The Queen's Bastard Read Online Free Page A

eyes, black in the torchlight. His voice, low-pitched, was marked with an accent: Khazarian, from the sprawling empire beyond Echon’s eastern borders. “—begun. The imperatrix is with child—”
    Rumbled amusement from Robert: “That was quickly done.”
    “As it had to be,” the dark man replied. “With the imperator’s wars, that Irina has even a chance of childbearing is—”
    “A blessing to us all,” Robert said, tone lofty and sanctimonious. The dark man let go a staccato laugh that cut through the stillness surrounding Belinda. Her heart lurched, one too-strong beat, though her body never dreamed of betraying her with a flinch. Robert turned his gaze away from his dark companion, meeting Belinda’s eyes through the shadow. She read no leap of recognition there, no sign that he had seen her, though her pulse fluttered alarm in her throat. Within a moment his gaze left hers again. He extended a hand, gesturing the dark man to precede him as he pushed open the door to his private rooms. Light and heat swept out, the fire inside testimony to the servants’ knowledge that Robert would entertain tonight, although Belinda herself had not known.
    The dark man inclined his head, thanking Robert for the gesture. The door closed behind them, leaving the hall dark and cold. Belinda remained where she was a few seconds longer, arms folded around herself to ward off the chill. Then shadow released her and she caught up her skirts, scurrying downstairs to tend to her original task of asking that more wood be brought up for her fire.
             
    The door to her room opened late that night, cool air from the halls sweeping Robert and his companion in. The latter hung at the door, a scent of cloves washing on the air with his entrance. Belinda, buried beneath her duvet, came awake, her eyes still closed, her breathing still deep and easy. Familiar words raised goose bumps over her body, even beneath the warmth of blankets: “It cannot be found out, Robert. Not yet. It’s still too early.”
    “I know, Dmitri.” Robert’s voice was a comforting murmur at the side of her bed. He put a hand against her forehead, brushing tangled curls away. Belinda followed her impulse, stirring, sighing a little, and turned her head. Robert’s voice warmed with a smile. “Sleep, child. Forget. The time has not yet come for you to know such things.” The words were intoxicating, heavy with compulsion: Belinda, trusting impulse a second time, kept her learned stillness about her, not resisting. A surge, like the sound of water suddenly bursting through a waterwheel, pushed into her mind, and, like water again, spread through her, trickling down her spine and into her fingers and toes. She could almost see it, behind closed eyelids, faintly golden and glimmering: a concept just beyond her understanding.
    Sleep comes hard on the heels of that near-understanding, exhaustion waving through her so quickly she doesn’t hear the door close again. Doesn’t hear, most certainly, Robert’s sigh beyond that threshold, or Dmitri’s short sound of dismay. “She’s female. What did you expect? Power and ambition are built into the females.”
    “I expected more time.” Robert exhales another sigh, then gestures down the hall. “Another cup of wine? She’s young. Too young to show such talent.”
    “They mature quickly. Faster than we’re accustomed to.” Dmitri falls into step beside the Aulunian lord, neither raising his voice above a murmur. “And they die young. It may affect the development of their skills.”
    “Still, she’s yet to see her tenth summer, and if I hadn’t looked straight at her…”
    “You’d have known. The air was charged with her hiding. Or have you become too inured to it already? Does power only quiver your skin when it’s an unfamiliar taste?” A mocking smile curves Dmitri’s mouth as he bows before the door to Robert’s chambers, inviting the other man to enter before him. Robert’s