“I understand,” he said, inclining his head in acknowledgment. “Hopefully the truth about all these incidents will come to light in the investigation.”
“Yes,” she agreed faintly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He watched her go, her movements graceful even in her weariness. Her hair had come partially loose over the course of the day’s ride, and the effect was very appealing. He wondered fleetingly how it would be if he could follow her, if they were retiring to the same room, if they were truly allowed to speak privately, to be just Theo and Elowen away from the eyes of the court and the expectations of their positions.
But that wasn’t the case. And even though both Elowen and her father had assured him that the alliance was secure, he was sure they weren’t telling him everything. And he couldn’t shake the suspicion that the problems with the magic, theseries of disasters, and the unconfirmed wedding date were all connected. And this Simeon was mixed up in it in some form or another, that much was clear.
Theo strode from the entranceway, finding his quarry just outside the royal stables.
“Paulson.” He beckoned his guard to him, and the man hurried forward.
“Is all well, Your Highness? I was just checking our horses were properly cared for, and all seems in order.”
“Paulson, I have a job for you.” Theo spoke quietly and quickly, scanning the area to make sure no one could hear them. “The Torrenese royal guards have immediate security well in hand here. I want you to leave the capital and make some inquiries.”
“I don’t like to leave you, Your Highness.” Paulson sounded uneasy.
“I trust it won’t be for long,” Theo said. “None of the locations in question are too far away.” Still speaking at a murmur, he gave his instructions. “Be back as soon as you can,” he said, dismissing Paulson with a nod.
Theo’s mind was on the following day as he returned to the castle. He wasn’t needed at the tournament until the afternoon. In the morning, he would avail himself of the castle’s library for all the information he could learn about a specific aspect of magic craft.
Chapter
Twelve
Elowen slept poorly the night after the trip to the forest. The expedition hadn’t afforded much chance for her to spend real time with Theo, and the interaction they had managed hadn’t been entirely pleasant. She still stung a little over his frostiness when they’d talked about carbuncle favors. Certainly she wasn’t suddenly ready to oblige her father, as he’d hinted at when orchestrating for her to accompany Theo on the trip.
But her irritation melted away when she remembered what Theo had said to her after dinner. It had floored her that he’d chosen to share his concerns with her and ask for her opinion. It was more than Patrick had ever done. Even her father,indulgentthough he might be, wasn’t in the habit of including her in any conversations about matters affecting the kingdom.
That wasn’t the only reason the interaction took her mind off the uncertain state of her heart, however. Theo’s words made her too uneasy regarding Simeon for her to think about much else. Surely he would have no hand in whatever was happening. But some of what Theo said had been uncomfortably hard to explain away.
Elowen opted to have breakfast brought to her rooms, too tired for court drama so early in the day. She’d been foolish to imagine it would be a peaceful alternative, however, since the maid who delivered it stayed to tend to Elowen’s fire and lay out her clothes, chattering all the while. She was full of excitement over the announcement the queen had just made to the servants, that there was to be a smaller feast and ball that night, in addition to the victory feast everyone was expecting at the end of the tournament.
“I hadn’t been told that,” Elowen said, startled. “Why is Mother adding another ball?”
“Apparently Their Majesties just received word of some foreign dignitaries who’ll be passing through Torrens, and they insisted that the party break their journey in Toledda, so they can be properly hosted.”
“Who are the dignitaries?” Elowen demanded.
“I’m sure I don’t know, Your Highness,” the maid said. “Someone important, no doubt.”
She was clearly much more interested in the ball than the visitors, and understandably so. The castle staff were usually encouraged to enjoy the food remaining after feasts, and Elowen knew the maids were always excited to see the court ladies in their finery.
For her part, she just felt exhausted. More formalities, more eyes on her. She wondered fleetingly if Theo would dance with her. He would probably be obliged to, given his status and their position. She doubted he would get much enjoyment from it. He didn’t seem the type.
Deflated, she finished her food quickly, turning her mind to more immediate matters. She needed to speak to Simeon and set her doubts to rest. She knew she couldn’t ask after his whereabouts without raising eyebrows, and reluctantly concluded that her best option was to ask the chatty maidto discover where Bertrand might be. He almost always kept Simeon close by.
The maid received her mission with a look Elowen knew well, and she realized with a sinking heart that a garbled version of the request would no doubt make its way around the servants’ hall. She just hoped that Theo wouldn’t hear of it and get the wrong idea. He was always particularly frosty when Bertrand was around, and honestly she didn’t blame him. The viscount was an absolute nuisance.
The servant came back with a regretful posture.
“I wasn’t able to find out where he is, Your Highness. But someone said they saw his manservant, Simeon, making his way toward the armory, so I could try to find him and ask if he knows.”
“I can ask him,” Elowen said lightly. “I could do with a walk.”
As soon as the maid was out of sight, she hurried forward, eager to catch Simeon before he left the general area described. With any luck, he was retrieving something of Bertrand’s, ready for the tournament events that afternoon, meaning he probably wasn’t currently accompanying the viscount.
She was almost to the armory, having just passed the library door, when good fortune found her. Simeon appeared around a corner ahead, his arms full of Bertrand’s chainmail.
