Queen's Guard 01 The Queen's Guard: Violet

by Traci E Hall

“To keep unwanted people out—and we’re not staying here. Close your eyes.”

  She shut them tight, trusting that Raoul had a good reason for telling her what to do. Her body tensed as she heard the sound of a panel sliding open.

  ”Open them. This is a secret passageway. You told me earlier you could be trusted with a secret. Now we are sharing one, you and I.” Raoul’s dark eyes bore into her.

  The devil himself could pluck out her fingernails one by one, yet she would say nothing about the secret passageway. She nodded.

  “Do not scream, even if a spider lands on your head.” He pulled her into the dark tunnel, shut the panel, and walked as if he could see perfectly in the pitch-black night.

  Bella remembered being trapped in the dark dungeon of her husband’s keep and lifted her chin, determined to best the terror rising from her toes. Raoul would keep her safe. I’m fine.

  Sarah weighed nothing in his arms, a mere broken doll with a fluttering pulse and ripped clothes—and a wavy row of stitches along her side.

  Raoul had not felt so proud of anyone as he had watching Bella overcome not only her fears but Jonathon’s doubts as well. She’d acted courageously, though she lacked confidence. He wondered why but didn’t pursue the thought. He had enough problems.

  And why had he trusted Lady Isabella but not Sir Jonathon of the wobbly knees? He’d thought Isabella and Jonathon had tender feelings for one another, yet he’d been mistaken. He just didn’t like the knight. And where was the damned weapon? Hopefully Jonathon would find it and then Raoul could steal it later.

  It was clear Lady Isabella was seeing her world with a fresh viewpoint and not shying away from the harsh truth behind the gilded words of false love and affection. What the queen created with her Court of Love was a silliness unmatched elsewhere in the world. Even he had heard talk of it, and idle gossip rarely reached his ears. A knight was a man, by God, a warrior bred to protect his women and children. His home. Not dally in the rose gardens spouting poetry.

  Still, he thought, adjusting Sarah in his arms, what would Isabella do now that her friend had been the victim of foul play? He’d heard Jonathon blame the emperor. Isabella had doubts, but would the knight listen? Raoul would have to steal the wine bottle too.

  If Jonathon threatened Emperor Manuel, Raoul would kill him without remorse. Raoul knew Manuel had nothing to do with Sarah’s attack. He’d been with King Louis looking at relics in the chapel. Besides, poison wasn’t Manuel’s style. It was a woman’s weapon. He would find out who the bottle came from if it took him the rest of his life.

  He sensed Bella’s tension and didn’t complain when he felt the hesitant touch of her hand on the small of his back. He walked with assuredness, knowing each turn, each dip in the tunnel, blindfolded. There were weapons stashed at different intervals along the way so that he would never be caught unaware.

  Raoul slowed his steps.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Bella’s throaty whisper sent an unexpected thrill of longing down his spine.

  “We’re here.” He kept his voice hard, unwavering, as he felt alongside the wall before dipping his fingers into two specific beach rock impressions at once. The door to the hall slid open. “Go.”

  Bella blinked in the dim light of the hallway, looking around to get her bearings. “The women’s wing? That’s our chamber there.” A soft light burned from a sconce outside the door. Bella turned to Raoul, gratitude on her face. She stood on tiptoe, bringing her mouth to his. She hesitated but leaned forward and pressed a firm kiss against his still lips. “Thank you,” she said, slowly drawing back.

  Surprised by the sweet gesture, Raoul brushed past her and strode toward the ladies’ door. He knocked once. “Be brief and vague about what happened tonight. I will find out what I can.”

  The door opened, and a sleepy-eyed Mamie quickly took in the situation, gesturing for Raoul to lay Sarah down on the couch at the foot of a large, curtained bed. Raoul felt the women’s eyes on him but said nothing.

  Raoul left before Isabella could argue or offer her opinion. The woman rarely lacked words, but there was much to do and not long to accomplish his tasks.

  She’d kissed him. A simple kiss. Of thanks. It meant no more than that.

  He had to find that fool Jonathon. What else would the knight know of Sarah’s affairs? The woman had been in Constantinople but a few days. Who had she annoyed to the point that they wanted her dead?

