Page 20 of A King’s Trust (Heart-Mage Trilogy #1)

20

A TULIP FAMILY

N o one spoke for most of the three days of hard riding it took to cross Chudeau’s northern width except to discuss travel logistics, politely offer tea, or point out obvious features of the terrain before them. Beau had nothing to say, Penny seemed afraid to broach the wall of Beau’s despair, and Aloise took her cue from the royals.

When they clipped across the far west corner of Estforet and passed into southeastern Veritelutte on the fourth day, the queen finally broke. “We have to talk about your brother.”

Beau blinked at the space between Tempest’s ears and summoned his conscious mind from the mire of maudlin thoughts it had been floating in. “Do we?”

“What did Elias mean about what he was doing with artifacts? Did he get rid of them? Sell them? Is the vault really empty?”

With immense effort, Beau turned his head far enough to see Aloise on his other side, riding a speedy-looking roan gelding he recognized as Nilah’s horse.

He wondered if they could catch him, if he rode away from this conversation. Tempest was quick, but he suspected Penny’s Nightbird could outpace her, and the guard’s roan had the long legs and bright eyes of a fast horse, too.

“It’s empty. I don’t know why and I don’t know what El meant,” Beau said flatly. “My brother was the one with the keys, even though it was theoretically in my name. Just like all the money requests ‘I’ made while I lived in the isles were signed and sealed, most likely by the one other person who had access to my seal and had a signed letter from me.”

Penny absorbed this. “So…it’s possible he was telling the truth. That your brother did …”

“Deserve to die?” Beau couldn’t modulate his voice; first it was too flat, now too sharp. “For making me look wasteful instead of him? For maybe misplacing old magic items?”

“For being a sadistic pig,” Aloise said quietly, resolutely.

Beau swiveled toward her. “What?”

“I’ve always liked Elias,” she said, staring straight ahead along the road. “Always trusted his judgment. If he killed your brother, I like him more.” She swallowed hard and met Beau’s stare. Though her mouth was set, her eyes betrayed nervousness.

“Capu never trusted you; she never understood how you could punish all the other nobles on Mistress Dubois’s list and defend Charmant. But I get it: you don’t know what he was, do you?”

Tempest frisked, frightened by a bunny bursting from the bushes ahead, and Beau calmed her with his knees. “What are you saying? That Char belonged on Dubois’s list?”

“Yes.” She swallowed hard again. “Do you need me to describe why? Capucine and I can both give you a personal account.” Her voice broke on the last word, and her throat tightened. He could see her pulse pounding wildly at her neck.

His mouth went dry. Beau shook his head. “No, you don’t need to describe…” He reined Tempest in, bowing his head over her neck, and tried to slow his racing thoughts.

He’s not lying about Char—he’s just wrong. He truly believes his brother was a good man who deserved the throne.

His brother hadn’t been a good man who was occasionally cruel to Beau. He was cruel to everyone with no power to stop him. Even Penny hadn’t liked him, and she’d been a brilliant, well-connected duchess set to rule the kingdom beside him: someone Char should’ve respected, even by the most contemptible standards.

“Oh fuck. I’m sorry, Aloise.” When he glanced at her, she nodded but said nothing, watching him work through it. Beau’s mind whirled as he rethought everything in a more sinister light. Char had changed payments to other lords: why? What had he been paying them for? Char had made an entire vault of artifacts disappear. Why ? Where had they gone? If he was willing to hurt people who were entirely in his power, what the fuck was he capable of?

I didn’t have to kill him. But I wanted to. Because I hated your brother, Beauregard. I fucking hated him and he deserved to die.

What had Elias known? “Oh fuck. Fuck .” He wanted to ask why Aloise hadn’t told him sooner , but unfortunately, he understood. She hadn’t trusted him for the same reason Capucine hadn’t, and of fucking course she didn’t. Instead, he asked, “I’m sorry if this is rude, but…weren’t you scared? Of me, I mean? To work for me?”

To his surprise, Aloise laughed. “Of course we were. Didn’t you notice how on edge we all were the first few weeks? Uriel always hovering around. But none of the other lords liked you and the rumor was you’d murdered your brother. A vote of confidence.” She shrugged. “And then you were so uncomfortable with us and so obviously pining after a guard you never said an inappropriate word to, it was clear you weren’t going to pull the same shit.”

