The idea of allying with Lestara about anything turned his stomach, but James could not deny that the alliance with Cardiff hung in the balance. Especially given that there was no longer the threat of Amarid to serve as a mutual enemy. “Do you love him?”
Lestara gave a slow blink. “Every man in my life has used me to achieve his own ends. Treated me callously and cruelly. William is the only one who has shown me kindness. The only one who has cared for me. For that, I will be a loyal wife to him, but the only true love I’ll ever feel is for the son in my belly.”
She smoothed a hand over her stomach, and James had no doubt that if there wasn’t a child inside her yet, one would be soon. It was Lestara’s best way to secure her position. “Congratulations.” The words came out from beneath his teeth.
She inclined her head. “Our positions are tenuous, cousin. We must prove our worth if we are to remain where we are.”
Before he could answer, the sounds of hooves clattering up the drive filtered through the door, followed by a shout of, “Where is the major general?”
“Prove your loyalty to William. Hunt Ahnna down and kill her,” Lestara whispered. “Everything depends on it.”
“What’s going on?”
They both jumped at Alexandra’s voice, and James didn’t miss the panic that rose on Lestara’s face. She dropped into a low curtsy for Alexandra, seeming to forget herself in the other woman’s presence. “Your Grace.”
“Get yourself to bed, girl,” Alexandra snapped.
Without another word, Lestara raced to the stairs and took them two at a time, her long hair floating behind her as she disappeared from sight.
Alexandra pressed a hand to her side with a wince, then met James’s gaze. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know.” James exhaled a steadying breath and then opened the door. A pair of soldiers stood outside, both soaked to the bone. “Do you have an update?”
“Yes, sir,” one answered. “A trio of civilians were attacked by a woman. One was grievously wounded and may not live.”
James’s heart skipped, then sped. “They were certain it was her?”
“Their description matches, sir. And…and she gave them a message to give to you.”
It was hard to breathe, his chest a complex mix of emotions. “Well? Spit it out.”
The soldier’s gaze slid past James to Alexandra, and he grimaced. “She instructed them to tell you that it wasn’t her who killed the king—she blamed another.”
James went rigid. “Who?”
“The queen mother, sir.”
Alexandra.
Though she had surely heard, Alexandra said nothing, and for his part, James felt lost for words because the accusation was insanity. He’d seen Ahnna with his own eyes with a knife in her hand, blood everywhere, and Alexandra screaming for aid. Undeniable proof she’d attacked Alexandra, and yet Ahnna expected him to believe that it had been the queen who’d arranged the murder of his father? “And what explanation did she offer for the injuries to the dowager queen? Did she blame some mystery assailant?”
Because, inexplicably, he felt a flicker of doubt.
“She offered no explanation, sir. Or at least none that was relayed to me.”
Because there wasn’t one. Alexandra had begged him to save her from Ahnna. Had confirmed later in no uncertain terms that it had been Ahnna who’d attacked her.
Ahnna was grasping, trying to undermine Alexandra. That was all this was. “Where did she attack the civilians?”
“Northwest of Sableton, sir.”
The base of the foothills.
It was possible that Ahnna had fled to the less densely populated area to hide, but James’s gut told him otherwise.
Catch her and kill her. Not only to avenge your father’s death, but to prove to William that you care more about him than you do your murderous lover.
A hand closed on his arm, and Alexandra said, “Send George. You are needed here, Jamie.”