  First things first, Raoul thought as he walked to the emperor’s private suite and knocked on the door.

  “This had better be important, or I’ll have your head as my footstool.”

  Raoul opened the door. Emperor Manuel was stealing a few moments with no cares but the open book in his lap. His dogs lay at his feet, curled next to the small brazier. The open window let in a faint ocean breeze. Raoul felt a moment’s regret that he’d interrupted such a tranquil scene. “Is that French you’re reading?”

  Manuel blinked, his expression indecipherable.

  Raoul looked closer, expecting the Bible or a military exercise. There were flowery illustrations on the page. “What in the hell is that?”

  “The queen kindly sent over a book of poems written by her grandfather. She says he was a true troubadour. That woman is a handful, too fiery for Louis, if you know what I am saying.”

  Raoul’s stomach dropped. “Tell me you did not …”

  Manual scratched his chin and grinned. “I did not. But I thought about it.”

  Raoul kept his opinion to himself. “Speaking of which, did you send a note to the blonde woman you were supposed to fuck before she fell ill?”

  Manuel scoffed. “One chance at this emperor is all she had. Why do you ask?” His grin widened. “She is feeling quite the thing and wants me still, eh?” He sighed. “She was beautiful, and you know I like my tall blondes. Give her a second chance. It is most difficult, keeping all of my subjects happy.”

  “I wish it were so simple. She was stabbed, and the scene was set to look like a suicide. Drank poisoned wine. She met with her attacker because they said they were you.”

  “Devil take it,” Manuel said, rubbing his mustache, “I’ve not arranged my own trysts in years. You do for this precise reason. Can you imagine if I had been there? Irene would never let me hear the end of it.”

  “The note was sent by royal messenger. Sarah had every reason to think it would be you she was meeting by the seawall in the old guard shack.”

  “Outside? I haven’t taken my pleasure outside in years either. Might be nice. Remind me, would you?”

  Raoul knew his liege was having fun at his expense but did not play along. “Emperor. Have you seen anyone else sniffing around the blonde’s skirts? Or leggings?”

  “No. My gaze usually stops around her breasts.” He held up a hand and chuckled. “All right, before you explode, explain the seriousness of the issue. I assume she is still alive, or you would not be as patient with my teasing as you have been.”

  “She lives.”

  “And will she tell the queen what happened?”

  Raoul blew out a breath and shrugged. “I don’t know the answer to that. Why wouldn’t she, unless she is trying to keep her desire for you a secret? The scenario was set up to make it appear that she’d joined with you, felt ashamed, and killed herself. The question is, who would make those arrangements—and why? I care more about that than some whore in Queen Eleanor’s lady guard.”

  “Raoul, your eye to detail is what keeps me safe, but as a ruler I must look at all pieces of the puzzle.”

  Before he could stop himself, Raoul said, “Like signing the twelve-year truce with the Turks, our sworn enemy?”

  Manuel sighed, put the book down, and stood, stretching his back. “So that is the reason for your extra sour mood the past few days?”

  “We had a common enemy.”

  “We still do.” Manuel tilted his head, giving Raoul his undivided attention.

  “You bartered for peace. H
ow can you say we have an enemy in the Turks now?”

  “I bargained for peace and a possible ally so that the damned Crusaders, in all their religious glory, did not decide to join with King Roger and sack our city. That bargain suits me for now. Who knows what the future will bring?”

  “Then it is a lie.” Raoul studied the emperor closely for signs of deceit.

  Emperor Manuel stood to his full height, his swarthy face darkening. “Careful. I brought you up in my sight, and I can take you down again.”

  “I never asked to be placed so high.”

  “You train my guard because you’re the best. You protect me because nobody does it better. You’re in charge of the leopards, my affairs—my life—because you are too afraid to live your own. You’re drowning in self-loathing, Raoul. I must give you more to do or risk losing you to a Turkish sword. I don’t believe in honorable suicide.”

  Raoul bristled, angry but touched by doubt. Had he been choosing fury to avoid the pain of living? He’d think about it later. For now, he still had a bone to pick. “You told Louis about Raymond of Antioch.”

