But she never planned for theworstof the worst.
“Idohave faith,” Olivia contradicted. “I have plenty of faith. But just because you hope for clear skies doesn’t mean you shouldn’t also take your cloak with you just in case it rains.”
Seraphina chewed over that for a time, clearly mulling it over. Because her friendknewshe was right. She always was, of course, but Seraphina didn’t always like to admit it.
At last, the queen murmured, “If there is more than one assailant, I will retrieve the paper packet of poison from my sleeve, rip it open—”
Olivia opened her mouth, ready to interject an important point.
But Seraphina shot her a knowing look and hastily added, “And—being very careful not to inhale it myself or let it get into my eyes—fling it at my enemies before then retreating to the ridge.”
“Bravo,” Olivia drawled, bobbing her head, satisfied. “Well done.”
Her plan didn’t account for archers, only a close-quarters confrontation. But with any luck, there wouldn’t be any archers in range. She had tried to choose a meeting place on the border between Coreto’s lands and the farms surrounding Goldreach free from too much brush or cover where an ambush could be laid.
There was just the ridge, but that was on their side.
They would have the high ground.
And besides, she had forced Seraphina to wear chainmail beneath her gown.
“Olivia!” Duke Percy called to her.
With a lackadaisical salute to the queen, she reined in her horse and fell back by several paces to fall in line with the Umberlys. Rogue padded along beside the Lord Chancellor’s mount, his tongue lolling. The varhound was probably enjoying the cold.
She envied him his thick fur.
“What was that about?” Percy asked, his tone brittle with poorly veiled concern. Though nearly forty years her senior, the man looked far more at ease atop his horse than she felt atop hers. His eyes were bright behind his spectacles. Alert. He looked just as warm as his varhound beneath the heavy dire bear cloak draped about his thin shoulders.
Olivia dipped a nod to Duchess Edith, who met her silent greeting with a pinched smile, before she shrugged for Percy and hunched her shoulders against the biting wind. “Just the usual,”she muttered. “She thinks I’m worrying too much. I think she’s worrying not enough. But everything’s fine.”
The older man’s lips twitched—not into a smile, but a grimace. “And here I was hoping you had nearly convinced her to abandon this fool’s errand.”
Olivia barked out a laugh, earning another backward glance from Sir Dacre. Their eyes locked for the briefest of moments. She looked away. “You underestimate how much she actually listens to me.”
From up ahead, Seraphina called out, “I can hear you, you know!”
“Good!” Olivia called back, a grin quirking her lips.
Nudging his horse closer until his leg nearly bumped against hers, Duke Percy dropped his voice to whisper, “Protect her, Olivia.” The man’s voice grew thick as something rather like frustration contorted his features for a moment. “There will be civil war if she dies today. We might as well set all Elmoria ablaze and be done with it.”
Olivia’s amusement over Seraphina’s shout died in an instant. Grim determination swept in to take its place. “I always have protected her, Percy,” she exhaled, her attention drifting back toward the queen. Her best friend. The closest thing she had ever had to a sister.
The girl who had brought her along to every Wintertide celebrated in Varoa with the Umberlys even though she was a commoner. The princess who had loved her as a friend even though she was nothing more than a kitchen rat born out of wedlock. Thequeen who had raised her to Spymaster despite knowing full well about her disability.
As if sensing her gaze upon her, Seraphina glanced over her shoulder. Their eyes met. Her friend offered up a small smile—radiant as her smiles always were. But that was Sera: a woman woven from sunlight and hope.
“Stop whispering about me and come keep me company instead,” the queen invited, beckoning her closer with a wave of her hand.
Shooting back another sip of her cordial, letting her Pain ebb away a little bit more on a rosy wave of medicinal herbs, Olivia clipped her flask back to her belt and leveled her gaze at Percy.
To him alone, she promised, “I always will.”
Chapter thirty-eight
Seraphina
The cold nipped at her bare fingers just as she and Olivia crested the ridge on horseback, leaving her gazing down into the valley below. A day of riding, of fretting, and finally, the moment had arrived.
