Indu had confessed that he’d tracked Orra down and killed her. But that I believed, since she hadn’t been seen or heard from in nineteen years. And from what I remembered of Indu torturing me, I wouldn’t put it past him to murder the woman who crossed him.

But I had no idea how much—if any—of that I should tell Bodil, especially considering how angry and eccentric she seemed.

“After much searching, I have come to agree with your assessment that Orra is dead,” I answered carefully.

“It’s as I said, then,” she said, but surprisingly, she didn’t appear happy to be proven right, nor saddened about the death of her cousin. “Perhaps you’ll learn to trust the wisdom of a queen.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to doubt you,” I said. I hated how slavish I sounded, but Bodil wasn’t someone I wanted to upset.

“Is it true that you’re traveling with Bryn Aven?” she asked.

I held my head up slightly. “I am.”

“Hmmm,” she mused. “One should always be prudent in the company they keep.”

Before I could respond, the door to the parlor burst open and a gangly young boy rushed in, whining, “Mamma!”

“Furston, we have guests,” she lightly rebuked him, but he appeared nonplussed.

Furston looked about eight or nine years old, with an unwieldy head of dark curls nearly covering his eyes. His height was hard to gauge, since he walked slightly hunched, and he wore a sleep tunic that barely covered his torso, leaving all of his wiry limbs exposed.

“It’s past story time,” he lamented with a passing glance in my direction.

Bodil’s harsh expression softened, and she gave her son a smile of genuine apology. He stood a foot away from her, so she leaned forward and took his hand. “I’ll be a little while longer, my love.”

He scowled down at her hand, and for a moment, I thought he’d snatch his away, but he didn’t. “But Mamma, I’m tired now.”

“Go lie down, and I’ll be up shortly.”

“Why not now?” He glared back over his shoulder at me. “Why are they here so late? This isn’t the proper time for the palace to have visitors.”

“You’re right, it is late.” The Queen’s smile was pained, and she looked to me and Elof. “I’ve kept you long enough, and I have the Crown Prince to attend to.”

She stood up, so Elof immediately got to his feet, and I scrambled to do the same.

“I trust you can find your way out yourself,” she said, still holding Furston’s hand.

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Elof bowed, and as Bodil and her son walked by, he reached out and boldly put his hand on Furston’s shoulder. “It was truly an honor meeting you, Young Sire.”