  “Yes. I apologize. I meant to see Louis’s reaction to the traitorous prince’s name. The foul ruler of Antioch sends messengers that I return without their heads, yet he persists. I don’t care what he wants from me, but I was wondering if Louis might be part of the plot to bring us together. I will never forgive Raymond of Antioch his place in my father’s death. You and I have that enemy in common.”

  Raoul clenched his fists. “I would kill him. No mercy.”

  “If I thought it would heal you, I would send for the man and let you hack his body to pieces before feeding him to the wolves. But it won’t.”

  Raoul burned with familiar rage, remembering the bitter betrayal and accepting the loss of his family. “I don’t need to heal, Manuel. Vengeance is enough.”

  Manuel sighed. “You ruled your village justly, but it was destroyed by betrayal within. There was not a damned thing you could have done to stop what happened. Will you forgive yourself?” Manuel shrugged. “You have not come any closer to finding peace.”

  “I don’t want peace. I will never forget.” The image of his wife and son burned in his soul, and he tasted ash at the back of his throat.

  “Do not forget! That sorrow, that tragedy haunts you. But forgive.” Manuel reached down and picked up the book. “Forgiveness might lead you to wear something other than black.”

  Raoul gritted his teeth so hard he heard something crack, and a shooting pain went up his jaw. Pain he could handle. Pain he understood.

  “I want King Louis gone from here so I can have my city back,” Manuel said, changing the subject. “I am tired of pious Crusaders. I learned earlier this evening, when the lovely queen brought me this book of her grandfather’s, that Louis is waiting for reinforcements from France to arrive before he leaves. Eight days. Perhaps fewer. God hates me if it’s more.” Manuel stared directly at Raoul. “Leaders fight with more than swords. They use words. They use whatever tool is at hand. Find out what else the queen knows. Did you have any luck with Lady Isabella today?”

  Raoul winced, remembering her kiss and how he’d pushed her aside. “Nothing of import. I would tell you if I had. You know that.”

  “Continue seeing her. And the race at the Hippodrome?”

  “Taken care of.” Transactions with coin were true and fast. Being with Lady Isabella and maintaining his composure would be more difficult than showing the leopards at tomorrow’s event.

  “I want extra soldiers around my royal personage at all times when we are out. God forbid Louis should listen to his odious chaplain and eunuch bodyguard. They urge him to forget his oath and wage war while I appear to be weak. We must show everyone that I, Emperor Manuel Comnenus, am at the height of my power.”

  Raoul bowed his head, understanding that motive at least. “Lady Sarah?”

  “We will wait and see what happens. It is the queen’s move. But between you and me? I want the perpetrator found and beheaded.”

  Raoul left with a short bow. “I will see it done.”

  He had to find whoever had sent the royal messenger, which would have to wait until morning. He searched Jonathon’s room, but it was empty. After an hour of looking for the knight with no luck, Raoul went to his chamber. He knew he would not sleep, yet the warm memory of a certain lady’s mouth lulled him to dreaming.

  Bella looked up as her robe-clad queen entered the candle-lit chamber followed by Catherine, who had gone to wake her. No cosmetics graced her cheeks, yet Eleanor was by far the most beautiful flower in the room.

  “Is she alive?” Eleanor glanced at Bella, then at Sarah, her mouth set in controlled anger.

  “Oui.” Bella held out her hand to Eleanor.

  She took it and sat on the stool near Sarah’s face.

  Mamie and Fay changed Sarah into a clean robe, tied in the front so Bella could wash the area around the wound at her side while keeping a modicum of modesty.

  Eleanor lightly traced the uneven black stitches. “Who did this?”

  “I did.” Bella swallowed, pressing her fingertips together. Now that the event was over, she felt ill. “The best I could.”

  “My personal physician couldn’t have done better. I see I did not underestimate you, Isabella de Lacey. My Violet.” The queen returned her attention to Sarah. “What happened? I will see justice done.”

  “She went to meet the emperor for a tryst, but instead of a romantic interlude where she gained his affections, Sarah was poisoned with wine, stabbed in the side, and left to die with a forged suicide note on the table.” Bella exhaled. “Written in Latin, a language Sarah doesn’t know.”

  “And the weapon?” the queen asked.

