Of course, I hadn’t known what my friend meant by that statement.
I understand now.
Rygard’s queen may appear docile, but she is a Redgrave. She is a survivor. And when she slides her gaze back to me, I send her a knowing little grin and the faintest incline of my head. She answers back with a wink, and although we didn’t say a word, we had an entire conversation.
She just became my greatest ally.
ChapterSeventeen
“Did my brother truly hold you captive?”
Startled by the whisper, I blink against the glare of the midday sun. My hand stills on the flower’s stem I’m about to pluck. I shield my eyes with the other and peek between dirty fingers to see Eleanor standing over me. My breath catches when I glance around the garden and realize we’re as alone as we can be. Our guards linger a few yards away, as do her five vexing ladies-in-waiting. John appointed those arrogant noble women to follow his young wife wherever.
No doubt they report back to him.
Despite the cold, I needed a reprieve from the keep’s oppressive gloom and the constant babbling of the courtiers. And thank goodness I did. We might not have had this precious—and fleeting—somewhat private moment if I hadn’t.
“No, Eleanor, he did not,” I answer so softly the words are nearly lost on the breeze.
“I never believed that nonsense.” Eleanor nervously chews on her bottom lip. Her eyes remind me of the violent waters of the Lennox Sea. “Is he…? I miss him, Rapunzel.”
“He misses you as well.” It takes everything I have not to wrap this tiny woman in my arms and share in her misery. “And he loves you very much.”
Her scheming ladies and our guards trail us. Behind them is Eleanor’s guard, with mine taking the rear as we stroll Newkirk’s eastern garden.
With an exaggerated huff, Eleanor stops walking and spins to glare at the harpies behind us. In a show of frustration, she tosses her hands in the air. “This is absurd. I require a moment of peace. Rapunzel and I are walking the garden, not headed into battle. Shoo, all of you. You,” she motions to the ladies. “Go gather fresh flowers for the hall and you,” she gestures to our guards. “I can hardly hear myself think, much less carry on a conversation with all the stomping behind us. You couldn’t sneak up on a sleeping infant making all that noise. Keep back so I may have a proper chat with Rapunzel and acquaint myself with our lovely lost princess.” Then to me, in a murmur, “That she should get them to leave us alone for a bit.”
My jaw hangs agape, and I have to snap it closed. “Bravo, Your Highness,” I murmur.
“I’m not as docile as I make them believe,” she whispers.
No, she’s certainly not.
After all, Eleanor is a Redgrave. After getting to know one very well, I can confidently say they have fire in their blood.
The ladies don’t have to be told twice. They scurry off to do their queen’s bidding. As for the guards, well, they step back a few paces, but they do it reluctantly. But at least they do it, leaving us to speak more privately.
Eleanor’s lashes glisten with unshed tears. “Walk with me, Rapunzel.”
She links her arm with mine and keeps her voice low enough that her words cannot drift to the listening ears behind us. “Please tell me, as no one else here speaks to me. Did he do that blasphemous thing they claim?”
I want to lie to her. Lord knows I do, but time works against us, leaving no room to pad the truth. “He gave up his soul for the strength and speed to kill John.” She takes a moment to absorb this, but with a stern nod, she squares her shoulders and pulls her composure around herself like a shield. “But there’s hope for him. I can’t tell you how I know this, but you must trust me. Please, trust me. Can you do that?”
“When we were children, I was always getting myself into mischief. Quinn saved me every time.” She tilts her head to close her eyes and lets the midday sun bathe her face. “I suppose this is his way of saving me now.” She lowers her chin and opens her eyes. She stares straight ahead, anguished as if watching a terrible scene play out only she sees. “He killed our father. The day Stephan came to take me away to court. Quinn tried to stop him, but Stephan was the superior swordsman back then. It didn’t help that our father interfered. He sided with Stephan, of course, and when Quinn had his back to him, our father… He stuck him with a blade. What father does that, Rapunzel?”Mine, but I keep that thought tucked inside my mind. “In the end, Quinn’s fight was for naught. As Stephan dragged me out, literally kicking and screaming, the last thing I saw was Quinn slitting our father’s throat. The rumors began about him losing his soul soon after.” Her eyes glisten with raw guilt, which cuts me to the quick. “It’s my fault. All of this.”
“No, Eleanor, that’s not true,” I rasp. “It’s John’s fault. Stephan’s fault. Your father’s fault.” Oh, God, Quinn killed his father. That must fester on his conscience. “Everything Quinn did, he did because he loves you. Because he believed it was the right thing to do. All that he does now is for you. For us. For Rygard.”
Eleanor watches me through her tears, her perceptive gaze searching. “You love him.”
No need to deny it. “I do. I love him, Eleanor, and I will do everything I can to keep him alive.”
And help him get his soul back.
Eleanor wipes the stray tears that slip down her reddened cheeks and recomposes herself. She reminds me of a perfect flower petal. Fragile, yet able to withstand a storm. “I didn’t want to believe you’d be loyal tohim.”
Him, of course, being John.
“That man will not be king for much longer. I swear this to you.”
