Melina Marchetta - Quintana of Charyn

‘I’ll say this again because it’s the life of a man we are playing with,’ Isaboe said. ‘Gargarin of Abroi worked for the King of Charyn eighteen years ago and then disappeared. But he did not work for the King thirteen years ago when Lumatere was attacked. How can we be sure he was involved?’

‘We intercepted a letter he sent to the Belegonians, Your Majesty,’ Sir Topher said. ‘Gargarin of Abroi wants to talk to them about Charyn’s unborn King. He has ambition.’

‘Is that a crime? Most people in this court have ambition,’ she said.

‘He mentioned Lumatere.’ Sir Topher removed the letter from his pocket and began to read. ‘ The Lumaterans need not know of our alliance. We’ll talk later about what to do with them. Leave it to me, for I have a plan for Lumatere that will eliminate them as a threat. ’

Eliminate Lumatere? Isaboe shuddered. ‘Then we must set a trap,’ she said.

Trevanion nodded. ‘Already done, my queen. We sent a letter in response to his, asking him to meet with us on the Charyn–Osteria border.’

‘And you don’t think Gargarin of Abroi knows the look of an authentic Belegonian seal on a letter?’ she asked.

Trevanion and Sir Topher exchanged a look.

‘Our spy in the Belegonian palace managed to stamp the letter with a Belegonian seal,’ Sir Topher said, and she knew him well enough to understand he was hiding something. She looked from her First Man to Trevanion.

‘Who’s your spy?’ she demanded. ‘Lord August? On his last visit? Does Abian know?’

There was silence and she almost choked at the realisation.

‘Celie?’ She stared at them in horror. ‘August will kill you.’

Sir Topher sighed. ‘Celie came to us. She’s bored. She says she’s too plain to dazzle the Belegonian court, but that they all confide in her. She says her insipid looks are the perfect weapon. Her words, not ours.’

Isaboe rubbed her face, knowing that soon she would be dealing with Celie’s parents, Lady Abian and Lord August.

‘What about Rafuel of Sebastabol?’

‘According to Lucian, the Charynite has made contact between us impossible,’ Perri said.

‘I don’t like the fact that he’s out of our sight,’ Finnikin said. ‘He’s still a prisoner and the agreement was that he would be spying in the valley for us.’

Isaboe agreed. ‘I want Lucian to send down the lads again. I want Rafuel’s every movement noted.’

‘If you send down the Mont lads, Tesadora will insist on returning to the valley for good,’ Perri said.

‘Last I knew, Tesadora was not in charge of this kingdom,’ she said coolly. ‘I’ll say it again. I want her to pay me a visit. Can you ensure she receives that request, Perri?’

He nodded. ‘I’ll send Moss.’

‘Hunt Gargarin of Abroi down,’ she said to Trevanion. ‘I don’t want him alive. And I don’t want him in Lumatere. What needs to be done.’

She spoke a few moments more with Sir Topher about their upcoming market day and then turned to find Finnikin packing.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked. ‘Where are you going?’

He refused to speak and continued to place items in his pack.

‘What is wrong with you?’ she cried.

She grabbed the cloak from his belongings and threw it back into the chest.

He stood her aside and retrieved the cloak and placed it back in his pack before pulling on calfskin trousers, which she knew he only used for travel.

‘I’m going with my father and Perri.’

‘No!’

He laced up his boots, continuing to dress as if she hadn’t spoken.

‘You’re not going to Charyn, Finnikin.’

‘I don’t follow a wife’s orders,’ he said.

‘I’m not speaking to you as your wife,’ she shouted. ‘I’m speaking to you as your queen, and my order is that you are not going to Charyn.’

In her corner, Jasmina awoke and began to cry.

‘Ah, so that’s what is meant by the “Queen’s Consort”,’ Finnikin said with bitterness. ‘A page who answers to her demands.’

She grabbed his arm, but he shook it free.

‘Is that what this is about?’ she asked. ‘Being my consort?’

He ignored her.

‘Answer me!’

‘You spoke another man’s name in my bed!’

She stared at him, stunned. He had shouted at her this way once before when she had been disguised as the novice Evanjalin. It was almost four years past when he discovered the truth about Balthazar and had accused her of sedition.

‘I go to Charyn with my father and Perri,’ he said, his voice hard. ‘Because I speak the language in a way they don’t and if we are fortunate enough to cross the path of our wayward lad, I’ll bring him home to you safe and sound. Perhaps you can murmur his name to him while he shares your bed.’

She slapped his face with a cry of outrage and he pulled her close to him, his arms shaking.

‘You’ve never spoken to me of your time in Sorel as a child,’ he said, and she saw tears in his eyes. ‘You’ve always said it was too painful. That apart from Balthazar’s death and what you witnessed in Sarnak, it was your worst memory. Yet you told him. You trusted another man with your pain.’

He shook his head, anguished and full of fury. ‘I’ve told you everything. Every fear I have. How can we be equals in this union if you can’t trust me?’

‘Not telling you about Sorel has nothing to do with trust, Finnikin!’ she said.

He walked out the door before she could speak another word.

Soon after, she saw his fleece on their bed and knew he would freeze without it. Let him, she thought. Let him. But she grabbed the fleece and walked outside, flinging it over the balcony down to where Finnikin was already mounting his horse in the courtyard alongside his father and Perri. It caught him in the face and her only satisfaction was that the weight of it almost toppled him from his horse.

‘And don’t expect any sympathy if you catch your death out there,’ she shouted. ‘You didn’t even pack an undershirt.’

‘I expect nothing from you,’ he shouted back.

She was determined he would not get the last word and shouted a whole lot more until she had no idea what she was saying.

Inside, she walked to Jasmina’s bed, thinking of her dream again. Not of the savageness and not of the confusion, but of the part that she remembered most of all. That it wasn’t Tesadora and Vestie who had walked the sleep with her, as they had each month before her pregnancy when it was Isaboe’s time to bleed. It was a different spirit now, one that almost shared her heartbeat. She stared down at her daughter, but knew it hadn’t been Jasmina. She felt a kick in her belly and almost buckled, imagining the truth.

Had she walked the sleep of some savage beast with her unborn child?

‘Froi?’

‘Yes?’

‘Are you awake?’

‘I am now.’

‘I can’t sleep.’

‘What are you thinking?’

‘About sad things, really. What if I never get to meet our little king, Froi?’

‘Don’t say that. Don’t think it!’

‘He’ll never know that the time I felt most brave was when I knew he was in my belly.’

‘You were brave long before that, Quintana. Sleep.’

‘Quintana?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you awake?’

‘I am now.’

‘I can’t sleep,’ he said.

‘What are you thinking?’

‘That time … that time you let go of my hand in the Citavita,’ he said, ‘when you thought I would hurt you and the babe, where would you have gone?’