  “Jonathon went to the shack to search for it.”

  “He didn’t find the knife. He’s already brought me the bottle of wine.” Eleanor sat straight, looking at each of them and stopping at Bella. “I find it suspicious that our alchemist, Lily, was poisoned. Where is the letter?”

  “Raoul has it. He says the emperor is innocent, and he’s promised to find out more about the note.” Bella frowned. “Sarah would never try to harm herself.” Yet hadn’t her friend been morose of late? And wanting a miracle for an unnamed cause?

  Queen Eleanor’s gaze hardened as she looked from Sarah to her guards. “Let us start from the beginning of the day. Tell me everything, ladies.”

  Bella kept her impulsive kiss, her rejected kiss, to herself but shared the rest. She told of Raoul forcing her to spend the afternoon with him, the private tunnel, and the cisterns below the city. She spoke of the sturdy seawall, the crowded bazaar, and charbet. Of telling Jonathon she didn’t require his courtly services, Sarah’s exhaustion, and the royal messenger. Of Sarah’s desire to complete her mission and answer the emperor’s threat. Of her own intuition that the messenger wasn’t from Emperor Manuel and how she’d convinced Raoul to help her. Because she’d made a promise, she didn’t tell about the secret tunnel. Bella ended with a sigh. “It’s been an eventful day.”

  “Well done. Catherine, you did right sending for Jonathon. Bella, how clever of you to question the messenger.” The queen stood and paced, her skin glowing eerily in the flickering candlelight.

  “Only because I knew Raoul handles the emperor’s affairs.” She shrugged.

  “You’ve spent the time getting to know him and how things are run within the palace, which is what I’ve asked you to do—and for this reason.”

  Bella’s confidence soared.

  “Now we must discover why Sarah was attacked. It’s no secret that beneath the veneer of hospitality, we are hated here—called barbarians.” Eleanor’s mouth pursed.

  “I thought King Louis had impressed the emperor with his piety, so the emperor no longer distrusted his motives within Constantinople.” Fay sat on the floor, her gray eyes round as silver coins.

  “The Greeks are well versed in smiling with one face while plotting your demise with the oth
er.” The queen turned on her bare heel. “Tomorrow I will have Fay and Catherine come with me to Hagia Sophia with Empress Irene and her cousins. I must know what the people in this city think of Louis. There is much they could say about him, but he is a Christian right through to his shining bright soul. I would not have his name muddied by anything else.”

  Bella reached out to touch the queen’s arm. “I’ve heard the same from Raoul: that the emperor has even shown our king the sacred relics in his private chapel.”

  Queen Eleanor smiled and nodded. “It was all Louis talked about when we shared a cup of wine this evening.”

  “I can sit with Sarah tomorrow,” Bella offered.

  “Non. You find a way to stay by Raoul’s side if you can.” The queen’s eyes narrowed. “We must find out who poisoned Sarah, and Raoul seems like a man who will not give up the hunt until his prey is caught.”

  “Do you think someone—the emperor or the commander —discovered Sarah spying and this is their way of taking her from the game?” Bella’s heart beat like thunder, and she sank to her knees at her friend’s side. “If this scenario is true, then Raoul gave no sign of it.”

  “There is a reason he is Manuel’s closest guard.”

  “John hasn’t behaved suspiciously either,” Mamie said to Eleanor. “And he speaks his mind.”

  The queen paced some more. “I don’t believe you’ve been discovered as spies. People are too taken aback by your attire and duties as my personal guard to wonder if you could be anything else. I’ve attempted to get close to Manuel myself, going so far as to give him a book of my grandfather’s poetry. He was in his chamber with Irene, who seemed none too happy with my gift. I don’t think he could have met with Sarah, shared relics with Louis, and returned to his rooms so fast. Non, he isn’t behind the attack on Sarah.” The queen looked directly at Bella. “But his close guard, Raoul?” Eleanor lifted her shoulder. “Perhaps. You said it took some time before you found him?”

  Bella nodded as she examined her feelings. Could Raoul have stabbed Sarah? “He took Sarah’s eating dagger the first night we dined together.” All the guards’ weapons were monogrammed with their flowers so as to tell them apart at a glance.