That was the chance event that brought Delivegu to the queen’s offices and had him standing before Rhrenna, so pleased with himself that he felt no need to rush to answer her. He would not be describing the circumstances of the encounter in detail, nor discussing the rather troublesome time he had had escaping the royal quarters later that night. He would, however, offer information he would claim to have gleaned from his ever-reliable “sources.” It would be easy enough to lay the information on one of Mena’s maids, someone who might have chanced upon the eggs, and might have told someone else, who might have told … that sort of thing.

“For what reason do you want an audience with the queen?” Rhrenna asked, repeating the question for a third time. She kept her voice clipped and her gray Meinish eyes cold, but Delivegu knew better.

His smile was an unwavering crescent, and his talent for talking through it long practiced. “Rhrenna, now that I’m a man in high standing I feel inclined to boldness. When, my darling, will you consent to get to know me better? Privately, I mean. Just you and me. Wine perhaps. Good food and a place of comfort to retire to? That sort of thing.”

Rhrenna studied him a moment before answering. “Don’t you mean that question for the queen?”

“Ah—” He had not expected that. It set him back a moment, wondering if the fact that she asked it indicated the queen had spoken to her about it, or that she intuited the queen would be receptive. “Ah … what man could fail to find her highness a great beauty? I’m no different. But the queen would have no interest in me, certainly.” Though the sentence was declarative, he left it dangling, loose ended, and rather sounding like a question. Rhrenna’s answer was franker than he wished for.

“You don’t stand a chance,” she said. “Enjoy your lecherous thoughts of her in private, Delivegu. That’s the only way you’ll find satisfaction. I mean no insult, though. I’m of the opinion that no man except Aaden—when he becomes a man—will ever get near the queen’s heart.”

“And what of you, then? Would you ever try me?”

“Try you?” Rhrenna laughed. “Oh, you’re a charmer, Delivegu. Try you …” She spun away and resumed perusing the papers on her desk.

Well, that didn’t go that well, he thought. He was preparing a witty remark, something to brush her off and indicate no acknowledged harm to his sensualist’s casual demeanor, when she continued.

“Yes, I imagine I would try you,” she admitted. Her eyes rose to meet his. “I think you smell rather good.”

Never had the mention of his bodily odor been such an invigorating kick in the groin. She did not let him linger on it at present, though. “Again,” she said, her voice resuming its official curtness, “for what reason do you wish an audience with the queen? If you don’t answer me now, you’ll have to leave.”