Murder at the Queen's Masquerade
Page 7
“I do not think that’s true. Few would have been as brave as you. So, if you will not let me matchmake, you must at least be a good godmother to little Catherine..”
“That I am most honored to do,” Kate said with a smile, thinking of the gift she would get her goddaughter Catherine for Christmas—a child-sized lute.
“Good! Now, you should put mistletoe into your bough. It is the most important element, otherwise the magic won’t work.”
Kate laughed, tucking a thick branch of glossy green mistletoe dotted with lacy white berries into the center of her circlet. Surely there was some kind of magic floating in the icy winter air. She felt lighter already, with the holiday upon them. After months of worrying over the queen’s safety, it seemed the perfect time to have a bit of fun.
“Holly and ivy, box and bay,” she whispered. “Put in the house for Christmas Day . . .”
But her laughter turned to a rueful sigh when she returned to her room later that afternoon and saw the stack of books and papers waiting for her. As promised, the queen’s chief secretary, Sir William Cecil, had sent her volumes on codes and languages. She loved studying codes, especially the work on musical mysteries to be found in Plato’s Republic, symbols hidden in the twelve notes of Greek musical scales which Cecil believed had once been used in hidden letters for the Tudor court—and could be used again. Kate loved learning of the strange mysteries there, but sometimes a Christmas dance was just more alluring.
“Fa la la la la,” she whispered, and sat down to her studies.
Amanda Carmack is the pseudonym for a multi-published author. Her books have been nominated for many awards, including the RITA Award, the Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award, the Booksellers Best, the National Readers Choice Award, and the Holt Medallion. She lives in Oklahoma.
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