The Royal Tutor's Thousand Quiet Schemes

The silver crib stood between my desk and the window, blocking the morning light from the lesson plan I had been revising. I had not ordered it. I had not told anyone I was pregnant. And the card tucked under its satin mattress bore no signature. A blue-white line of words appeared above it. The beloved is back. The tutor is finished. I blinked. The letters stayed where they were, sharp as frost against the room's gray stone walls. Then I heard a knock. I pushed the card beneath my notebook and drew my shawl tighter over my middle. At seven weeks, I had no visible reason to hide my body. I still did it automatically. "Come in." Nessa, my maid, opened the door. She looked from me to the crib, then back again. "Should I ask where that came from?" "No. Ask the footmen who carried it up. And find out who signed the delivery slip." She nodded. Nessa was good at asking questions that sounded like errands. "The palace is already awake. Lady Celia's carriage passed the north gate." The words above the crib flickered. There she is. I stared until the letters blurred. I had seen them once before, four nights ago, after Adrian kissed me outside his private study and whispered that he wanted to tell his daughter about us. They had appeared above his shoulder, gone before I could read them properly. I had blamed exhaustion. This was not exhaustion. "Miss Vale?" Nessa asked. "I'm fine." I turned toward the window, where the palace grounds sloped to a cold, gray harbor. "Tell Princess Mara I'll be in the east schoolroom in ten minutes." "And the crib?" "Leave it." I wanted to know who had sent it. I wanted to know what the words meant. More than either, I wanted to hear from Adrian before a stranger told me what his return meant. The bell for the morning lesson rang. I went to teach the next queen. ***** Princess Mara had already spread her papers across the schoolroom table when I arrived. At twenty-two, she had her father's dark eyes and none of his talent for pretending a bad argument was a good one. "You're late," she said. "Three minutes." "Three minutes is a lifetime in a council meeting." "Then you'll be pleased to hear that council meetings rarely begin on time." She smiled and pushed a draft speech toward me. "Read this." I read the opening paragraph. It praised the harbor redevelopment plan, praised the council's patience, and promised to review the concerns of dockworkers who had lost their leases. "You don't believe a word of it," I said. "I believe the leases are unfair. I don't believe anyone who wrote this expects me to say so." "Then don't." Her gaze held mine. "The king wants me to keep the peace until the budget vote." "Your father wants you to keep the peace until he can decide what the peace costs." "That sounds like something you'd say if you were angry with him." It was. I kept my face still. "It sounds like something I say when a draft is designed to make the speaker harmless." Mara tapped her pen against the table. "Celia Voss came back." "I heard." "She was my father's first choice, once. Before I was old enough to understand what that meant." She studied me carefully. "Are you all right?" "I'm tired." It was a poor answer, and she knew it. She let it pass, which was one reason I trusted her. The words appeared again, hovering over the window. The tutor is finished. I looked away before Mara could notice. "Tell me what you want the speech to accomplish." "I want the dockworkers' leases reviewed before the vote. Not promised. Reviewed." "By whom?" "Someone who doesn't owe the council a favor." "Then you need to name the reviewer." "I thought you'd help me find one." "I'll help you find three. You choose one in public." Mara's smile returned, small and intent. "That's why Father hired you." "Your father hired me because I told him his first choice for your tutor was a man who thought history began with his own grandfather." "And you stayed because?" "Because you asked me to." She lowered her eyes to the draft. For one bare second, I felt the life I had built around that answer: my rooms, my lessons, the trust she placed in me. Then my hand drifted to my stomach. I stopped it. A knock interrupted us. The door opened before Mara answered. King Adrian stepped into the schoolroom, followed by a secretary carrying a folder. His gaze went to me first. Celia is back. You know what happens next. The words lit up between us. Adrian's expression did not change. I was grateful for that and hated myself for being grateful. "Miss Vale," he said. "A word." "Your Majesty," I answered, and stood. Mara glanced between us. "I can continue the lesson alone." "Not yet," I said. "We haven't settled who reviews the harbor leases." Adrian's mouth tightened. I had made him wait. It was a small thing, and a necessary one. The words above his shoulder faded. For now, you're still useful.