Chapter 36
Chapter thirty-six
Seraphina
Amap of Elmoria sprawled across her desk, the entirety of her island kingdom captured on parchment—from the frozen wilds of Varoa in the far north to the now-abandoned Lowlands in the south.
Exhaustion weighed heavily on her eyelids. A pending headache stabbed at her right temple. It was getting late. Aldric and Sir Easome had departed the city hours ago. Night had long since fallen.
But still she sat at her desk, tracing the path they would be taking west about the city while she absentmindedly toyed with her wedding ring. As if by merely viewing the lines inked there, she could watch over her Crow in truth.
Where was he now?
Was he…safe?
For a single moment, she wished she had the true gift of foresight like Oracle Tsukiko rather than simply being cursed with a single vision playing on repeat. At least then she would know.
The candle holding one corner of her map flat sputtered as the door to her study swung open. Seraphina jerked upright from her slumped position.
From the doorway, her godmother offered a small smile. In her hands, she carried a tray bearing a pot of tea and two cups. “I thought I would find you here.”
Seraphina swallowed down a yawn and rubbed at her eyes. “You should be asleep,” she complained on a murmur, trying to keep from slurring the words.
Duchess Edith’s smile turned wry as she swept into the room, pushing the door closed behind her with her hip. “As should you, darling. Which is why I have chamomile tea right here. It always puts you right to sleep.”
Resting the tea tray on the edge of the desk, the duchess busied herself with rolling up the map, no doubt to make more room for their drinks.
Seraphina was too tired to protest beyond a mere, “I was looking at that.”
Her godmother slanted her a look. “Staring at that map will not make the Baron of Crestley’s ships arrive in Goldreach any sooner. Besides, there will be plenty of time to obsess over troop movements tomorrow. After you have slept.”
Settling deeper in her chair, Seraphina remained quiet, holding her tongue. There was no need to reveal to the duchess that, for once, she hadn’t been fussing about just where Lord Tiberius’s ships were. It took time to sail such a large fleet around the southern tip of Elmoria, after all.
This time, it was her Crow who held all her concern. Even though he was probably the last person in all Elmoria who needed it. He was a grown man—a capable man—and a seasoned warrior besides. He could handle himself out there, in the dark and the cold.
The cold.
Without warning, her mind reeled backward. She was suddenly back in the cathedral on their wedding day, his mouth crushed to hers, cold sweeping through her veins. That oily voice echoing through her thoughts once more.
“You cannot save him, child. He is already mine—”
“Sera?”
Seraphina blinked once and focused her attention back on her godmother, who still stood before her, slowly stirring a cube of sugar into each cup of tea. By the light of the fire crackling warmly in the hearth, it was impossible to miss the worry pinching the corners of the older woman’s eyes.
Setting aside her teaspoon, Duchess Edith claimed one of the chairs before the desk and handed Seraphina a cup. “Was it the vision again?” she softly asked, sneaking a glance toward the closed door as though afraid of them being overheard.
Seraphina shook her head and cradled the teacup within her hands, letting it warm her palms. “No. It’s…” She swallowed hard. She had yet to tell her godmother about the voice that had been plaguing her. First at the wedding. Then in her dream. She had told no one about it.
No one save for Aldric.
The man probably thought her mad. Visions sent from the Lord were one thing.
Dark voices were something else entirely.
Seraphina pinned a smile to her lips—a false, brittle smile. “Nothing,” she lied, blowing across the steaming surface of her tea before hazarding a sip. Light, floral, sweet. Her godmother always made the most perfect cup of tea.
Duchess Edith frowned, clearly not convinced. And yet she didn’t pursue the matter further. “Did Percy speak with you?” she asked instead, changing the subject.
Seraphina felt her smile soften into something more sincere. “Yes. His Grace stopped by earlier to invite me to breakfast in the morning. I suppose that means he’s no longer cross with me?”
Her godmother shook her head and reached across the desk until her free hand rested on Seraphina’s arm.
“He could never be cross with you,” the duchess whispered, offering a gentle squeeze as if in punctuation to the words.
“He loves you, so very, very much. You just know how Percy is. He worries about you. He overthinks everything. He…” She trailed off, as if hunting for the right words.
