There is an art to setting a trap. Cleves has laid many in her time. As a child, she became adept at understanding the way creatures moved through a forest or a marsh: boar; the smaller wild dragons of Ezzonid; soldiers; vicious fairies.
The patch of woodland she squats in now reminds her of those days. The air is humid, scented with mud and the tang of bear’s garlic. They are only a short ride from the outskirts of Cnothan Town, but no human has willingly come to this wood in many years, despite its rich offerings.
“I do not understand why you did not set your servants this task,” Johana says. He passes her another twist of rope, and she secures it to two tree trunks, creating a makeshift fence, a funnel.
“If my husband had sought anything other than living crones, I might have done.”
“So you risk my life instead. I am flattered.”
“I will remind you again that I did not insist upon your company, Johana. You could always journey to Gnottel Lodge and check on our prisoner.”
He has been by her side almost constantly since the moment she admitted her plan to overthrow Henry. She cannot deny that he has been helpful, but she can neither trust nor stomach it. She has been content with her own company for many years. She is too set in her ways to change now.
“From what my servants have told me of Cecilia’s behaviour, I think I would rather face the crones.”
They move to their next position, tracking a path between ferns and bluebells to a deep trench, freshly dug.
“Why does the king even wish for such vile creatures?” Johana says. He presses a handkerchief over his nose, so his voice is muffled.
“That I do not yet know.”
“But you think it wise to help him?”
She casts around for fallen branches, using them to cover the trench in greenery.
“I think it wise to show him that I am willing to do his bidding, no matter how dangerous,” she says.
Johana flicks a branch in her direction with his toe. “Do you fear that he suspects you?”
“He would be a fool not to.” She throws the branch over the trench, covering the last of it, and stands, out of breath. “Of all his remaining queens, I stand the most to gain from taking back the goddess’s power, since I have never been in his favour. And Cecilia’s ship was nigh on halfway between Cnothan and Plythe. Of course he will be watching me closely.”
“It is perhaps good fortune, then, that your brother has tied our two countries so closely together with this treaty. It offers you some protection, no?”
“Yes, my brother undoubtedly made the deal formy benefit.”
Johana sighs loudly. The sound clogs the woody air.
She glares at him. “Quiet, cousin; you will alert the crone to my plans.”
He pulls a face at her as they used to do when they were children, but when he speaks again he is quieter. “Can you truly blame Wilhelm for treating with Henry? He waited, cousin.Wewaited. When our butterflies told us the rumours, we waited for you. And you never sent us more than niceties.”
She stifles a laugh as she kneels, checking from every angle that the trench is concealed.
“What would have been the point? Ezzonid would never have moved against Elben. Even if you were a seafaring nation, you could have sent ship after ship against the bordweal and seen every one destroyed.”
“You are no simpleton. You know as well as I that there is more than one way to wage war, and many ways without need of weapons or warships. Is this not the war you wage now?”
He has a point there, but Cleves is not about to admit it.
“Well, I am the way I am, Johana. I have taken you into my confidence now, have I not?”
There is movement in the distance. A crack of branches breaking. They still. Johana swears beneath his breath. “If I die in this godforsaken place, I shall spit upon you, cousin.”
It has been a long time since she heard that phrase. It sounds uncouth in translation, but in its original Ezzonidian, it suggests a haunting, the malicious dance of ghosts.
“No one is going to die,” she says. Not today, at least, if she has set her trap right. In the days to come? Well. It does no good to dwell on that.
She peers through the undergrowth. “There you are,” she breathes.
