Would a Sceltie think those things were strange? Or would he see a Queen calling in a debt for a dead tiger as heroic in some way?
“You stay with Kieran,” she said.
Shelby whined.
“No.” She had to be firm about this.
Kieran solved the problem by snugging the puppy against his hip. “We’ll be back for her soon.”
Saetien opened the gate and went up the flagstone path to the cottage’s front door. It opened before she reached it. Butler raised a hand in greeting to Kieran.
“Will an hour do?” Kieran asked.
“It will do,” Butler replied. He stepped aside to let Saetien enter.
She wasn’t sure what she’d expected. He’d been living there for centuries, and his garden was a mess. But the front room had just enough furniture to look comfortable, and it was surprisingly tidy.
“I hire a woman from the village to come in twice a week,” Butler said in response to her unasked question. “Actually, I think it was her however-many-great-grandmother I hired originally, but this family has made their living by cooking and cleaning and doing laundry for those who couldn’t—or didn’t want to—do for themselves. When the elder among them is ready to stop working, the next one comes in with the youngest to train her.”
“So they’ve been working in this cottage for generations?”
“They have.”
And no one in that family wants to tend the garden?
She wasn’t sure why that bothered her so much, but it did. It scratched at her that Butler didn’t have a tidy garden to enjoy in the evenings.
“The kettle’s on. I’ll make you a cup of tea, and then we’ll talk.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
Butler gave her an odd smile. “It’s polite to offer it, and it’s polite to drink it. Especially when you live in a small village like Maghre on the Isle of Scelt.”
She hadn’t gone out with Eileen for visits to the neighbors, so she didn’t know if that was true, but she tucked that piece of information about social customs away in case she needed it.
When she had a mug of tea and a plate of sweet biscuits that Butler must have purchased for this visit and he had a glass of yarbarah, he said, “You want to know why, despite their feelings for each other and all the things that happened in Chaillot that bound them together, Wilhelmina and Jaenelle fell out so far, the break never healed.”
Saetien hesitated. Then she nodded. “Yes, I want to know.”
Silence. Then Butler said, “Very well. I don’t know everything, but I’ll tell you what was told to me.”
FORTY-FOUR
Wilhelmina knocked on Alexandra’s bedroom door and waited. Everyone from Chaillot had been confined to the guest rooms they’d been assigned and the common rooms that were connected to those guest rooms. No one had tried to reach her on a psychic thread or had asked about her. Not even Philip. Someone from the Hall would have told her if Philip had asked about her. They would have delivered a note, at the very least.
That was why she was here, standing outside Alexandra’s door, with one of the footmen serving as her escort. She needed to explain that she hadn’t meant to cause trouble; she just didn’t want to go with Osvald. She was afraid. She’d always been afraid of doing the wrong thing or being criticized for something she’d said. Look what had happened to Jaenelle when she’d said things the adults didn’t like.
There were moments here at the Hall when she didn’t feel afraid, when she caught a glimpse of who she might be if the people around her hadn’t smothered that girl who had her own thoughts and desires.
She was about to knock again when the door opened. Alexandra stared at her, then walked back to the bed and the trunks of clothes, leaving the door open.
Wilhelmina went in, puzzled that her grandmother hadn’t used Craft to open the door. She was more puzzled that the other woman’s psychic scent was . . . not different, exactly, but not the same.
Maybe her head was still muzzy. She’d been told that because so many compulsion spells had been used to try to control her, she might react erratically for a little while, until the spells faded completely. Because she might still be susceptible to suggestions or commands, the Healers and the Black Widows in residence had told her not to make any decisions or promises without consulting someone who would be impartial and would tell her if she was about to compromise herself.
“What are you doing?” Clearly, Alexandra was packing, but why? A Queen didn’t pack her own trunks.
“We’re leaving,” Alexandra replied, her voice full of sharp bitterness. “Going back to Chaillot. You’ve sided with that creature who masqueraded as your sister for all these years, and there’s nothing I can do now to save you from your own folly.”
“I had to leave Chaillot,” Wilhelmina said. She’d been so brave coming to Kaeleer. Hadn’t she been brave, despite being terrified? But facing Alexandra, she felt that brave girl crumble beneath the weight of her grandmother’s disapproval.
“You had to leave,” Alexandra repeated, making it sound like she’d done something filthy. “First you ran away from home, leaving us to wonder what had happened to you. Then you ran here, placing yourself under the control of the High Lord of Hell. Don’t you understand what he is, what he does?”
“I . . .” How could she say she felt safe here, protected here, when Alexandra thought the people who lived here were so terrible and dangerous? “Jaenelle trusts him.”
Alexandra laughed. Hearing it was like listening to glass break. “Jaenelle? Have you ever really seen your so-called sister? She’s a monster, Wilhelmina. She’s not even human. It’s no wonder she was so strange, so different.” Alexandra straightened and faced Wilhelmina. “Haven’t you noticed anything different about me?”
She looked and almost said no, she didn’t see anything different. Then it struck her. “You’re not wearing your Jewels.”
“The Queen of Ebon Askavi, that thing that pretended to be a child living in my house, broke me back to basic Craft because an animal was killed when you created so much fuss and drama instead of letting Osvald escort you away from the Hall. She took me to a place full of mist and stone and crushed my power as if I were nothing.”
“I—”
“You just couldn’t cooperate, could you? Osvald ended up killing an animal to avoid being attacked, and the Queen carries on as if I’d ordered him to slaughter a human boy.”
“Dejaal was trying to protect me.”
“He was trying to prevent your rescue.”
No. That wasn’t . . . Was it?
“We’re leaving this vile place. If you have any sense, you’ll come with us.” Alexandra closed her trunks. “But if you don’t come with us now, don’t come back. You’ve cost me enough, Wilhelmina. More than you’re worth.”
“I’m not supposed to decide important things right now,” she said.
“You’ll believe what they tell you but not what I tell you?”
“You’ve never believed anything I said!”
An awful silence filled the room.
“Believe what you like,” Alexandra finally said. “But before you commit yourself to what rules this Realm, demand that Jaenelle show you her true Self. See the truth of what she is. Then you’ll understand why she could do this to me—and why she might break you, too, someday.”
Wilhelmina hurried back to her room, her escort hustling to keep up with her. Alexandra’s words were sharp hooks sinking deep into her mind and heart.
Have you ever really seen your so-called sister? A monster. Not even human.
It couldn’t be true. Could it?
Why would Alexandra lie?