my pocket, wondering what I can do to be certain of gaining undisturbed access to his rooms. I’ve considered and rejected the idea of bribing one of Siegfried’s servants, when I notice a letter that has been left on the sideboard. The wax disc sealing the folded paper is marked with the royal coat of arms – it’s from the queen.
A twinge of excitement bubbles up beneath my ribs as I break the seal. Perhaps she has found out about Siegfried. Perhaps the wedding is cancelled …
I read the letter through twice as my excitement fades into doubt. The contents inform me that three members of Convocation were arrested yesterday – was that why the castle bell was being rung? These nobles, one each from the Dominions of Lancorphys, Dacia and Fenian, have been accused of high treason against the crown. The trial is tomorrow evening. And I am summoned, since I am a Protector, to play the role of judge.
Nothing to do with the wedding. Nothing, on the face of it, to do with Siegfried, though I seem to see his shadow everywhere.
I wish Lucien were here.
Thirteen
But the wishing does not help. The best part of another morning wears away, and Lucien does not come. Instead, I go in search of Aron.
I find him – eventually – in the formal gardens. He is sitting on a bench with a small knife in his hand, carving his initials into the trunk of a beech tree.
‘That seems needlessly destructive,’ I observe.
‘That comment seems needlessly antagonistic,’ he replies, ‘since I assume you want something.’
I sit down next to him. ‘I’m sorry. Perhaps I’m just here to enjoy your company.’
‘Really?’ Aron quirks an eyebrow, still digging away at the bark of the tree.
‘Well … that could be why I’m here. I do like you, strange as that may seem. But as it happens, I also need your help.’
He laughs and puts the knife down. ‘I am at your disposal, cousin.’
‘It’s about this trial.’
The smile drops from his face. ‘I don’t know any of the accused well, but I pity them. Their families will be left with nothing once they are convicted. Less than nothing.’
‘You speak as if they’ve already been found guilty.’
‘Innocent or guilty, it doesn’t matter. Clearly they are perceived as a threat to the throne; therefore they will be swept away. In a wing-beat. Despite what you may have read, Cygnus I claimed the crown as much with guile as with might. And for the last five generations we’ve held on to it in the same way.’ He glances up at the Citadel. ‘I wonder if this is my father’s doing? Perhaps he is losing his mind …’
‘But I’m supposed to be a judge. That implies a choice.’
Aron picks up the knife – tosses it into the air, blade flashing – catches it again. ‘You would think that. But your judgement, in this case, will likely only be required to determine the severity of their punishment.’ He frowns. ‘Why are you asking me about this? Have you and Lucien had another fight?’