Page 55 of The Dead Queen

Nearby, her ladies giggle prettily, the sound like delicate bells. I can practically see their ears straining to hear my response.

So, no mention of the broken engagement. Father must not have told anyone. News like that would’ve spread faster than the pox. Perhaps he’s planning to force me into this marriage. It won’t work.

I hold up my basket of autumn roses. “For my late mother,” I say, with just a hint of sadness.

Elena’s perfect composure slips, but just for an instant. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize …”

“That I was making the last bouquet of the season for my mother’s grave?” I give her a pitying smile. “No, you couldn’t have known.” I watch her reaction as I add, “She died in childbirth, you know. Doing her duty to give the king an heir.” I snip the head of another rose, then straighten to look Elena in the eyes. “Me.”

Her face pales slightly. “I hear she was an exceptional woman. As was your grandmother.” She rubs her hand over her distended belly. “You remind me of her, actually.”

Her kindness takes me by surprise, especially after my cruelty. My hand slips, pricking my finger on a thorn. A drop of blood blooms bright on my skin. I wipe it away with my thumb.

“I’m nothing like my grandmother.” I snip more blooms. “Everyone adored her.”

“Do you know why?”

When I look at Elena, there’s an openness to her face that I didn’t expect. I fear a trap. After all, I’m so used to them here in my father’s court. I’m primed for trickery.

“She was kind,” I say. Simple, yet truthful.

Elena smiles faintly, then takes a step closer to me. Her whisper flutters against my ear. “She wasn’t kind, Sienna. She was strong. She was strong for our people. Your people.” She takes a step back, her placid smile hiding whatever intention she had in telling me this.

“You might be more like her than you know.” Elena curtsies, her silver-blond hair glinting in the sunlight. “I will leave you to your mourning, Your Highness. We keep the late queen and her mother in our thoughts.”

All I can do is nod as I watch her glide away to her crowd of fluttering maidens. They send curious glances over their shoulders as they head toward the topiary garden. A giant green hare and fox watch over them as they pass.

There must be some reason the king’s mistress broke decorum to speak to me about my grandmother, but I can’t discern what. Is she trying to unnerve me? Psychological torture isn’t above my father’s purview. Could it be her specialty as well? Maybe the sweet, smiling mistress is not what she initially seems.

At least I accomplished one mission this morning. If anyone sees me visit the cemetery later, no one will question it. That is, if I can ever lose these infernal copper tails.

A guard eyes me from behind the trickling fountain several yards away.

I spend an hour walking the perimeter of the gardens, trying to come up with a plan. All around me, twisted stems reach up from the ground, their tips dead-headed by gardeners unwilling to permit the decaying flowers to sit proudly upon a throne. It’s a silly way to feel about flowers, but I pity them. Peonies, roses, chrysanthemums, and dahlias—all with lives cut short because they don’t meet the expectations of perfectionists and masochists.

At the edge of the royal gardens, the labyrinth’s shaded entrance catches my eye. In an instant, a plan forms. It’s so foolhardy, it just might work. I discreetly scan my tails. The closest one is still several yards away. I maneuver through the garden to put as many obstacles as possible between us. He doesn’t appear to notice.

This may be my only shot. I make a sudden turn for the labyrinth. Before they even notice, I’m inside, the yellowing hedges tall enough to hide me. The second I round the first corner, I run. It only takes a moment for the guards to realize where I’ve gone, but the twists and turns of the labyrinth conceal me. The guards’ armor clanks wildly behind me.

I skid to a halt in front of the labyrinth’s many exits and make a quick decision. If I leave now, I’ll never get far enough to escape to the cemetery unseen. Instead, I grab a handful of flowers from my basket and toss them out the exit, then run deeper into the labyrinth. At my first opportunity, I tuck myself behind the first statue I see, a mournful maiden draped in stone silks. My heart pounds in my chest so fiercely I might pass out. I focus on quiet, slow breaths as their steps grow closer.

Suddenly, a guard yells. “This way! The southern exit!”

I listen as their armor clanks further and further into the distance. The labyrinth grows quiet. Not only have I lost the tails, but they’re heading in the opposite direction from the cemetery. It’ll take them hours to catch up with me. By then, I’ll have rendezvoused with the Wolf. With any luck, I’ll be even closer to finding out the truth.

As I move to leave, a figure darts past the stone maiden’s sanctuary, heading deeper into the labyrinth. I peer out into the passage beyond, just in time to get a better glimpse. It’s a woman wearing a voluminous cloak, her hood pulled low over her face. Just as she rounds a corner, a gust of wind blows her cloak open, exposing a flash of copper fabric stretched taut over a swollen belly. My breath catches.

It’s Elena.

Her presence in the gardens isn’t what’s odd. It’s her solitude. No woman carrying the king’s child should wander the grounds alone. And I highly doubt she outran her tails the way I just did.

Curiosity takes over. I abandon my plan and plunge deeper into the labyrinth. Its walls seem to close in around me. Elena has vanished. I hold my breath to listen. To my right, there’s a whisper of gravel and hurried footsteps. I turn to follow her, keeping my steps as light as I can, pausing to listen at each crossroad. Just when I think I’ve lost her, I hear a breathless whisper.

“Now is not the time to second-guess anything. We’re too far along to turn back now.”

It’s a man. A shiver of horror runs down my spine. I know that voice. It’s Commander Malen.

Then, Elena. “But what if he doesn’t look like him?”