Up close, the knight’s face bore the map of countless battles: a scar that traced from her cheek to her brow, lines carved by sun and strain, yet there was undeniable steel in her bearing.
I extended the ribbon, placing it into Siere Marceline’s hand before turning back to the royal box with a deliberate look at my husband.
Nicolas stood slowly, his voice carrying a note of uncertainty. “The Queen has chosen.” A pause, as if he were still processing what he was preparing to announce. “Siere Marceline of Fenmire shall serve as Her Majesty’s Queensguard.” The silence stretched, taut as a bowstring.
Then, from somewhere in the commoners’ galleries, a single pair of hands clapped. Another joined, then another; the applause spread in fits and starts, never quite reaching the boxes where nobility exchanged guileful stares.
Sieur Bastian was the first of the knights to move, offering Marceline a salute that the rest slowly echoed.
Siere Marceline pressed the ribbon to her lips in solemn oath, then tucked it beneath her breastplate, over her heart.
As I climbed back to the royal box, I caught Quinn’s expression. For the smallest moment, raw understanding settled into his features. Recognition of change, perhaps; that his time as my protector was over now, and that I was no longer merely an insubordinate girl from the woods.
Chapter 36
“So, any manwho hears your voice wants to bed you?”
Alone together in the Queen’s Chamber, I decided it would be better to inform my new protector of the curse straightaway. I sat atop my bed and told her everything I thought might be necessary. And Siere Marceline, bless her, sat and listened until all was said.
“Well, that explains the silence,” said the knight, scratching her scalp. “I’ve seen curses do worse, you know. I once had a commander who turned everything he touched to ash…but the man was a brilliant strategist, so long as he kept those hands to himself. And such a skill proved useful in close quarters with the enemy. One touch, andpoof.”
I made a lazy smile. For once, someone heard the truth and simply accepted it. “Please do not feel that I only chose you because you are a woman. You showed great prowess on the field today.”
“I know.”
I laughed.
“If I may ask a few tactical questions… What about humming? Whispering? A whistle?”
“I believe any instance of my voice triggers the effects, so whispering would be a definiteno,humming seems dangerous, and whistling…actually, that’s perfectly safe, but I wouldn’t dare go around whistling to communicate. That’s sure to get me killed for being a nuisance.”
Siere Marceline weighed my words, then continued. “Have you tested it on eunuchs? Boys before their voice drops?”
“I have not ‘tested’ it on anyone.” The thought of conducting experiments on living beings greatly unsettled me. “Only two men have heard my voice: King Nicolas, and a man who tried to abduct me.”
“I see,” replied the knight. She thumbed her chin. “What about repeated exposure? Do the effects seem to get worse?”
I had to pause and reflect on that one. Early on, it seemed as if every time I talked, Nicolas writhed under his skin. But that had long-since plateaued; until this morning, his obsession had stabilized. My heart ached. “I’m not sure, Siere.”
“Please, there is no need for formality. Not from you.”
“Then…” I paused, tilting my head. No, my heartreallyached. My entire torso felt wrong. I swallowed it, whatever it was, and cleared my throat. “What should I call you? Marceline? Marcy? Celine?”
Siere Marceline’s eyes widened, distant with thought. Her voice was firm. “Not Celine.”
“Oh.”
There was a history there. I’d prodded a scar, but I wouldn’t dare press the matter.
“Marcy…” I went on, nodding. My stomach churned. “Marcy will do fi—”
I gagged, and all at once, I heaved up everything I’d eaten that day. Marcy stood abruptly and came to my side. “Your Majesty?”
Initially, a terrible sense of cosmic retribution overcame me. Poison—I’d been poisoned, but how? When? No one had behaved unusually as of late, but if one of the courtiers were to act on their agenda, the coronation would be the occasion to see it done.
Wide-eyed and sweating, I gawked at the mess. I put up a finger, waiting to see if more was to come, but that seemed to be all of it. The nausea faded until I felt completely normal.
“I need to see my parents,” I concluded, wiping my mouth on the sleeve of my gown. I’d require a change of clothes, first. “Marcy, send for Winnie, please.”
