Raesinia nodded. “That’s why I was staying at Twin Turrets.”

“That explains a lot.”

“It does? Like what?”

“I was starting to think he was in love with you.”

Raesinia missed a step, stumbling slightly over a loose flagstone.

“But in a creepy, worshipping sort of way, you know?” Andy went on, without pausing. “The way he treats you so carefully. But this makes more sense.”

“I suppose it does.” First Viera, now Andy. Why is everyone suddenly obsessed with Marcus’ love life?

“What about Uhlan?” Andy said.

“I think he knows, but he’s never mentioned anything.” The Mierantai lieutenant was still abed, but according to Mrs. Felda wasn’t in serious danger. They’d had to haul him to the church on two lengths of board after ditching the carriage in an empty yard. “Cora knows, too. But no one else. Obviously, I’m going to need you to keep quiet about it.”

“Obviously. Your Majesty.” Andy grinned at Raesinia’s warning glance. “Sorry. But you really lived up in the palace?”

“All my life.”

“That must have been a nice life,” Andy said, with a wistful sigh. “Good food, people waiting on you hand and foot, nothing to do but . . . what do princesses do all day?”

“Not a lot, it turns out. I spent a lot of time reading, or studying with my father when he wasn’t ill.”

“Your father . . .” Andy paused. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.”

“It’s so strange to think of the king as . . . well, as a man. With a family. As opposed to just a beard with a crown that gets stamped on coins.”

“I wish more people could have known him like that,” Raesinia said, a lump forming in her throat. “I don’t know if he was a good king. I suppose not, given how things have turned out. But he was always a good father. After my brother died . . . it took a lot out of him.”

There was another awkward pause. Andy pointed to a café, its colorful banner showing a crane in flight against a setting sun. The cloth snapped in the stiff, chilly breeze.

“Is that the place?” she said.

“Looks like it,” Raesinia said.

“I don’t understand why Janus wouldn’t tell Marcus where this Willowbrook place is. Or tell you, for that matter. If he can’t trust you, then what’s the point?”

“Operational security,” Raesinia said, parroting Sothe. “People should know only what they need to. Less chance of someone giving something away by accident, or under torture.”

“Under torture?” Andy shook her head. “Janus must be a cheery guy.”

“He takes things seriously.”

They reached the front door of the café. It was nearly empty; a trio of old men huddled against a long wooden counter were the only customers. Raesinia looked over the abandoned tables, all bare and gleaming with chairs neatly pushed in.