Though Aloise and Penny continued to talk for most of that day’s ride, Beau could only drag himself far enough out of the maelstrom of his thoughts to listen for short intervals, and to respond, even less. When they’d made camp, eaten a spartan dinner, and settled in for the night, Beau finally found the voice for his question.

“Pen?” When she made a small noise of acknowledgement, he asked, “Did I send Elias to his death for a brother I would’ve had killed anyway, if I’d actually known him?”

“You didn’t send Elias to his death, Beau,” she said, and though the words seemed intended to be reassuring, her tone was surprised, saddened. He could see the glitter of her eyes in the dark, the faint outline of the curve of her cheek.

She spoke gently. “Elias was dying of his injuries before he put that amulet on. He knew it; Vivienne knew it. I thought you knew. The amulet didn’t stop that. It just kept him moving.”

“Kept him alive.”

“No, Beau. No.” Gentle, so gentle, so sad, her voice. “He’s not…he’s not alive. He’s a revenant. All the amulet does is delay his body laying down to rest.”

Some part of Beau must’ve understood, because tears were running over the bridge of his nose, dripping onto the arm he’d folded under his head, but his mind refused to hear it. “He’s still fighting. Still talking. So I have time to fix this. To get him back.”

“Beau—”

“I’m magic. That’s what he said,” Beau said, voice breaking. “So I can get him back.”

Penny’s fingers found his cheek, brushed it gently. “He fought very hard to make you angry enough not to try that.”

“I don’t care .” He sniffed. “You study magic, right? So you must have a book about it?”

“I have hundreds, but—”

“Then I’ll find one that tells me how to get him back. I can do that. I can fix that.” He trusted me. He believed I was magic.

Penny said nothing more to dissuade him, just curled up in his arms and held him tightly, rubbing devastatingly comforting circles against his back. Beau tried not to let that sap him of the last of his hope.

“A nd you’re sure those are your men?” Beau kept his voice almost silent, since Penny could hear him easily with the Perception Stone tucked into her bodice. The late afternoon sun set the gold of her nose ring and earrings on fire.

She sent across a wave of quiet reassurance, then stepped out of the tree line with Nightbird. The Veritelutte sentries saw her at once and lowered pikes, but at her greeting, they relaxed again, bowing. After a quiet conversation, one took her horse’s reins and Penny held a hand out toward Beau, an offer for him and Aloise to join her.

Aloise strode out first, patting her roan and muttering, “See, boy? It’s fine.” Beau was not proud of how much willpower it took to emerge from his own hiding place in the trees.

The sentries didn’t recognize Beau, bowing their heads with a casual sort of deference for what must be a nobleman traveling with their lady before continuing their conversation with her. “Yes, those who are traveling have been assembling on the north end of the estate for the better part of two days. The dowager queen, her retinue, and the generals of her forces have been put up in the manor—”

“My—the queen is here?” Beau cut in. His mother was alive. That was a relief, even if it meant she’d betrayed him.

“Yes, my lord. Do you have business? I can have her informed of your arrival.”

Beau hesitated. “No…no, thank you.” He exchanged a glance with Penny, who squeezed his hand lightly before releasing him.

“Thank you, Master Denis. We’ll make our own way in.”

They handed their reins to the second sentry to be taken to the stables and strode through the colorful gardens of Penny’s manor grounds. As they neared, a small, dark-haired woman in a seafoam dress bounded out of glass-paneled double doors, squealing at the top of her lungs. When Penny saw her, she kicked up her own skirts and ran. The pair collided, hugging and spinning so aggressively they collapsed to the ground, laughing.

Feeling like an intruder, Beau approached at a statelier pace with Aloise at his shoulder.

“Gods, Vic, you’re lucky the tri-west aldermen have dragged their feet, or we’d have been on the road already,” the younger woman was saying, “but I was this close to hanging the three of them from the battlements by their bootlaces, I was so impatient.”

“I appreciate your restraint,” Penny said dryly. “Get up so I can introduce you to someone.”

“Someone?” Lianna scrambled to her feet and brushed off her skirt. Her head cocked to the side as she studied them briefly. “Is it the brother-in-law Uncle Alphonse keeps insisting is dead or the gorgeous woman whose name I need immediately? Hello, darling.” She held her hand out to Aloise, who gave a startled laugh before taking it and curtsying.