Another voice smoothly slipped itself into the conversation to suggest, “Is prone to being cranky when he’s constipated?”
Duchess Edith startled, spilling some of her tea.
Seraphina’s heart leapt into her throat. Only barely swallowing down her scream, she looked toward the now-open door. There Olivia lounged against the doorframe, dressed in her usual attire of black on black on black—black shirt, black trousers, black cloak.
Olivia frowned at the two of them while fanning herself with a letter, as if it were sweltering hot at this time of night rather than blisteringly cold. “Why was I not invited to the tea party?”
The duchess scowled in turn, as if doing her best to impersonate her husband. “Because I just assumed you were with Sir Dacre. And I do wish you would stop doing that, Olivia dear.”
Olivia’s lips pursed for a moment, as though she had just tasted something sour, before just as quickly she flashed one of her easy smiles. “And I wish people would stop talking about Sir Dacre, but we don’t always get what we want, do we?”
Seraphina’s gaze fixated on that letter Olivia was holding. There was something about it that looked familiar. Something that sent her pulse racing. “Olivia. What is that?”
Her best friend raised both eyebrows in mock surprise. “What? This?” Without waiting for an answer, she tossed the missive onto the desk. “Just the letter you’ve been waiting for.”
Duchess Edith gasped, “The Duke of Coreto’s seal. He has responded so soon?”
Seraphina’s throat tightened as she set aside her tea and snatched up the letter, nearly fumbling it as she did so. The wax seal was already broken. She shot Olivia a withering look. “You have read it already.”
Shameless as ever, her Spymaster shrugged. “Just like I read all the mail coming in and out of the palace. It’s part of the job. I just usually care enough to seal it back afterward so no one ever notices.”
Seraphina blinked once. She shouldn’t have been surprised that Olivia read even her letters. Nothing Olivia did should ever surprise her at this point.
Duchess Edith leaned forward, her tone urgent. “Well? What does it say?”
Dropping her gaze back to the bit of paper in her hands, she hastily unfolded it and set herself to the task of deciphering Coreto’s cramped scrawl. Her eyes flitted across the page, trying to devour each word at once. She had to read it a second time, slower, to make proper sense of it, though.
“He has agreed to meet,” she finally breathed, barely daring to believe it. “Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” her godmother echoed, glancing between the two of them. “Will the men be in position by tomorrow? Will that be enough time?”
Those two questions slammed into her exhausted mind, scattering her thoughts further. She was on her feet in the next moment, Coreto’s letter crumpling between her hands. “I do not know,” she whispered. “But we can make it if we leave at first light.”
Olivia watched her from beneath half-hooded eyelids, tracking her every move. “You didn’t share the rest of it,” the other woman pointed out. “Like the bit about how he will only meet on the condition you come alone and that you are unarmed.”
She felt the full weight of her godmother’s gaze bore into the side of her face. The duchess’s worry filled the room. “Percy will not like that,” she murmured.
“Nor do I,” Olivia added.
Nor will Aldric.
But this was it. This was the opportunity she had been waiting for.
And these were the Duke of Coreto’s terms.
Turning back toward her friend, Seraphina softly commanded, “Write back to him. Tell him that I will come unarmed, but I will not be denied the privilege of a single escort.”
Olivia’s eyes narrowed. “You had better be about to name me as the escort, Sera, or I swear that I will leave this room and go purchase every pet snake in Goldreach and fill your bedchamber with them.” The other woman lifted her wrapped right hand, still broken from her scuffle with Aldric.
“I may be down a hand, but I don’t need both to protect you. ”
Despite the circumstances, a small smile tugged at Seraphina’s lips. “I would have no one else with me, Olivia. Yes, you are the escort I want with me.”
But no sooner had those words departed her lips than she realized they weren’t true.
Not fully. There was one other person she would have wanted with her in such circumstances, keeping her safe.
The dangerous man she had married. The one who had entrusted his mother’s ring to her.
The one who looked at her as if no one else existed while she was in the room.
The very man she could only pray would be where she needed him to be tomorrow.
Because this was her one chance—to stop Coreto’s coup before it could even start.