“She told me to go home and think about my place in her court. Then a moon ago, I received orders to travel to Drantar.”
Which confirmed Anais’ supposition that Satryani had sent the letters before she knew about the wedding.
Anais accepted a second bowl of steaming soup, as well as her knife. The blade, she tucked into her boot. “And your son?”
“If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll be at home. My Queen will forget about him soon.”
In Queen Yelena’s place, Anais wouldn't forget. Any of her nobles threatening to take away a valuable commodity would remain high on her list of people to watch. None of her nobles could be permitted to grow a spine. She'd have one of her Escorts kidnap the son and hold him until the duchess profusely and publicly apologized. The only difference was, Anais wouldn't hurt the boy.
Unless she was forced to. Nineteen wasn't a child anymore.
How much were they alike?
The duchess' problems weren't hers.
Anais finished her dinner and gave her bowl to Jerome. She gathered herself to her feet. “Perhaps I’ll let you live just to spite Yelena. But not if you keep irritating me. Stop sending your maid with idiotic requests, and be glad we do not ride through the night.”
The lady sneered. “You brought me with you for a reason. I don't think you'll kill me yet.”
“That's true.” Anais smiled lazily. “Perhaps I was saving you from my court. Saving you for myself.”
Without shifting her gaze, she noted Vern standing a few feet behind the lady. The assassin always did have wonderful timing.
The Queen flicked her wrist. A small dagger thunked into the wood, pinning the lady’s sleeve to the log. At the same time, Vern snapped out his whip. Leather coiled around Isabel’s neck. Her hands shot up, grasping at it, mouth gaping open, and eyes bright with fear.
Anais slowly closed the distance between them. “We are not at court, and I have no time for courtly games. I've had other priorities on my mind these last few days, but if you insist on making yourself a nuisance, then you have my attention, my lady.”
She plucked the throwing dagger and drew the tip of it up the woman's trembling arm. “Maybe I just wanted a toy to play with when I get bored. Or a bargaining chip for slavers after we cross the border. How many of them would like to get their hands on the very lady who purchases their stock? Do you run an amiable business, Isabel, or do you bicker to the last copper chip? I'd bet it's the latter.”
Her dagger pricked the lady's fingers until they stopped trying to pry off the whip. The Queen stepped back to watch her choke for a moment longer. Sheathing her dagger, she added, “Put on a brave face if it makes you feel better. But make no mistake, you are extremely dispensable, and you should be grateful for each breath in your lungs.”
Turning away, she absently waved her claws. A whip whispered as it uncoiled, and the lady gasped for air. “I’m a… a duchess. You can’t… My Queen will…”
Anais chuckled humorlessly. “Can’t I? And who here will stop me?”
Here, or anywhere. With the strongest army in the land, the Queen of Drantar was invincible.
Chapter 17
Anais
Travel was peaceful for a week.
They found Castien's trail. He had used his bracers to demand supplies and a change of mount at castles and forts. Nobles who had been at court this last year recognized him. Few dared question an Escort, even one riding alone.
The first test of Satryani’s power was the nobles’ awareness of their Queen’s travels. Messengers were officially a branch of the military. If Satryani had already wrested control of the military from Trishve, then the Queen’s steward wouldn’t refuse the command to return.
Anais was mildly disappointed each time Vern reported the nobles’ surprise at his presence at their doorstep.
Vern asked questions. How had the Escort appeared? What, exactly, had he said? With each report, he sounded more and more suspicious. Castien had seemed normal. Arrogant, cold, perhaps too curt, but the nobles all agreed he had been the same man they'd seen at court.
As they progressed south, the castle’s ladies and lords mentioned that he seemed tired. He was also gaining distance – ten days ahead of them, now. Anais pushed their horses faster. Duchess Isabel whined, though quieter.
By night, Pelios continued helping the servant girl. The guards let Zara join them hunting. The lady herself was tense at meals. To be fair, she looked somewhat haggard. Anyone unusedto long days on the road and short nights on the hard ground would be exhausted by the pace Anais demanded. Even the army marched slower. Anais was tired, as well, but how much worse was Castien faring?
The duchess finally collapsed a day away from the border. Her maid shouted as the lady swayed and nearly tumbled from her horse. A guard veered closer to catch her.
The group halted. A bit of water revived the woman. Her lips twitched as the Queen approached. “If you intend… to kill me… through fatigue, congratulations. I think you're succeeding.”