Penny smirked at Beau, then shook her head. “All right, fuck propriety, I suppose. Lady Lianna Penamour, this is Aloise…”

“Aloise Degland, my lady, and it’s an honor to meet you. I’m His Majesty’s guard.”

Lianna brushed a kiss across the back of Aloise’s hand, patted it, and then turned to Beau, eyes inscrutable. “So it is His Majesty, then. You look awfully lively for a dead man.”

“King Beauregard, very much alive, and hoping to stay that way with your sister’s help. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

Lianna said nothing, just stared at Penny with a look that communicated whole libraries of text Beau couldn’t decipher in the least. Beau’s wife laughed a little, low and uncomfortable, and said, “Yes, really. Let’s go inside. There’s much to discuss.”

“Do you want me to send for baths? No offense, uh, Your Majesties , but you smell like the horses dragged you here.” Lianna managed to make the titles sound both dryly sarcastic and completely suitable. He supposed he should’ve been offended, but he found Lianna’s energy infectious and delightful.

The sisters exchanged another glance, and Beau realized they wanted to talk without him. Fair enough; he supposed when they’d last spoken, Penny was planning to force a confession out of him and put him on a ship. “I could use a good scour before I see my mother again. I’d hate to hear what she has to say about the smell of sneaking here from the isles through every wood and swamp.”

Lianna drew up to a sudden stop. “Oh! Oh, gods. I’d completely forgotten that—Your Majesty, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” Beau said, hoping to forestall any further commiseration. His father’s death gave him a pit of guilt in his stomach, worrying that he wasn’t grieving as a son should.

Lianna nodded and continued, speaking with deceptive lightness about minor things around Veritelutte, which Penny responded to equally casually. Every now and then, a word or name was emphasized in ways Beau didn’t follow, but the sisters acknowledged each other’s arcane insinuations with quiet hmm s and occasional laugher.

As Beau was led to a mosaic-tiled room where steaming water filled a deep copper bath, he caught Penny’s eye and she smiled, sending warmth and calm and comfort in a wave. He smiled back and enjoyed a bath so hot it nearly peeled his skin from his bones.

He rebandaged his wounds and dressed in silence, for the first time in his life missing his staff. Uriel’s quiet competence, Aloise and Capucine’s cheerful chattering, and El—Beau’s stomach jerked, threatening vomit.

The stand-mirror in the corner showed him a tall man, reasonably broad in the shoulders, with dark hair growing too long in his eyes and an uncharacteristically gaunt, grief-shadowed face. His beard was overgrown, his clothes wrinkled from being shoved in travel bags. Not how Beau imagined a king.

He straightened, tugging the creases out of his shirt and rubbing a hand over his scruff. He pictured a crown on his head. The image felt ridiculous.

“Excuse me,” he said, sticking his head out and meeting a liveried man’s eyes. “Could you bring a shaving kit, please?”

“Of course, my lord,” the man said, bowing deeply. Word of who Beau was had not spread through the manor yet. “Right away.”

Minutes later, Beau wielded a freshly sharpened razor, soft-bristled brush, silky-foaming soap in a polished horn mug, and a matching pair of silver scissors and comb. He lingered over the basin, taking more care than normal over grooming. He trimmed his hair so it wouldn’t poke him in the eyes and fell more respectably over his brow. Stepping back from the mirror, he was pleased to see the process had dramatically improved his kingly perception.

When he donned his jacket, which had been hanging in the bath steam and lost a few of its deepest creases, he looked rather smart. Artifacts in his pockets, knife at his belt, wedding ring on his finger—all he lacked now was a crown.

He was led to the east wing, where the dowager queen had been given rooms. Beau tapped each fingertip against his thumb in turn again and again, practicing what he’d say to her. He hadn’t formed a coherent script when they reached the rosewood doors and the man asked Beau how he’d like to be announced.

“Uh…” Beau cleared his throat. “King Beauregard will do.”

The man’s eyes widened drastically, but he was too well-mannered to do other than say, “Yes, of course, Your Majesty.” He knocked, stepped in, and called the name in a clear voice.

“Beauregard?” His mother’s voice was confused, disbelieving. “I think you must be—”

Beau stepped in and Acier stumbled up out of her seat, sending the chair bouncing across the floor. “Beauregard! You—you’re—” Her eyes flicked to the servant. “Thank you, that will be all.”

