Claiming Her

“Aodh!” Katarina whirled to him, shocked. “This is my queen!” She whirled back, dropped to a knee, and bent her head. “Your Majesty, I humbly beg your forgiveness for any and all errors I have made, and they are many. I have served you faithfully for all my life, until very, very recently, and for that, I would explain. Explain my actions, and my wherefores, and set it all before you, to decide as you see fit. And”—she bent her head farther—“if needed, beg you for my husband’s life.”

“Not your own?” the queen said drily.

Katarina shook her head at the ground. “No. And I do not beg for my own sake, Your Majesty. I beg it for your sake, and Ireland’s.

“Do you indeed?” The queen leaned down and with a slim finger, tipped Katarina’s face up. She looked her over a moment, then said briskly, “And what happened to your face? Do not tell me Bertrand again.”

“If I may not say Bertrand, my lady, I have naught to say.”

A hardening along the queen’s jaw. She made an impatient gesture. “Get up, get up, and tell me your story, give me your pleas.”

Katarina scrambled up, tossing Aodh a single, incomprehensible glance, which he was fairly certain was a silent plea. But he left this matter to Katy, for she had her own things to settle with the queen, and Bess would not thank him for interfering.

Katarina glanced over her shoulder at Aodh, but he was of no help. Accursed man. He stood lazily, one shoulder pressed against the wall, seemingly perfectly content to let her and the queen have their moment. But, she noticed his hand hung near the hilt of his sword, in all a pose of ease, but as always, Aodh was as relaxed as a predator.

“I don’t know what Aodh has been telling you…” she said warily, seeing as Aodh had just told the queen she was prickling with weapons.

“Much,” said the queen, and the dryness of her reply brought Katarina’s gaze back around.

“But I have always been loyal to you, my lady.”

“That appears to be precisely what is under debate.”

“I could not let it happen again, Your Majesty,” she said bluntly. “As it did to my father.”

The queen’s gaze narrowed on her, then turned away. Indeed, the queen turned entirely away and picked up a wine cup that sat atop a decorated wardrobe. The scene was a fresh and lively rendering of sheep and other creatures—nymphs?—cavorting in a green meadow. The queen’s hand rested atop the wardrobe, but her fingers curled tightly over the top, into the hair of the nymphs. “I have long regretted your father’s choices, Katarina. He was a good man.”

“Yes, he was, my lady.”

The queen’s face came a quarter turn in her direction. “His loss was…deeply felt.”

“Yes,” Katarina agreed, “it was.”

Elizabeth continued to stare out the window.

Katarina took a step toward her. “I am sorry for all that has come before, Your Majesty.”

The queen’s eyebrows winged up. “What have you to be sorry for in what has come before? Your guilt lies only what is now before us.”

“If you would but hear me out…”

The queen made a small sound but didn’t stop her. Katarina glanced toward Aodh. Pale-eyed and dark-haired, he smiled faintly and tilted his battered face in the direction of the queen. Go, speak to her.

She closed her eyes and took another step closer to the woman who had been her father’s doom, who might well be Aodh’s doom. And her own.

“This has not gone at all how I planned, Your Majesty,” she said. “I have been chatelaine of Rardove for many years, at your goodwill and command, holding the line but never extending it, for I am not favored as you.”

Elizabeth’s thin eyebrows rose. “Favored?”

“You are beloved, my lady, as well you should be. Everyone bows before you, even Spain. Look to the recent Armada.”

The queen made an impatient gesture. “A storm favored me.” She turned back to the window. Moonli

ght made the tiny panes glow in thick, mottled green light. “I am not so foolish as to believe anything else.”

Then, for the first time, Aodh spoke, from his perch against the wall. “But it did favor you, Bess. You are favored. As great rulers must be to succeed.”

The queen waved her hand. “God’s grace, do not you begin to flatter me too, Aodh. The world is already turned on its head.”