"Three times that I recall," Sir Weston said.
"Five, at least," Lord Ashley said, noisily dragging a chair in our direction. "The queen's line is a bloodthirsty lot."
I blinked, staring at my lap and imagining the pattern of blood on my fingers I'd worn after slitting Emory's throat.
"Gregory, watch your tongue. Excuse him, Your Highness," Douglas said, glaring at his friend.
"My family does have a remarkable history on the battlefield," I said calmly. "Although I was unaware of such a pattern between princesses."
"There's been no outright declaration or notation, Your Highness. Just a tendency toward sudden illness taking away one of the heirs," Sir Weston said, but he grimaced in acknowledgment of the obvious implication.
And my grandmother's sudden illness? I glanced at Aric, who was already looking back, and he nodded briefly. He knew exactly what needed to be learned when we arrived in the south.
"The council has remarked on my own sister's ability to rule, should my mother choose to pass succession over me," I said, turning back to the gentlemen. "I would not object to any choice my mother might make, but I do have my concerns about Camellia."
"To be frank, Your Highness, I have not seen any intent from the queen's line to ensure such equality and care of the people of Kimmery until I met you. If this promising interest of yours was missing from your sister, it wouldn't be a surprise to me," Sir Weston said.
"I believe Camellia would certainly be happy to let the council carry on as they have been," I said. I turned to look at Wendell, who dipped his head at me in agreement. "That's not my only concern, however. There are…rumors regarding my sister."
And here was the real goal of the evening.
"Have you heard of Paul Kent?" Daniel asked the men softly.
Douglas frowned and shook his head, Sir Weston remained watching me, and it was Lord Ashley who drew a sudden breath.
"Jeremy Kent's son? Ah, indeed, the one the young princess wrung out like an old rag. And not the only one from what I've heard," Lord Ashley said with a dark chuckle.
Owen's fingers squeezed around mine. Here it was. The one concrete crime we could possibly prove against Camellia.
"I had not heard there were others," I said softly, leaning forward to catch Lord Ashley's glazed gaze. "It is my hope something might be done for the men. Some kind of justice."
"Oh, there'll be no justice for Thomas Gensley, Your Highness. He killed himself as soon as he was strong enough to finish the act."
My blood chilled, but there was a strange kind of energy running through me too. Another name. Another man my sister had harmed, and this time so thoroughly… And now I needed to pull Lord Ashley's threads and see what else fell out.
Cresswell touched my arm just outside of the room I was sharing with Aric and Cosmo, and I ushered them in ahead of me.
"Come walk outside with me?" Cresswell said.
It was the dead of night, the ugly conversation from the study wandering late into the evening before we'd all learned too much to be able to stomach another word. I was glad Cosmo had been entertaining the women instead, had missed the chilling claims Lord Ashley made against my sister. He was the only one of us wearing a smile as we'd said goodbye to the two older couples, and Sir Weston and I had exchanged a grave and dangerous glance.
I looked into the dark bedroom, and Aric nodded at me. "Go on, princess. Get some fresh air. You can sleep in the carriage tomorrow."
Cresswell's hand slid to mine, and together we tiptoed back down the stairs, his eyes seeing through the dark halls better than my own. He led us toward the back left of the house, through the kitchens, and out into a small courtyard with lines strung up to a post, waiting for tomorrow's laundry.
"Why outside?" I whispered.
"Being out of doors calms me and I…" He trailed off, looking back over his shoulder at me.
"And you calm me," I said, squeezing my fingers around his hand.
The moon was full, although shrouded behind thin clouds, creating an almost lamp-like glow above us, just enough light to see our way into the trees.
"You've been so low since you got that letter from your mother. Not that I'm surprised. Except I don't think it's just your grandmother's illness upsetting you," Cresswell said, pulling me closer. I leaned gratefully into his warm side as we walked, smiling as his arm draped around my shoulders.
"I thought I went to the north to discover the truth about Kimmery, and I suppose myself, but now I wonder if I wasn't hiding there."
"If you hadn't been in the north, the legislation against shifters would've passed."
I nodded.
"And Aric might be dead," Cresswell said.
My heart panged at just the thought, and I slid my own arm around Cresswell's waist to clutch at his side.
"I would be in the army."
I stopped, and Cresswell stopped with me. The shadow of the house was broken by the trees around us, and we were entirely alone but for the soft activity of the woods. I turned to face him, and his hands moved to my shoulders. This was the first time we were really alone together since he'd kissed me, and the distraction of passion was tempting in the moment. The Hunger wasn't really present, chased away by the disturbing evening, and I couldn't decide if that made me shy or more eager to take advantage of being alone with this man.
One of Cresswell's rough hands moved up to my throat, tipping my head back, and I was sure he would kiss me again.
"What would you say to the idea of purchasing a boat?" he asked.
My lips parted, and my mind went blank with confusion. "A boat?"
"Mm. Large enough for the others, I suppose. And we all got aboard and…left."
"Left Kimmery?"
Cresswell nodded, the tiniest curl in the corner of his lips, but his brow furrowed with a frown. "I worry for what comes next, Bryony. I can guard you physically, but I can't protect you from the sacrifices and decisions you'll have to make to become queen."
I released a weak and wobbling sigh, and Cresswell's arms circled me as I leaned into his chest, so solid he could take all my weight and weariness in the embrace. "I know," I said, turning my cheek against the dense wool of his uniform. "But I can't leave shifters to be enslaved and magic to be trampled and…and whatever Camellia might make of the Hunger or of Kimmery."
Cresswell grunted, unsurprised, and his head bowed, warm breath cascading over the top of my head. "You would've made a very daring pirate."
I barked a laugh against his chest and leaned back in his hold, turning my face up to his. "What an idea! I shall have to make a daydream of it when things get very bad."
Cresswell frowned, and I regretted reminding him of what was coming, so instead I rose to my toes, pressing my lips to his. My hands reached up between us to hold his jaw, ignoring the way he stiffened at the first touch of the kiss and waiting for his acceptance. It came with a low note in his throat, something between a growl and a groan, and his arms tightened around my waist.
I sighed as Cresswell returned the kiss, his tongue sweeping across the seam of my mouth and then his lips sliding apart to fit against mine.