As the man hastily bowed out, she breathed, “You’re alive.”

Beau waited for her to look relieved, to cross to hug him, to show any sign at all she was happy to see him. Her face had gone deathly pale, her lips compressed to a thin, anxious line. At her sides, her fingers plucked idly at the lacy overlay of her gown.

“Yes,” he said simply. “I’m sorry about Father.”

“Yes,” she said, swallowing and recovering her composure. She bent to right her chair and sit, letting the action hide her face. “A great tragedy, to lose the last of one’s family.”

“The last?” Beau said quietly, scanning the room for a seat and deciding he’d rather stand for this. “I still have a mother. You still have a son.”

“Yes, of course,” she said, looking down at the table as though chastened. “What are you doing here, Beauregard?” She looked up past him. “And where is Elias?”

Vomit threatened, and Beau swallowed repeatedly. “My guards were killed, along with many people of Leau, defending me from Lord Courdur’s attempt to assassinate me on the isles.”

“And you came out unscathed?”

He couldn’t understand her tone of voice. “No, certainly not.” His fingertips brushed against his hip, which ached. “But notably more alive than I would’ve been without their sacrifice. And significantly angrier than when I left.”

“Angrier?” She made a small, incredulous sound. “Hard to imagine. I suppose you’re making your escape over land instead of taking a ship? Risky, without guards. Or did you come to beg a few swords from the Penamours?”

“Interesting that you think I came to ask the Penamours for help and not you,” Beau said. “Did you bring no men with you?”

She cleared her throat, and he could see in sharp relief on her face her decision to lie. “I had quite enough challenge getting out of the palace with my own life, let alone an army. After your father’s death, things moved rather quickly.”

“I imagine they did,” Beau said. “What an impressive woman you are to have made it out to Veritelutte with an entire retinue and the—what was it the sentry said? ‘The generals of your forces’?”

Acier took a deep breath, chin lifting, eyelids dropping like shutters over her eyes until only the faintest glimmer of her irises were visible. Caught.

Beau shook his head, a faint exhalation alluding to a laugh. “You’re bracing yourself for me to ask for something. I shouldn’t have to ask. You’re my mother. You should’ve offered help.” He tucked his hands behind his back. “I should’ve heard about Father’s death from you, not from my enemies attacking me. You could’ve written, told me to come here. That you were here. That you were safe. Anything .”

She said nothing, every inch cold composure. Beau wanted to shake her. “Do you give a single shit about me? Have you ever?”

“Beauregard, don’t be vulgar,” she said dismissively.

Beau boiled over.

“There is a woman on Leaurepit who I’ve called Ma my entire adult life. She has fed me, housed me, worried for me, put me to work—she encouraged me into the man I am. You don’t even know her name because it never occurred to you to wonder if anyone was doing those things for your son, since you weren’t and never have,” Beau said, staring levelly at his mother.

“When men came to kill me, do you know what she did? She picked up kitchen knives, and she fought for me. She called her friends and neighbors to fight for me. To die for me. She risked everything she had to keep me safe and put me on the throne. My Ma.

“You and I, we’ve been given the gift of everything , every comfort and power and opportunity. Don’t you think it’s a fair exchange that as nobles, as royalty, we should be better than the common person? We should be kinder and stronger and braver, more honorable? More accountable. More generous.” Beau found his voice hardening until his words fell out like stones. “But here’s a common innkeeper, a woman with none of your power or luxuries—and she’s outdone you a thousand times over.”

Acier made a small sound in her throat, and though tears gathered in her eyes, they were cold, ice chips in a frozen sea. Beau stepped forward until he towered over her.

“I am your son, and I love you, no matter how ashamed I am of you, or you of me. I’ll see you protected from what’s coming with Lord Courdur. But I do demand of you this one maternal act: support me in securing my throne. It is mine , and Lord Courdur will not have it.”

She started to stand, but Beau took another step forward and she cringed back in her seat. She shook her head, something like derision twisting her mouth. “Beauregard, this is your opportunity to run. I’ll give you enough men to see you to a port, and you will leave. Granvallée will be in good hands—they need not be yours.”

“You already promised the men to Courdur.” Beau watched her face, saw the flinch.

