‘Merchants to the back!’ Harlan shouted. ‘Archers to the front!’
Astin looked to the men with him. ‘Fall back.’
Chapter 40
It was a strange thing to wash the corpse of the man she was supposed to marry, but Lyndal did it to help the woman who had tried to help everyone else. Yes, she had made mistakes along the way—they all had. The king’s mistakes had cost him his life.
The queen mother brought her son’s hands together, laying them one on top of the other, then straightened. The maid picked up the basin of dirty water and left the room, leaving the two women alone.
‘Prince Becket is going to take some convincing to return to this place,’ Fayre said. ‘History always depicts second-born sons as resentful of their position in the family. My youngest has always been grateful for the fact.’
‘I’m sure you’ll help him transition.’
Fayre met her gaze. ‘I suppose I shall have to go about finding him a suitable wife.’ She lifted one eyebrow in question.
Lyndal smiled. ‘Suitablebeing the key word there. I imagine he’ll be free to select a wife of his choosing.’
‘As long as I approve.’
Lyndal bit back a smile. ‘Of course.’
The queen mother pushed a loose strand of hair off her tired face. ‘You would have made a wonderful queen. However, I must be content with a wonderful friend instead.’
‘Don’t forget superb chess opponent.’
Fayre’s eyes creased at the corners.
A confession sat on the tip of Lyndal’s tongue, one she was not sure she could live with. ‘There’s something you should know.’
The queen mother looked in her direction, waiting.
‘I was with King Borin before he died. Some heated words were exchanged.’ She swallowed repeatedly. ‘Iopened the courtyard doors. I was the one who let the merchants into the castle, knowing they were coming for him.’ It was so wrong to say those words to his grieving mother.
Queen Fayre was still and quiet for a moment. Then, wandering over to the table by the window, she picked up the arrow sitting on it and turned it in her hands.
‘He threatened my life,’ Lyndal continued. ‘But to stand here and tell you it was an act of self-defence would be a lie. I think I would have done it anyway.’
Fayre was quiet for the longest time as she ran her finger repeatedly over the fletching on the arrow. ‘Do you know what this is?’
Lyndal’s brow creased at her response. ‘It’s an arrow.’
‘Not any arrow. It is the arrow that killed my husband. Borin was quite determined to find his killer, as you well know.’
The merchants had been locked up and starved as a result. It was not something she would soon forget. ‘Grief is a strange beast.’
Fayre nodded thoughtfully. ‘I understand why you did it, why you opened that door. Sometimes we queens have to make difficult decisions for the greater good.’
Lyndal looked at the ground. ‘Well, I’m no queen.’
‘No, but hopefully I taught you to think like one.’ She paused, eyebrows drawn tightly together as if pained by whatever memory she was reliving. ‘I had to be a queen, not a wife, that day.’
Lyndal was lost. ‘What day?’
Fayre met her eyes. ‘The day I ordered my husband’s assassination.’
At first Lyndal thought she had misheard, but then the queen continued.
‘I remember sealing that letter and handing it to the messenger with a trembling hand. I was certain he knew what was written inside.’
