The Born Queen - J. Gregory Keyes [40]
The wine was often undrinkably sweet, especially the white, and so far he hadn’t found much to like about beer or mead, which tasted to him like rotted bread and bear piss, respectively. Not that he had tasted bear piss, but now he didn’t have to.
Sir Robert’s meal did not set itself above the standard, but Cazio managed to fill himself without any unpleasant incidents. He didn’t feel much like talking, so he watched Anne, trying to gauge her mood. He had known her for more than a year and in many trying circumstances, but he had never known her to be so suddenly changeable as in these last few days.
But she seemed at ease, chatting with Sir Robert and the guests he had invited. The anger and remorse of the morning seemed forgotten.
And so, feeling heavy with the sweet wine, he excused himself to the chamber provided for him and lay there, wishing he were drunk on a better vintage, wishing for other things.
He was nearly asleep when the door cracked open. Blinking, he saw Anne’s face in the candlelight, and with a guilty start he realized that one of his wishes had come true. He opened his mouth to attempt another denial, but the words glued themselves there.
“Cazio?”
“Majesty.”
“Just Anne, for the moment,” she said.
“Ah,” he managed. “Anne.” How was it he once had felt comfortable saying her name?
“Don’t worry,” she said, “I haven’t come to test your virtue again. May I enter?”
“Of course.”
He was still in his clothes, but he somehow felt he ought to cover himself.
She stepped in, shuffled her feet another half step, and stopped.
“I was wrong to ask you to walk the faneway, Cazio. I want you to know I understand. There are so many people around me I don’t really know, much less trust. But I trust you. Today you’ve only proved that I can trust you to protect me, even against myself.”
“I’m glad you understand.”
She nodded, and something odd worked behind her eyes. She cleared her throat softly. “So,” she said. “I need you to go to Dunmrogh.”
Cazio blinked, wondering what he had missed. His king’s tongue was still not so good.
“Dunmrogh.”
“Yes. I want you to take a garrison there to guard the fane. I want you to command it.”
“I don’t understand,” Cazio said. “I’m not a commander. I’m a swordsman, that’s all.”
“You’re a swordsman I trust,” she said.
“To guard you,” he said.
“I have my Sefry,” she said. “And the Craftsmen.”
“Mamres knights.”
“Two or three of them might make one of you,” she said. “But I shall have to make do.”
“This doesn’t make sense to me,” he said. Was she trying to shame him into walking the faneway?
“It’s only for a while,” Anne said. “I know you’ll miss Austra, but I’ll send her to be with you. I know you want to guard me. But I’m asking you, as my friend, to do this.”
Cazio struggled for something to say. His chest was tight. This felt like an attack from nowhere, one he had no parry and riposte for.
“Won’t you reconsider?”
“Cazio,” she said softly, “you aren’t one of my subjects. Everything you’ve ever done for me, you did because you wanted to. I’m not ordering you to do this, just asking.” She sighed and closed her eyes. “I had a vision. I need you there.”
Her eyes remained shut for a long moment, and he examined her face, thinking how familiar it had become and how strange that was. How had he come to this place? Shouldn’t he be back in Vitellio, sunning himself in some piato, seducing girls and starting duels? Guarding her was one thing, but this war—was it really his? Did he care about it if Anne and Austra were removed from