“Lord Courdur is not an evil man, whatever you think. He’ll be a good king, and—”

“ I am king !” Beau shouted, quelling her. “Lord Courdur tried to kill your only remaining son . He is your enemy , or he should be! I’m not running, Mother, and I’m not giving up my throne to this usurper. I’ll have my crown, and I’ll have it with the help of your men.”

“If you do love me, as you say—as your mother, I’m asking you not to put me in this position.” The face she turned to him was unyielding, unsoftened by his words.

“Commit the men to me. All of them,” Beau said coldly, “or I’ll have you imprisoned.”

She shifted her jaw from side to side, watching his face. “I’m a guest of Lady Lianna Penamour,” she said, “and you’re a wanted man. You don’t have the power to have me imprisoned.”

Beau grinned, a horrible, humorless thing. He leaned down to press his hands against the table, putting his face level with hers.

“Actually, Queen Acier, you will find you’re now the guest of Lady Victoire Highput née Penamour. My wife . Her men are mine. This manor is mine, should I ask for it. And I have the power to do whatever the fuck I want with you.”

He wasn’t sure how to feel about the fear in her eyes. It wasn’t what he’d been looking for. He wanted a mother, not another noble to strongarm into doing his bidding. But it was slightly validating, having the muscle. He turned to leave. “Think about it. I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow, and we can discuss your decision.”

P enny and Lianna looked up, conversation cutting off abruptly, when he entered the sitting room. Lianna studied him, taking in his freshly groomed face and clean clothes, and a smirk broke across her mouth. “Okay. I get it now.”

Pen shot her sister a silencing look as Beau asked, “Get what?”

Lianna laughed secretively. “I’m glad you availed yourself of a bath and shears. Anything else I can provide? Dinner will be here in the next few minutes. Since Vic called for a stay on our march, I had the cooks unpack some of the better food.”

“A few thousand good soldiers would really hit the spot right now,” Beau said lightly, lowering himself into a seat at the round tea table. His hip and thigh howled at him, despite how gingerly he sat. When he shifted, his stitches pulled horribly.

Penny’s little sister tapped her fingers against her lower lip, amusement glimmering in her dark eyes. “I’ll have to see if the cooks have any prepared.”

As Penny reached over to flatten his chest bandage more neatly, tugging his collar straight, Beau asked, “Have you successfully persuaded your sister that you’re not possessed, mind-controlled, or otherwise under duress?”

Penny glared good-naturedly at Lianna. “We resolved that sufficiently, yes. We were just discussing how very good your position is looking currently.”

Eyebrows shooting up, Beau said, “Oh?”

The door opened to admit a stream of servants bearing trays of food, goblets, and carafes. When they’d arrayed it on the table and bowed out, Lianna said, “To be honest, Beauregard—I can call you that, can’t I? Seeing as you’re my brother now and all? I was very firmly your adversary until about an hour ago. It may seem strange that that’s a good thing, but it is.”

Beau sliced ham, laying some on each of their plates silently while he waited for her to continue. Lianna smiled rather smugly as she poured herself a glass of wine. She seemed to enjoy the drama of dragging it out. “You see, when news of your father’s death broke, Lord Courdur reached out immediately to the three families most loyal to him and asked for our support: the Penamours, the Abadies, and the Tivelyns. I knew Vic’s theories about you, so it was an easy yes to Courdur.”

Beau’s face fell. Lord Abadie and Lord Tivelyn controlled the two counties within Chudeau—his father’s duchy. His duchy, now. All the men he’d hoped to have in the capital were in those two men’s hands. He realized Lianna was waiting for a response. “ Easy yes to supplanting the rightful king? Not a great vote of confidence.”

“Actually, it’s a significant vote of confidence—for my sister,” Lianna said. “The Abadies and Tivelyns awaited our answer. When we swung for Courdur, so did they.”

“So,” Beau said, meeting Lianna’s eyes as her brows rose significantly, “now that Penny’s married and declared for me…”

“ That changes nothing on the surface, yet . We’ll bring the other families around, but it will mean Vic reaching out to each of them herself.”

“They’ll have received my letters from the isles,” Penny said, reaching over to rest her hand on Beau’s. “But now that I know the lay of the land, I can be more direct. It’s clear Courdur was expecting to depend heavily on Chudeau’s men. At least a third of his are still at the border.”

