I swallowed. “Thank you.”
She drummed her fingers on the bed. “Are you sure you’re not just leaving because of—”
“No,” I said, too quickly.
“You didn’t let me finish.”
“I knew what you were going to say. And no, it’s not just because of Patrick.”
“He came to find you. He was distraught when you left.”
I closed my eyes briefly.
“Really, Netta. I think he …”
“No,” I said, holding up a hand. “I know. I know, and …” I tried to sort out my complicated thoughts, with little success. “I know he … cares about me, in his way. But if I stay near him, I won’t be able to decide for myself what I need to do. Even if he has the best intentions, he can’t help but interfere. Whatever I do, I need to do it away from him.”
“Always?”
“Yes. No.” I sighed. “I don’t know.”
“Well, don’t disappear,” she said. “Not from me, at least.”
“Never,” I said, and finally let my hand curl round under hers to link her fingers with mine.
A soft knock at the door. The maid appeared again. “The king wants to see you, my lady,” she said almost apologetically.
Mieka and I exchanged glances. “Go back to the Book Man,” I said. “Tell him to meet me up on the roof when he’s ready.”
She nodded and slipped out, and I followed the maid down the interminable halls.
It wasn’t the king’s official reception room, but it was grand enough. Well-dressed men and women stood about looking grave and official, while a servant passed between them, pouring wine into their cups from a silver pitcher. Towards the back, in the shadows, I saw Patrick. He was his usual impeccable self again, seeming to stand quite comfortably, with no sign of injury. He met my gaze for a moment, giving me the ghost of a smile.
“Your Majesty.” I dipped into my best approximation of a curtsey, which was more like a nervous bob.
“Lady Edevane,” he replied. That was going to take some getting used to.
The king got to his feet. One of his courtiers made a movement, as if to hold his arm, but he waved them away and bowed, dipping so low that I could see the white line of his scalp in his pale-blond hair. He wore only a simple circlet today and a plain velvet doublet, but somehow managed to look every inch a king despite his plain clothing and frailty.
“I hear you just prevented an uprising,” he said mildly. “My thanks.”
He had kind eyes, I noticed, and a smile of surprising sweetness. He couldn’t be much older than me, and his open, clean-shaven face made him look boyish. I found I was assessing him differently at this meeting, now that I knew what Patrick had planned for me. This man could have been my husband. Still could, I supposed, depending on what the coming months brought to Virelith, and on what the consequences of my uneasy alliance with bone magic would be.
I realized he was still waiting for my reply.
“Er, yes, I suppose so,” I said.
“Virelith is grateful for your loyalty,” he said.
“What will happen to the Pontiff?”
“The Pontiff has been disgraced—but of course, the Temple is denying that he acted with their knowledge. So while we have imprisoned him, the Temple elders will cloister and elect another. It is likely that someone just like him will take his place.” He sighed. “The Temple remains ever ambitious, especially when it comes to controlling every aspect of magic. But at least one avenue is now closed to them.”
“Oh.” I had hoped for more. “And Milady?”
“In hiding, I believe.”
“Will she be punished as well?”
