She balked and twitched further away, heat crawling up her neck. “I amnotmooning over Aldric. I am simply…” Her mouth worked uselessly over the words that would not come. Whatwasshe doing? “Studying his technique.”
“Mmhm.”
Thinning her lips, Seraphina changed the subject. “Sir Tristan will be home in another week, won’t he?”
It had already been one week since the Duke of Coreto, the Count of Wellane, Lord Tiberius, and Sir Tristan had departed court. One week since Edmund’s betrayal.
One week since she had declared to the world that Aldric Hargrave was the true King of Drakmor.
Olivia’s gaze shuttered, her expression now unreadable. “I don’t see what Dacre has to do with anything.”
Curiosity gnawed at Seraphina, tempting her to pry for more details on just what was going on between those two. It wasn’t her place to know. If Olivia wanted to share, she would share.
…But still, she sodesperatelywanted to know.
Someone else’s—anyone else’s—drama would be a welcome distraction from her own.
Instead of sating her own curiosity, she decided to be a good friend and changed the subject. Again. “Are there any more letters?”
Olivia grunted, rifling through her satchel. “Why am I having to play secretary again? You usually do this sort of thing with ol’Percy.” Her friend shot her a knowing look. “Is he still mad at you for listening to the Crow’s advice over his?”
A quiet ache stirred just beneath Seraphina’s ribs. It had been days since her godfather had last spoken to her about anything that didn’t concern a direct matter of state. “Duchess Edith reports that she has almost brought him around. Another day or so should do the trick.”
Olivia pulled free another missive. “Just one last letter for today.” Cracking the wax seal, she skimmed its contents and snorted. “This one is from a merchant prince of the city-states. One Signore Cesare Alberti of Alberti Banking. He says he admires your ‘audacity’—his words, not mine—and that he wishes you luck ‘in the lists.’”
Seraphina made a face. “Is that truly all?”
Olivia stuffed the letter back in her satchel and cheerfully reported, “Well, he also included a voucher that you can redeem for a case of wine from the Sfarzia Vineyards next year. Assuming you survive this one, of course.”
Despite herself, Seraphina couldn’t help but exhale a humorless laugh. The sound unfurled on a puff of vapor before her. “Charming.” Her gaze wandered again, seeking out the sight of her Crow still overseeing the training across the way.
Except this time, her gaze locked with his.
Because he was already staring at her.
Seraphina’s breath hitched. Her ridiculous heart skipped a beat. She was still not accustomed to this new way Aldric had of…lookingat her. As ifhe could see no other.
As if only she existed.
Her eyes immediately lowered to the balcony railing. Self-conscious of the smoldering weight of Aldric’s gaze still lingering upon her, she wet her lips.
“And what about…what about this business with the pamphlets?” she asked Olivia under her breath in a desperate bid to distract her thoughts.
You are being ridiculous, she chided herself for not the first time as she cautiously peeked back toward her husband and found that his attention had already returned to the new recruits. Some of the tension eased from her chest, allowing her to breathe easier.
And yet a silly, little part of her wished he would look her way again.
Olivia hunched her shoulders against the cold, her arms crossing over her chest. “You mean the ones we’re sending to Drakmor or…” Her friend slipped the Queensguard standing post nearby a pointed glance. “Theotherones?”
“The other ones, of course.”
“Of course. Well, it seemsthatparticular printing press burned to the ground,” Olivia casually revealed on a murmur, sending Seraphina’s attention jolting back that way.
Oblivious, the Lothmeeran woman continued, “Along with every other printing press in Goldreach, now that I think about it, save for the very last one I serendipitously purchased right after our mystery arson’s burning spree. Terribly strange business, that. But lucky for you that I did, given thatmypress is the one printing your pretty little declarations of war we’re flying across the Straight.”
For several moments, Seraphina could only stand there, staring at her friend. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish. Finally, she managed, “Olivia…you didn’t—”
“Didn’t what?” Olivia asked, spearing her with a challenging look. “Do my job? No one was hurt, Sera. It was only a bit of wood. Some metal. Glass…”
