Page 10

Chapter Five

Plants in the Hybrid Musk Rose Group Don’t Count as Heritage Roses, and I Will Fight You

Jacqueline turned to me as we descended the stairs. “I don’t think I’ve met your nephew.”

“He wasn’t home when you visited,” I said. “He spends as much time as he can at sea. Away from his mother, Gruoch. The duchess. I’m sure you remember her.”

“It’s difficult to forget someone so intent on my decapitation.” In response to King Gervase’s questioning look, she added, “There are actually seven of them, not six. They left the oldest sister behind in Ecossia. For a good reason.”

“Ah.” Gervase was familiar with difficult siblings. It was his own half sister who, during her attempt to seize the throne, had led the army of monsters that wrought so much destruction upon the castle walls.

We stepped out onto the flat white stones of the courtyard. Good sturdy masonry, closely fitted. I could be here a while before any flowers poked up through the joints.

The air contained the mingled scents of bread from the kitchens and manure from the stables. Above us, the pennants on the battlements snapped in a strong breeze. But the castle walls shielded us from the wind, and the sun had just overtopped the ramparts and was doing its best to dispel the lingering morning chill. The courtyard was miserably cold in the winter and miserably hot in the summer, but right at that moment, in springtime, it wasn’t so bad.

The castle was always a bustle of activity; baking and cleaning and weaving began as soon as there was light. Even so, there weren’t usually quite this many people finding excuses to pass through the courtyard. A small crowd had gathered to get a glimpse of the fellow who’d emerged naked from the sea.

Lulach wasn’t naked anymore, though. Someone had found a dressing gown for him. It was far too short, and his skinny, shoeless legs poked out from the bottom. He’d sprouted up like a runner bean since the last time I’d seen him.

He took after his long-deceased father, with wavy brown hair and jughandle ears. The growth spurt had left him stretched out—thin and gangly, with hands and feet that seemed too big for his body. The flesh under his eyes was such a deep purple it almost looked bruised. Had he swum through the night?

Currently, he was chattering nonstop to a pair of damp guards, presumably the ones who had hauled him out of the bay. “It’s a slug,” he said, “but it haes the face of a sheep, and leaves growing oan its back. Green leaves! Like a plant! Can ye imagine? Although if it feeds oan algae, that micht account for the color, the same way that a mollusk will turn red if it eats red sponges…”

Some creature he’d spotted at the bottom of the sea, I was certain. Lulach was as obsessive about marine life as Winifred was about window construction. Or as Drusilla was about hunting, or Alexandra about breakfast. We’re a rather obsessive family. Ask me about vintage rose varieties sometime. Or don’t, if you value your afternoon.

It’s best never to chat with Lulach’s mother about her obsession. Because she’s obsessed with murdering you.

The guards’ eyes bulged as Lulach’s description of the sheep-slug-plant monster became alarming (head tentacles, beady black eyes, massive coils of eggs waiting to hatch out an enormous rampaging horde). It sounded like some kind of hybrid abomination thrown together by a deranged sorcerer. Which was exactly the sort of thing that had left all the holes in the castle walls, and everyone was still a bit traumatized by it.

I called out his name before he started a panic, and Lulach swung his head in my direction, stuttering to a halt in the middle of a sentence. His face lit up when he saw me. Before I knew it, he’d picked me up and spun me around, much to my surprise. That was something he certainly wouldn’t have been capable of when I left Ecossia. He was taller than I was now.

Although he wasn’t that much taller than me; he could only barely lift me. His arms and legs were thin as sticks. He stumbled as he set me down, tripping over his own feet and nearly sending both of us crashing to the paving stones. That was more like the Lulach I remembered. He’d never been very graceful on land.

“Are all of ye here?” he asked. “Nicki? Winifred? Is Aunt Drusilla in the castle, or is she oot hunting? And—”

“They’re inside,” I managed to say. I was still a little dizzy and having trouble finding my footing. “Asleep. It was a long night. Should I wake everyone? They’ll want to see you.”

His eyes flicked to the sun above the ramparts, and then back to me. His expression dimmed. “I shouldnae stay long. Best if it’s nae mair than a few minutes.”

“You only just got here!”

“If I come home later than usual, she’ll ken something’s wrong.” No need to ask who she was. “And if that happens—”

Jacqueline cleared her throat.

The king and queen had been hanging back with their guardian knights, going largely unnoticed while all the attention was on the newcomer from the sea. As soon as she made their presence known, the guards stiffened to attention and the onlookers who really should have been somewhere else hurried off, the crowd dispersing.

“Lulach,” I said, “this is Queen Jacqueline. And King Gervase. The rulers of Tailliz.”

“Hello!” He gave the king and queen a cheerful wave. “Um, Yer Majesties,” he added belatedly. Ecossia is too disorganized to have a monarch of its own, so we tend to let the protocols slip. “Ye need nae hae come oot just for me.”

Gervase smiled tolerantly. He was used to Ecossics and their habits. “Your aunts are quite important to us. Anything that troubles them also troubles us.”

“What brings you here?” the queen asked, more bluntly.

He fidgeted under her level gaze. “Well. I’m here because I need help.” He turned to face me. “The Levy’s bin called.”

“Fucking hell!” If I’d been half-asleep a moment before, that jolted me wide awake. Jacqueline sucked in a breath. Behind her, Sir Maxine and Sir Harriet traded worried glances. “Why now?” I asked. “Is there a war in the south?”