Clovis quite lost himself when she returned to her rooms, squawking with fright.
He'd flapped about, scolding Rosalyne about her rash and irresponsible actions, «selfishly endangering their tenuous position.»
The coals of her anger were not yet so cold that the breeze of indignation did not set them to flame again. «I should have allowed this to pass?»
«Yes!» His pointed face flushed with intensity. He pushed back his hair, darkened with grime . «Does her little highness think they won't just kill us all?»
«And what of the king's vision — your Purpose?»
Rosalyne twitched. The gods had abandoned her, why shouldn't she abandon them?
Her arms trembled as she marched past Clovis into her bed chamber. «I asked the council for your clemency. They know my servants took no part in my decision.»
«Oh, thank the gods,» he called from the other room, «I feel so much better.»
She stuck her head back out through the curtain that blocked the doorway. «If we were in court, my pater would have your tongue.»
Clovis laughed — wheezed — swearing as he clutched his sides, «Has her highness forgotten? She cannot have the king attend to her bloody work anymore.»
He scoffed, «Don't look so petulant — not everyone was too arrogant to see what she was doing... like Lord Perdue, Vecina, Normint, Orley, Taey... oh gods and Lord Cousind.»
He chuckled and removed his pince-nez, purple stains sharp under his eyes. «I was new to court then, but the look in her highness' eyes... I know Influence when I see it.»
Clovis walked over to the cushions. Like a marionette with cut strings, he slumped on the mismatched pillows. He pinched the bridge of his nose. «Never knew why you destroyed them — just that they crossed you.»
He hunched over, propping himself up on his knees, and used his linen sleeve to clean the little rounds of glass. «I should have known this would happen. Rule of survival in Aertisian court: never piss off the king or his jaquelle.»
She closed the distance between them and stepped down into the fire pit. She had to admit to herself that she wanted to strike him; threaten him if he ever questioned her again; make him fear her more than any other fate.
Because she felt his anxiety acutely and it matched hers. He was a scribe, a lord's son, not a soldier, not royalty; not given by vow or by birth to the service of the people. He was scared, not wrong.
He looked up, not standing for her presence. «What?»
She turned, pulling her hair over her shoulder to expose the laces of her gown. «Help me out of this dress.»
Clovis stood, pulling the ribbons out of the loops with deft fingers. She thanked him and left him in the middle of the pit.
«What is she going to do?» he called after her, hope curling the end of his question.
«Sleep.»
He groaned and she heard him collapse back down next to the fire to bemoan his life — and however much there was left of it.
§
Rosalyne did not sleep but lay awake, waiting for the footsteps of warriors coming to throw her into the dungeon or disembowel her. The moon rose higher into the sky but still no one came.
She could only feel Clovis out in the ante-chamber, sleeping fretfully next to the fire. Beyond that, Yared remained alert at the door, though he too was becoming tired.
YOU ARE READING
The Jack of Hearts (House of Cards Book 1)
FantasySince the reign of her grandfather, the Aertisians have been at war with the United Clans of the Cluvani. But when her father's prophecy declares that the Jaquelle of Aertisia will bear the heir to the Cluvani throne, her destiny is transformed. Yea...
