I noticed in passing that she made no mention of King Shrewd’s evident refusal to act. I watched her. She moved leisurely and purposefully at once. The loose white sleeve that she drew back from her arm was already dripping with cold rain. She ignored it as she bared her pale arm, to reveal a snaking of gold wire up her arm, with the dark opals of her Mountains caught here and there in its web. I had seen the dark flash of Mountain opals before, but never ones of this size. Yet she held out her arm for me to unfasten the catch, and with no hesitation at all, she unwound the treasure from her arm. From her other sleeve, she drew a small velvet bag. I held its mouth open as she slid the bracelets into it. She smiled warmly at Duke Brawndy as she pressed it into his hand. “From your king-in-waiting Verity and me,” she said quietly. I barely resisted Verity’s impulse in me to fling himself on his knees at the feet of this woman and declare her far too royal for his insignificant love. Brawndy was left stuttering his amazed thanks and vowing to her that not a penny of its worth would go to waste. Stout houses would rise once more in Ferry, and the folk there would bless the Queen for the warmth of them.

I suddenly saw the reason for the Queen’s Garden as a site. This was a Queen’s gift, not contingent on anything Shrewd or Regal might have to say. Kettricken’s choice of place, and her manner of presenting it to Brawndy, made that clear to him. She did not tell him to keep it secret; she did not need to.

I thought of the emeralds hidden in a corner of my clothes chest, but within me Verity was quiet. I made no move to get them. I hoped to see Verity himself fasten them about his queen’s neck one day. Nor did I wish to lessen the significance of her gift to Brawndy by adding another from a bastard. For that was how I would have had to present it. No, I decided. Let the Queen’s gift and her presentation of it stand alone in his memory.

Brawndy turned from his queen to consider me. “My queen, you seem to hold this young man in considerable esteem, to make him privy to your counsels.”

“I do,” Kettricken replied gravely. “He has never betrayed my trust in him.”

Brawndy nodded, as if confirming something to himself. He permitted himself a small smile. “My youngest daughter, Celerity, was somewhat troubled by a missive from Lord FitzChivalry. Especially as her older sisters had opened it for her, and found much there to tease her with. But when she brought her misgivings to me, I told her that it is a rare man who so candidly admits to what might be seen as shortcomings. Only a braggart would claim to go fearless into battle. Nor would I wish to give my trust to a man who could kill and not feel heart-lost afterward. As to your physical health”—he clapped me suddenly on the shoulder—“I would say a summer of pulling oars and wielding an ax had done you good.” His hawk’s eyes pierced mine. “I have not changed my assessment of you, FitzChivalry. Nor has Celerity. I wish you to be sure of that.”

I said the words I knew I must. “Thank you, sir.”

He turned to look over his shoulder. I followed his gaze through the blowing rain to where Celerity gazed at us. Her father gave her a tiny nod, and her smile broke like the sun from behind a cloud. Faith, watching her, said something, and Celerity turned blushing to give her sister a push. My guts turned to ice when Brawndy told me, “You may bid my daughter farewell, if you wish.”

There were few things I wished less to do. But I would not undo what Kettricken had so laboriously wrought. I could not. So I bowed and excused myself, and forced myself to cross the rain-pelted garden to present myself to Celerity. Faith and Shells immediately withdrew to a not-quite-discreet distance to watch us.

I bowed to her with absolute correctness. “Lady Celerity, I must thank you again for the scroll you sent me,” I said awkwardly. My heart was pounding. As was hers, I am sure, for a completely different reason.

She smiled at me through the falling rain. “I was glad to send it, and gladder of your reply. My father explained it to me. I hope you do not take it amiss that I showed it to him. I did not understand why you would belittle yourself so. He said, ‘The man who must brag for himself knows that no one else will.’ Then he told me there is no better way to learn the sea than at the oar of a boat. And that, in his younger years, the ax was always his weapon, too. He has promised my sisters and me a dory of our own, next summer, that we can take out on the sea on fine days….” She faltered suddenly. “I chatter, do I not?”

“Not at all, my lady,” I assured her quietly. I much preferred that she do the talking.

“My lady,” she repeated softly, and then blushed as furiously as if I had kissed her right there.