Beau nodded, staring into his wine as he swirled it. “He’s expecting to have most of his own men, yours, the Abadies’, the Tivelyns’, and my mother’s. So if you’re successful—and my mother answers the way I hope she does tomorrow—we’ll steal the better part of his forces out from under him.”

“See?” Lianna said, grinning. “Your position is good.”

“ If you can convince the Abadies and Tivelyns. If my mother commits her men to me. If any of the Houses I wrote to show up for me. If I can get anyone from Verdmont here in time. If the Macabries don’t elect to join Courdur against me and the Lamonts don’t try to stop you marching your men through Estforet to the capital. Quite a lot of variables.”

“What do you mean, if your mother commits her men to you?” Lianna asked. She ignored Penny’s quiet warning murmur of Lili , continuing, “I assumed the only reason she handed them to Courdur in the first place was because you were supposed to be dead. And I guess because she used to be an Abadie, so she sided with them. Not worth it to die on principle when there’s no winning. Now that you’re alive…?”

With an uncomfortable lift of his shoulders, Beau contemplated how to explain something he didn’t understand himself. “My mother had a favorite son. It wasn’t me.” He winced; that wasn’t what he wanted Lianna to take away from the conversation. “She assumed when my father died, I’d run. She was wrong, but she had reason to believe it.”

“Now that you’ve shown you aren’t running, though?”

She hates me, Lianna. Eyes fixed on the table, he said, “As you said, not worth it to stand on principle when there’s no point. If it’d just been me, she definitely wouldn’t have supported me. But since I married the most powerful woman in Granvallée, I may not be a lost cause. That will be the deciding point.”

Lianna sat back in her seat, brows high and mouth downturned. “Cold.”

“I suppose royalty doesn’t get to be sentimental,” Beau said, feeling an inexplicable urge to defend his mother’s choices.

His sister-in-law sparked up, voice raised. “I hope to hell you don’t actually think that. Sentiment is all that’s going to win you the throne, Your Majesty. Do you know how much easier it would be for us to just kill you? How many favors we’ll have to pull in to bring the Abadies and Tivelyns to your side? How much goodwill we’re burning with our own family—the Courdurs are our mother’s people! You got married in the middle of nowhere: it would be nothing to throw your body in a ditch and pretend it never happened, announcements were fake. We’re supporting you because Vic loves you, and that’s it , Beauregard. If you mean to be as cold as your mother in exchange, I’ll kill you for a tyrant, make no mistake.”

Penny hastily reached out to grip Lianna’s arm, but he spoke first. “If I become a tyrant, Lianna, you have my full permission to stake me through the heart. I’m immensely grateful for your help. I won’t forget it.”

“Lili,” Penny said, “there’s no one I know who adheres more closely to the precepts of taking care of those who care for you. Honestly. You’ll see.”

Lianna’s dark eyes cored him like an apple. She ignored her sister’s remarks entirely. “I’ll hold you to that, Your Majesty.”

“At knife-point, I’m sure,” he said, a grin tugging at his mouth as he nodded to the blade peeking out from her sleeve.

She nodded seriously, then speared a hunk of ham on her fork and popped it into her mouth. They ate for a while in silence, the sisters exchanging occasional glances. Beau got the distinct impression that they were somehow fighting with one another, though none of the looks that passed were especially angry or intense. He poured himself a second glass of wine and vanished it down his throat too quickly for polite company.

As he polished off the last of his food, he said, “Pen, those magic books?” He tried not to beg; it wasn’t very kingly. But the urge to find some way to draw Elias back to him, to remove the amulet, to fix what was broken crawled maddeningly under his skin, made it feel claustrophobic to be doing anything else.

She nodded and wiped her mouth, swallowing her last mouthful, but Lianna was faster. “I’ll walk him to the library. You need a bath, Vic, and I need to chat with my new brother.”

“Do not kill my husband. I’m rather fond of him,” Penny said sternly, kissing her sister on the cheek.

Lianna looped her arm through his to pull him along the hall, and Beau snuck glances down at the small woman, trying to get the measure of her. “We’re taking the long way,” she said as they emerged into the cool gardens, now growing dark, “so you can answer the questions for me Vic wouldn’t answer properly.”

He laughed uncomfortably. “All right.”

“What happened to your lover?” When Beau’s step faltered but he said nothing, she pressed, “The pretty boy everyone was talking about? Good fighter? Macabrie wanted to buy him? What happened to him? Because the way people were talking, I assumed you didn’t even want a wife, and here you are with my sister, theoretically besotted. I want to know what happened to the other man.”

