She let the curtain fall back and watched Asherton for a long moment.
“Bastard! Bastard! Bastard!”shouted a lone voice. The crowd hissed, like a coiled snake. Asherton’s jaw tensed, and Zephyr gripped his cards so hard that they crumpled in his fist.
“He’s an idiot,” he said, glancing anxiously at Asherton. “An ignorant, prejudiced fool.”
“What do they expect me to do about it?” Asherton asked. “My mother got a bittoodiplomatic with the king of Ashkendor. It’s not my fault. Why aren’t they angry at her?”
Magdala wasn’t sure who the question was directed to—her or Zephyr or perhaps the anthropomorphic voice of the crowd outside.
As they passed over the bridge, Asherton laughed and said, “Funny story, so when we were last here, someone broke into the coach and …”
“And you tossed them off the bridge,” Magdala said. “Yes, I recall.”
His jaw dropped. “No …”
“I was on the riot line, and the crowd was pressing me to death, and so I scrambled in here forshelter.”
“You should have told us you were a royal guard,” Zephyr mused. “We would have been more polite.”
“I couldn’t. You were crushing me, and you stuffed something in my mouth.”
“Oh, stars above, Mags,” Asherton breathed. “You couldn’t swim!”
“Yes, I’m aware.”
“How did you survive?”
“No thanks to you, I was wearing a cork vest.”
His eyes wide, Asherton muttered, “Heavens, I nearly killed you.”
“You deserved the crack in the face I gave you.”
“I really did. Well, now I feel vindicated for all those torturous swimming lessons.”
The coach creaked to a stop and Asherton sat up. “This will be a warm family reunion,” he said, looking grim.
Zephyr gripped his shoulder. “Try to be charming.”
“That won’t matter,” Asherton said with a wry smile. “Haven’t you heard, Zeph? I’m cursed.”
Queen-Regent Madelaine met them in the grand entrance. It was paneled all in mahogany, carved with dragons twisting among flowering cherry trees. A nurse stood behind her, holding a baby dressed in lace.
Magdala watched Asherton with rising anxiety, uncertain what he would do when he met his mother again. Magdala was so busy worrying about him, she wasn’t prepared for how deeply the sight of the queen affected her. The instant her eyes rested on Madelaine, her skin prickled, and heat rose from her chest to her cheeks.
This woman had cast Asherton off like he was worthless, exiled him when he had done nothing wrong, refused to protect him, and refused to allow him a decent entourage. If the assassins succeeded and Asherton was killed tomorrow, the blame rested upon this woman’s velvet-clad shoulders.
Beside her, Zephyr let out a low growl. She glanced at him, their eyes met for an instant, and Magdala saw her rage reflected in his face.
“There’s my little bean,” Asherton cried, ignoring his mother entirely and going straight for the nurse. He scooped the baby from her and nestled him in the crook of his arm, bouncing gently. “He looks like his father,” he said, smiling at Madelaine. “But don’t worry, he may outgrow that! You should send him out to Elegy when he’s older. A prince needs some dirt under his fingernails.”
The queen-regent wrung her hands as Asherton tickled the baby’s chubby chins. “Do put your brother down, Asherton,” she said.
“Why? You’ve managed to separate me from both my brothers, and I dislike it. I think I’ll sort of adopt this one when I am king. Teach him to run about barefoot. When is supper?”
His mother frowned. “You’re so crass.”
“For being hungry?” He laughed. “You mainlanders make up the oddest rules.”
