Across from us, Quinn was cross-legged on the floor. He’d revealed a small arsenal of outrageous expressions to the baby, each earning a toothless grin and those faint beginnings to her first laughs. Nicolas was in another meeting, taxed each day by the burdens of the crown, while I faced a welcome reprieve from matters of state. The viscount seized every possible moment to spend time with Juliana, only departing when Nicolas was at last freed from his duties.
Things were strained between them, but neither spoke to me of any argument. As good at reading one another as they often were, I had to wonder if they’d exchanged further blows through their minds.
I set Juliana down on her stomach and she raised her head like a garden snake. Quinn mirrored her, quietly mimicking the little growls she made.
Even when he contorted his face like a big, ugly gargoyle’s, the fact that he was doing so in service of my daughter made him devastating to behold. I had to look away.
“Nicolas will kill you if she laughs for you before him,”I commented.
Quinn beamed. “Perhaps your husband should try being funnier.”
Even in the rare moments where both men stood together, Juliana’s attention fixed on Quinn. I thought it might be his eyebrows providing an interesting contrast; at least, that was the explanationI served to Nicolas. Never mind that Quinn saw her more, and I couldn’t bring myself to make him go away.
Nicolas did spend a lot of time with her, but she slept through much of it. She was mercifully restful at night, an easy baby and a blessing for us as new parents. Winnie said it meant the next one would be difficult, but that was a woe for another day.
Juliana’s arms gave out and her face planted softly onto the carpet. She whimpered and I moved to help her, but Quinn was already there, gently turning her onto her back. He rolled over with her. “There we are, little princess. The world is much better from this angle, isn’t it?”
He wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was watching me, devoid of his earlier playfulness. That familiar ache settled into his eyes, an entanglement of longing and loss. I wondered what he saw reflected in my own gaze.
The door burst open, pulling us both from the moment. Winnie stood in the threshold, chest heaving, and tried to speak through stolen breaths. Behind her, Marcy pushed off from the wall, readying herself for action. “Your Majesty, my lord! The courtyard—you must come at once.”
“Hello, Winnie,” Quinn dismissed, rising slowly to his feet while I gathered Juliana.
Winnie whacked him on the arm. “Now isnotthe time. It’s the Banewights.”
I stiffened. Not another word was needed to get me out of the door; I left, veering down the corridor toward the stairs. Quinn followed as Winnie explained what was happening, the lot of us followed by my queensguard.
“Angharad spun some tale to Sahra a few months ago, some hogwash about Florence using dark magic to bind her to a chair,” Winnie said, descending alongside me. “Nothing ever came of that, so she went to Taran. He’s confronted Florence outside.”
Spring was only a couple of short weeks away, but it was rather temperate already, several flowers blooming prematurely in the gardens. Likely Florence had gone out to look for specimens after yesterday’s rains.
“Alana, be careful,” Quinn urged, coming around to walk ahead of us. “Let me speak on your behalf. Don’t implicate yourself.”
I bit my lip and nodded, shifting the baby on my shoulder. I wasn’t worried about myself, though; I was worried for Florence. The Banewights only stuck around for so long because they sensed something was off. This was their chance to prove there was a witch underfoot, to root her out in front of the courtiers.
Florence once told me she’d killed before. If Taran backed her into a corner, would she do it again? Not with magic; the Banewights were protected. What would that say about me? A queen with a killer-in-waiting…
No, I couldn’t think about myself now. Not with my mentor’s life on the line.
We found them surrounded by an audience. Florence maintained her dignity, her head slightly inclined toward Taran as she held an empty basket in her arms, but I knew burning indignation when I saw it.
Winnie whispered that she would take Juliana off my hands. I agreed, passing the baby along. She disappeared back into the palace.
“Banewight!” Quinn called, coming into the center of the commotion. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Maybe nothing.” Taran’s eyes were trained on Florence. “I’m only addressing a peculiar rumor, Viscount. You know better than to interlope.”
Angharad stood nearby, watching the confrontation with disgust. She’d see Florence killed, and for what? If Florence hadn’t bound her to that couch, I might have sent her to the dungeons.
I still hadn’t addressed her slight that day; hopefully I wouldn’t regret my delay.
Quinn hesitated. “I’m interrupting because this rumor was spread by a damned harpy.” Angharad startled, whipping her head to him. “She was scorned by Florence and wants to punish her for it… But to accuse her of witchcraft, knowing it could get her killed—?!”
“She’s only in danger if it’s true.” Taran narrowed his eyes. “What’s in the basket, Lady Florence?”
“Morels.” Florence opened the lid to show them off. “They’re good for inflammation, and damned delicious.”
Taran chuckled.My skin crawled like it was covered in mites. “I have the Doonles searching your chambers. What do you suppose they’ll find?”
