The Born Queen - J. Gregory Keyes [26]
“A Church I have stripped of authority in my kingdom,” she pointed out. “Of temporal authority, yes,” Artwair said. “But this is different. Here you are definitely stepping into the realm of the sacred.”
Anne shrugged. “So be it. The Church abused the boundaries first, not me.”
“I don’t understand,” Cazio said.
Anne turned to him. “This monastery is committed to Saint Mamres, the bloody saint of war,” she said. “His faneway is here. As we control it now, the Church will be making no new warrior-monks. And indeed, perhaps I will make a few of my own.”
Artwair’s face was still red, but the expression on it was turning thoughtful.
“It’s an interesting idea,” he said, “but a dangerous one. Forget the ire of the Church—”
“Done,” Anne pronounced.
“Well. Forget it, then. But you aren’t the first worldly ruler to try this, you know. Twenty years ago, Marhgreft Walis bribed the monks to let his bodyguard walk this faneway.”
“And?”
“There were ten of them. Seven died walking it. Another went mad immediately.”
“And the other two?”
“Were very good bodyguards. But the sacrifice—”
“Even bribed, I expect, the monks were loath to give up the power they guarded,” Anne said. “I imagine they neglected to mention some sacaum or such that needed doing. We have a few of them to question on the matter, so we won’t be missing any information.”
“I’m just urging caution, Majesty.”
“I know. But the enemy has Mamres monks and knights that cannot die and other monsters in number. I feel we need some of the same benefits.”
“Nor do I dispute it. Just be cautious.”
“I shall. And then I shall return to Eslen, I promise you, Cousin.”
Artwair left, and Cazio stayed close on his heels, looking more than a little relieved to be leaving her presence. She poured herself more wine, took a swallow, and went to the window.
“What have I done?” she whispered to the faintly visible evening star. She closed her eyes, but lightning seemed to flash there and made her mind busy. Her body was humming head to toe with desire.
She and Austra had been best friends for all of her life. She loved her like a sister and in a moment had betrayed her.
She wasn’t entirely stupid. She’d known her feelings for Cazio had been changing these last few months. Despite her first impressions of him, he’d proved more reliable and noble than any knight she had ever known with the possible exception of Neil MeqVren. He was also handsome, amusing, and intelligent.
And Austra’s now. She’d tried to keep that firmly in her mind. But Austra should have known better, shouldn’t she? Austra knew what Anne felt before she did. Austra, her best friend, had snapped up the swordsman before Anne could sort out her own feelings.
“What sort of friend is that?” she wondered aloud.
She knew that she probably wasn’t being completely fair, but who was there to hear her?
Austra had no place in a fighting force and had proved that by getting injured on their first ride against the gallows of Brithwater. Nothing serious, but she’d sent her back to Eslen. These last few weeks, without her maid around, she’d felt that something was happening between her and the swordsman, something inevitable.
And when he’d kissed her back, she’d been really happy, like a girl again, ready to forget her duties, the coming war, the strange things happening in her mind and body as she gained more and more command of the powers Saint Cer had given her.
But no, he’d been surprised, and he’d remembered Austra very quickly, and so she had been wrong about their growing closer.
How foolish that must seem to him, and how intolerable to seem foolish.
And how tiring, how very tiring, to be still a virgin. Maybe she should have someone she didn’t give a fig about fix that for her and then have him exiled or beheaded or something so that she could see what the fuss was about. Austra knew well enough, didn’t she? Because of Cazio.
She shook that away. With all that was going on in her kingdom—in the world—didn’t she have better things to worry about? If Eslen fell, if the dark forces