One woman came up to Ru, her eyes alight, and placed a trembling hand on Ru’s arm. “Miss Delara,” she said, “where is your lover? We thought you might arrive together…” She glanced sideways at a pair of women who came sidling up to join her. “It’s ever soromantic.” The trio giggled in unison.
“I don’t know where orwhomy lover is,” Ru said, glancing accusingly at Lord D’Luc. “But perhaps my lord does?”
The three ladies turned their glowing attention to Lord D’Luc, who showed no evidence of discomfort. He bowed slightly, his smile handsomely charming as ever. “Fear not,” he said, “the lovers will be reunited before long. Find a place in the throne room, now, before it fills.”
Gasping and grasping one another’s hands in breathless glee, the three women darted off through the crowds, toward the throne room.
“And what was that about?” Ru said, arms crossed.
“The court loves romance,” said the lord. “Taryel and the Keeper of His Heart… it ignites the fancy, doesn’t it?”
Ru’s throat constricted. “What exactly is this pronouncement going to involve?”
“Nothing untoward,” Lord D’Luc said airily. “A few words, that’s all. Have you prepared something?”
Ru’s stomach knotted. “The entire court is in attendance. And you’ve been conveniently hiding the fact that they all believe Taryel is my…” She bit her lip.
The lord sniffed. “Don’t worry about courtiers. Hardly people at all.”
Ru wanted to reply, but her nerves wouldn’t let her. Ever since the artifact had come into her possession, there had been far too many speeches. Couldn’t everyone leave her alone with her books? How was she supposed to accomplish anything useful in front of a crowd?
“Miss Delara!” came a bright greeting from across the hallway.
Ru turned, seeing Rosylla and Sybeth at the entrance to the throne room. Rosylla beamed, while Sybeth looked deeply uncomfortable. Both of them were dressed in starched uniforms, their buttons and helmets polished to a shine.
As Ru and Lord D’Luc moved to greet the riders, Lyr appeared out of the throng. He looked rested and well-kept, and his dark brown hair had been cropped shorter, his face clean-shaven. He looked every bit the King's Guard. Even in that crowded hallway, her nerves beginning to fray, the sight of Lyr was a wash of cool relief.
“Are you excited?” asked Rosylla, eyes shining.
Ru sucked on her bloody inner lip. “No.”
Rosylla gave her a sympathetic look. “It won’t be that bad, surely? I heard there’s going to be a surprise announcement.”
“Not a surprise if we know it’s coming,” observed Lyr.
“Oh, be quiet,” Rosylla said with great affection.
Lord D’Luc stood by, fidgeting with his cuffs. “Delara,” he said after exchanging vague niceties with the King’s Riders. “Come. We’re not going in this way. Avoiding the rabble.” He gestured lazily toward the courtiers in the throne room, which was already fit to bursting with well-dressed aristocrats.
Ru craned her neck in search of golden curls or tawny brown hair and freckles, but she couldn’t see Archie or Gwyneth in the chaos.
Lord D’Luc shot her a look. “They’ll come.”
That he had known what she was thinking set Ru further on edge.
Lyr followed dutifully behind as he, Ru, and Hugon left Rosylla and Sybeth in their wake, stationed at the throne room entrance. Lord D’Luc moved past the main throne room entrance, to a small door half-hidden by a tapestry. It would have been almost invisible if the lord hadn’t pressed it at the right point, pushing it inward to reveal a narrow passage. Lyr took up his station at the door, while Ru went on with Lord D’Luc.
The passage opened into a larger sitting room, which was outfitted much like Ru’s personal one — comfortable furniture, a roaring fire, and a tray of tea sandwiches and half-eaten pastries.
“Now,” said Lord D’Luc, turning to regard Ru with a slight frown. “Do you have any questions before this begins?”
Ru stared. “OfcourseI have questions, Hugon.”
His dimple threatened to make an appearance. “Spit them out, then.”
Just then, another figure emerged from the passage. Ru’s heart staggered at the sight of him, as if her world shuddered whenever he was near. She couldn’t help the flutter in her belly, the heat in her cheeks.
Lord D’Luc glanced sideways at Taryel. “You’re late. I was just about to brief Delara on her duties—”
