Chapter 33

Wren's POV

Dunne's hand went to her chest, and fright came into her face. I knew what she was afraid of, because I was afraid of it too. The King meant to look at this child and decide whether he was the Prince's.

"He's dressing now," Theo said. "He says the people about the young master are to be ones we can trust."

Dunne stopped short, and thought for no time at all, and turned and looked at me.

* * *

The carriages were drawn up at the front gate, and everyone was very quiet.

I stood behind Dunne with Sol in my arms and tried to breathe without noise. What if the King and Queen looked at him and saw he wasn't the Prince's? What would happen to him then? And there was the old rule I had heard of, that a royal pup grew the royal mark on him sooner or later, and the King's house went by it. Sol would never grow one. My hands went cold, and I held him tighter so they wouldn't shake.

The Prince was in his court black, with the silver crescent at his collar, speaking low to the King's messenger.

A nurse didn't ride with a prince, even with his pup in her arms. Dunne led me down the line to a small carriage with a blue hood at the very end.

"Keep close behind His Highness, and don't let him be jolted." She checked his wrappings twice more.

I was glad of it. I had not been alone with the Prince since that night.

I had my foot on the step when he turned round. His eyes came across the yard, as if by chance.

Sol had just woken. He twisted his head out of the blanket to see what was going on, and when he saw the Prince, he smiled at him.

The Prince stopped. Something in his face went soft for a moment. He came over to us.

He didn't say anything. He took Sol out of my arms as if he did it every day, and bent his head to make faces at him, and Sol laughed and chattered back.

He was very close to me, holding Sol. And then he frowned a little, and turned his head toward me, and breathed in.

"What is that smell?"

I could feel his eyes on the top of my bowed head. I went stiff, and my face burned. I had washed from head to foot as soon as I heard about the palace, and I had never touched scent in my life.

"I... I've washed, Highness. I've changed. There oughtn't to be any smell..."

"It'll be the soap, Highness," Dunne said quickly, with a laugh. "Or milk and the press the clothes were kept in. It's getting late. His Majesty's waiting."

* * *

Evander's POV

I didn't move at once.

It was very faint. But I had caught it. A thin, clean thread of orchid, so faint it was hardly there. Cool, with the least bitterness at the back of it, like wild orchids in some deep valley with the dew still on them, after rain.

I knew it. I had smelled it in my sleep a hundred times since the winter, and followed it a hundred times, and woken with nothing.

Why would it be on her?

And why now? She had been in my house for a fortnight. I had been close enough to her more than once, and I had never smelled it on her before. Why today?

There wasn't time. I gave the pup back into her arms and said to Dunne, "Very well. Let's go," and went to my carriage and got in.

* * *

Wren's POV

I didn't breathe out until the black of his coat had gone behind the curtain. My back was wet under my dress.

Dunne gave me an odd look. "Get in. And mind him."

Inside the little carriage I put my nose to my sleeve. Clean soap, and a little milk. That was all I could smell. But then, I couldn't have smelled anything else.

* * *

The palace was high white walls and wide white steps. I carried Sol half a pace behind the Prince with my head bent.

We had just come round a screen wall into a long walk when a party came toward us the other way, a cluster of maids and footmen with two people in the middle.

"Evander!" A girl's voice, bright and pleased. "Oh, this is a wonder. Have you brought our little nephew to see Father and Mother?"

It was the Princess Isolde, in pomegranate red, beautiful and smiling, and her eyes went straight to the bundle in my arms.

The man beside her stopped, and bowed deeply to the Prince.

"Your Highness."

At the sound of his voice, all of me went rigid.

Tall, straight, in a rich coat, still carrying himself like a man who had come out of the army. Adrian.

I bent my head so low it was nearly in Sol's blanket, and my arms closed tight around him.

The Prince barely broke his stride. "No need, Lord Marshal."

Isolde was already coming toward me with her skirts in her hand. "Let me see him. Is he like you?" She reached out. "Oh, let me hold him, just for a moment."

She reached for him all at once, with no care for his head, the way people do who have never held a baby. I held on and turned my shoulder a little.

Her hands closed on nothing. She stared at me, and her face changed. "What's the matter with you? Didn't you see I wanted him? Give him to me."

"Forgive her, Highness," Dunne said, hurrying forward. "She's new. She doesn't know..."

"He's a few weeks old." The Prince had turned round. He looked at Isolde's outstretched hands, and his voice was cold. "His neck's not strong yet. You have to hold him flat and keep his head up, and if you do it wrong you'll hurt him. You've never held one this small. Leave him be."

Isolde's face went red. "Evander! You think I can't do anything."

"His Highness is right," Adrian said quietly. "They're very delicate. When he's bigger, Highness, you'll be able to hold him as much as you like."

She gave me a hard look. "Oh, very well. Then lift his veil and let me see his face, at least."

"Yes, Highness."

I raised the thin gauze off Sol's face and turned him a little toward her. To do it I had to lift my arm and turn and raise my face.

And my eyes met Adrian's.

He was looking straight at me. His eyes stopped on my face and stayed there, too long. Something in his face pulled tight and then let go, and then he looked away.

The last time he had seen me I had been stained brown with walnut, with my hair bound up in a headscarf and my belly out in front of me. This time I had nothing on my face at all.

"Oh, he's tiny!" Isolde said. "Oh, he's sweet."

Adrian wasn't looking at me now. He smiled at the Prince, as if it were a compliment. "Your nurse seems to know what she's about, Highness. She takes great care of him. Where is she from, if I may ask? She doesn't look like a Silverkeep woman."

I kept my eyes on Sol's face.

The Prince raised his eyebrows, as if surprised the Lord Marshal should care, and then his face went back to its usual amusement. He looked from Adrian to his sister and laughed.

"Well. Our Lord Marshal has time today to wonder where my nurse comes from?" He didn't answer it. "Look, Isolde. Your intended notices everything."

Isolde went pink. "Evander, don't. We're not even..."

"Soon enough. It's only a few weeks off now, isn't it? If you like little ones so much, you two can have a dozen of your own and leave mine alone."

She turned her back on him, scarlet. Adrian looked down, uncomfortable, and his eyes slid toward me again.

I had already looked away.

*She doesn't look like a Silverkeep woman.* Did he know me? In the Prince's house I couldn't hide my face the way I had when I was running. Anyone who had known me, looking closely, wouldn't need long. And that moment when he had stared, and now that question. I was sure of it. He had his suspicions. He might already know.

I held Sol closer, and made myself think. What if he did? I would deny it, and keep denying it, and what could he do? Stand up in the palace and point at a nurse and call her his dead Luna? He was to be bound to a princess. He had everything he wanted. A first mate come back from the grave would be the last thing he needed. He would be glad if I really were dead.

As long as I held to being Nell Darrow, whatever he suspected, he wouldn't dare say it. My fear went down a little.

"Don't dawdle," the Prince said ahead of me, a little impatient.

"Yes, Highness."

I hurried after him with Sol. What frightened me now was what waited at the end of this walk. Would the King take Sol as his grandson, or wouldn't he?