She changed into clothing suitable for the queen and went down the corridor with an attendant. It wasn’t far.

The concern, it emerged, with no preamble, had to do, again, with the Duke de Barratin. Her view was solicited. She framed her reply as a question, always wisest with Queen Bianca.

“Should the king have replied to Barratin’s plea to be allowed back?” Marina asked. They were alone.

“It wasn’t a plea, his majesty told me.”

Something in the tone of that.

“You…haven’t read the letter?”

“There have been two, I am informed. No.”

Terse. It was clearly a troublesome point. The queen was standing by a tall window, her back to the room and to Marina. She had been reading a friend’s poetry earlier, and now there was…this. It would be a lie to say it was not exciting.

Women, she thought, needed always to fight for any impact they might want to have. In the world. In their own lives. Even a queen who had led in governing the country while the king was mad. And now the king was not mad, for which they all gave thanks, but…

But she had not been shown the letters.

There was something else. She was going to have to ask, Marina realized. She had been part of the queen’s circle long enough to know. And to know there were risks.

Life was a risk.

She said, “What else, your grace? What is troubling you?”

Queen Bianca turned. Looked at her. Even before she spoke, Marina felt a tremor of apprehension.

“We have received word. Barratin is moving this way with an army. Not just his guards.”

Life, Marina thought again, was a risk. It was laden with them.

She said, quietly, “That doesn’t sound like a man pleading to be admitted to court.”

“No,” said the queen. “It does not.”

“What…what does the king intend to do?” She was frightened now.

“Raise the army. He has little choice. He’s summoned the constable and the dukes. I think they’ll plan to meet Barratin east of here.”

“Civil war, then?”

“Yes.” One word.

Marina said, cautiously, “Do you want to summon Gauvard Colle?”

The queen had a way of glancing up to one side when she was thinking. She did so now. Then she looked back at Marina and shook her head. “I need to know more first. But I am not sure I am going to be told more.” A pause. “The king would never do it, I don’t think. Nor Robbin de Vaux. Codes of honour. But…”

Another pause. This one inviting her.

You had no choice, with such an invitation.

“But?” said Marina di Seressa.

Queen Bianca looked at her. A cold glance. Her father in Macera was said to be a cold, hard man. “But,” said the queen of Ferrieres, “I think the Duke de Barratin needs to be killed.”