Beau stopped, stomach churning, and Lianna planted herself in front of him. She crossed her arms and stared, implacable.

He opened his mouth, but he couldn’t bear to repeat the same thing he’d said to his mother, that his guards all died on the isles, to summon that. Bile burned at the back of his throat. “He—he’s—”

Her attention was too sharp. Beau turned half away, shaking his head. “I can’t talk about him, Lianna. I love your sister, I have immense respect for her, and I will take care of her. She’s my wife; she’s my future.”

The small woman’s expression softened. “That’s pretty much what Vic said when I asked her. Did he die?”

Beau squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “They’re all telling me yes, but he doesn’t feel dead to me. That’s why I need the magic library.” Something else tried to claw its way up his throat, a sob or a gag or more answer. A small hand took his arm.

“I’m really sorry,” Lianna said. “The library’s all yours, if it’ll help you get answers. Or…closure. But Vic is the best person I know. I need to know you’re not treating her like a second choice.”

The king didn’t trust his voice. He shook his head seriously, and Lianna squeezed his arm. “Good. Tell me what you love about her while we walk.”

“Is this a test?” he asked hoarsely, trying to summon a smirk.

“Absolutely,” Lianna said, smiling teasingly, though her eyes were sad. She looked so much like Penny, but her eyes were lighter than her sister’s, faintly greenish, and her face was quicker to change, flicking from expression to expression.

Beau cleared his throat. “She’s brilliant. Always curious. She says what needs to be said, asks good questions. She—” He breathed an almost-laugh. “She somehow managed to call me an ass and also say some of the kindest things anyone has ever said to me in the same breath. She’s compassionate, she’s funny, obviously she’s beautiful.” He shrugged. “Everything. It was always going to be her. It couldn’t have been anyone but her.”

Lianna looped her arm through his and laughed. “You missed a few attributes,” she said, “but I’ll say you passed for now. You said brilliant first, which is good—that means you know better than to ignore her advice. She could run circles around you politically.”

“Don’t I know it,” Beau said. He squinted down at one of the flowerbeds. “You grow so many tulips here.”

“Yes, they were my father’s favorite, and we’ve kept to the tradition of growing them in the Penamour family gardens. I don’t know if you know flower language, but tulips stand for—”

“—familial love. Unconditional.” Beau smiled. “Penny told me. They’re beautiful.”

He patted Lianna’s arm, enjoying the ferocious, bright energy she put off. “I’m glad she has you, Lianna, and Natalie too. A tulip kind of family is something special.”

“You don’t have to sound so envious, Beauregard,” she said, elbowing him teasingly in the ribs as she released him. “You have a tulip family now, too. Are you as obsessed with dusty old magic stuff as Vic is? Because if so, you’re going to like this library.”

“I’ve always been fascinated by it. I wish I’d spent more time on it, but there wasn’t much in the isles. A whole library just about magic must be…” Wonder lit in him.

“Ugh, you sound almost as excited as Vic. You two are made for each other. The library’s just up here. I’ll leave you to get to know all the ancient mages she obsessed over growing up. Just close the door before you have a wank over them, okay?”

Beau laughed, shoving her a step away from him. Being around her made him wish he’d grown up with a sister. He’d thought he understood what having more siblings would be like, but this was infinitely better than he’d imagined.

Later that night, a knock as he settled into the deliciously comfortable bed and watched his wife brush her hair brought a folded note. The outside had been formally addressed to King Beauregard Mylan Adelard Tristan, but it was unsealed. Inside, three simple lines in his mother’s handwriting:

My men are yours. I will not be receiving visitors for the remainder of my time in Veritelutte, as I am in mourning. When you no longer have need of them, my men will escort me to Corinon, where I will retire. —Queen Acier

“What does she say?” Penny asked as she slid into bed next to him, snuggling in against his chest. “Do I have to imprison my mother-in-law?”

Beau pulled her tighter, breathed in her hair. He tossed the note on the bedside table and blew out the lamp. “No. She said her men are mine and she never wants to see me again.”

Penny’s wash of concern drew a hollow sort of happiness out of him. “It’s all right,” he said, kissing her hair, her forehead, her lips. “I have a tulip family now.”