The woman continued. “I proposed such a thing to your father after my husband died—that if he were to marry me and join our kingdoms, we’d have enough power to change the laws of succession. To give you a chance to rule in your own right. And any daughters after you.”
This, Amarande had not known. As much as she’d learned in the yard, the meadow, and from her instructors, her father hadn’t allowed her at Royal Council meetings until the last year. If this had been spoken of there, it was never in her presence. Of course, this woman had every reason to lie.
The Dowager Queen’s eyes snapped to the princess. “As you are aware, he spurned my advances. The law didn’t change. And now you’ve been all but kidnapped yourself to maintain the status quo.”
Amarande swallowed, watching the queen as she laid a sliver of cheese on her tongue, chewed, and swallowed. The food was nearly gone.
“My son won’t change the laws and you know it. He doesn’t want to limit the power of men to the whims of women. He was born privileged and primed for the best life available—he has no interest in lifting up anyone else. Renard will only use a two-kingdom influence to win power for himself. Until every last dusty acre of this continent is under his control and the rest of us are in his shadow.”
The Dowager Queen’s eyes flashed and Amarande found enough certainty in them to stop her heart. War. Renard would put the whole continent at war to claim it for his own. Withherarmy joined with his, he could very much achieve it. But so could Inés with the right husband. Koldo had said it herself—a prolonged, multi-front war was not something even Ardenia’s great army could survive. If Inés had two armies at her disposal, Ardenia would struggle to stave off an extensive campaign.
“And then he will need heirs. Male heirs.” The older woman’s voice sharpened. “Renard will be your own personal hell until he gets a healthy heir and a spare.”
Amarande cleared her throat.
“He knows I will not allow that,” the princess said, though deep within, her confidence trembled.
“Ah, but it doesn’t matter what you will allow. And that’s the point, Princess. I’ve lived it—it’s a grim life. And, in your case, one caused by an untimely death.”
Inés watched Amarande now in a way that made the princess’s eyes find great interest in the pattern on the marble floor. “I must say, it is very hard for me to believe that your tiger of a father just keeled over and died without foul play.” Amarande grew stone still, a chill running the length of her spine. “And I think you don’t believe thatstoryeither, do you?”
Amarande didn’t confirm it verbally, but she knew the queen could read it all over her blank face.
“He was riding on the border shared by Ardenia, the Torrent, and Pyrenee, was he not? Touching the hands of strangers, hugging children, blessing the sick—all the solstice usual…” She raised a brow. “So many opportunities to push a new regime into motion with one forgettable, yet fatal, interaction.”
The princess’s words came out in a fevered rush, her mind swirling with the press of motivations from all sides, even those not within the glittering confines of the Bellringe. She no longer kept her voice down. “And you believe Renard would do that when you yourself have worked openly to steal his rightful claim with a well-timed marriage and sire?”
Here, Inés smiled tightly. The food beside her was gone, and she straightened from where she’d rested on the chaise that had once been hers.
“I did not kill your father, Amarande. Believe me, with the amount of maneuvering I must do as a woman to incite neededchange in the laws of the Sand and Sky, the last thing I’d want to do is free up the girl who could bring my son early, uncontested rule and the world’s strongest army. There is more than one reason I wish him not to be king, Princess.”
“Mother, is that you?” The knob shook from the other side, and then the door flung wide and Renard stood there, key in hand.
The Dowager Queen’s eyes swept from the key in his hand to Amarande’s face. “See? Nothing is yours and yours alone, is it, Princess? It will never be.”
The prince advanced, his jaw hardening, as he took in Amarande, standing there in her dressing gown, clearly not prepared for guests. The look he gave his mother could light any of the Warlord’s fire pits. “What are you doing here? Get away from her. Now.”
His mother smiled coolly. “We’re just having a little girl time, Renard. Nothing to be afraid of.”
His attention snapped to Amarande. “Whatever she told you is untrue.”
Taillefer appeared at his brother’s back, straightening a particularly flashy dinner jacket. Enough gold thread and sewn-in baubles to blend in with a fallen star.
“Is it untrue that you drugged her soap with poppy so that she might rest soundly until wedding time?” Inés asked, brow cocked. “A sleeping girl cannot escape.”
At this, Taillefer gave a bashful smile, his talent recognized. Renard opened his mouth and then closed it, knowing his brother had inadvertently confirmed it.
“Is it untrue that you want to use her power to winallof the Sand and Sky?” his mother asked, smiling brilliantly.
Renard’s ears reddened. He glanced away.
The Dowager Queen continued.
“Is it untrue that she would be happier with her stableboy?” Then the Dowager Queen’s eyes shot to Taillefer—she hadn’t been therefor his orders, but she had no trouble proving that nothing happened in this castle without her notice. “Is he still in one piece?”
“Of course,” the younger prince said too quickly. His brother said nothing.
Amarande saw Renard read her panic, color rising in his cheeks—his fury growing with each of his mother’s words.
