Free The Queen's Gambit by Deborah Chester Page A

first time, Pheresa wondered how they could possibly be related to each other. Yet they were. She drew a deep breath, feeling as though she were on fire. Her ears were roaring, and Princess Dianthelle’s face and form blurred for a moment.
    â€œThat’s right,” the princess said contemptuously. “Weep those pretty tears the way you always do. Why can you not discuss matters rationally whenever I give you my attention?”
    Outside the carriage, the cathedral bell began to toll the death knell for Gavril, one stroke for every year of his life. I survived what he did not, Pheresa thought. I am strong enough now to deal even with my mother.
    â€œI am not weeping,” Pheresa said quietly. “And how can you call me a fool for not going to Batoine? I do not belongthere. I have no intention of ever being shut away in that nuncery.”
    â€œIt is the perfect place for you,” the princess said with a shrug. “What else do you intend to do with yourself? You cannot remain at court.”
    Pheresa stared at her. “Why not?”
    But her mother’s hard, brilliant eyes were frowning intently at her attire. “Whose cloak is that?”
    â€œThe king’s.”
    â€œI suppose you think yourself clever in gaining his favor. Or have you?”
    Pheresa’s feeling of satisfaction deepened. It was gratifying to render her mother uncertain. But she knew she could not deceive the princess for long. Dianthelle kept superb spies at court, and she had little patience for games. Still, Pheresa could not resist toying with her. “I have the king’s cloak,” she replied.
    â€œBut not his favor. No. In that, at least, nothing is as yet settled.”
    The relief in her mother’s voice made Pheresa frown. She wondered what her mother was up to. “I am surprised you bother with me today, Mama. You hadn’t ever bothered to reply to my letters.”
    â€œWhy should I?”
    Hurt, Pheresa struggled to keep her voice even. “Because I am your only daughter. Because I have been in grave danger. Because I thought you might be glad I survived it.”
    â€œDo you wish congratulations?” the princess asked coldly. “You wrote me to say you were well again. That, I’d already heard. You wrote to say you were returning to Savroix with the king. That, of course, was obvious. Duty required you to do so. But now your duty is over. And you should depart as quickly as you can.”
    â€œWhy?” Pheresa asked in puzzlement. “The king has bidden me to stay.”
    â€œOnly because you have given him that calf-eyed look of appeal you do so well. Really, Pheresa, by now you should have more sense. Lingering at court will avail you nothing.”
    Pheresa’s fists clenched harder. “I shall do as the king commands.”
    â€œAnd what is his pleasure?” the princess asked sharply. “What do you expect?”
    Pheresa met her mother’s brilliant eyes. They were eagle-keen, hostile, and entirely without sympathy. All her life, Pheresa had somehow come up short of her mother’s expectations. She was never beautiful enough. She was never clever enough. She was never as popular or as skilled at intrigue as her mother wanted her to be. But now, Pheresa hoped to change her mother’s opinion of her. Evasion was pointless. Dianthelle might as well know exactly what was at stake.
    â€œWell?” the princess demanded.
    â€œI expect the throne,” Pheresa replied.
    Her mother’s eyes widened, and for a moment Pheresa had the pleasure of seeing her taken aback.
    â€œWhat has Verence said?” Dianthelle asked sharply. “What has he promised? Has he named you his heir? When? I know you did not speak to him last night. Was it in the crypt? Who witnessed it?”
    Pheresa tried to stem the barrage of questions. “Please. I did not say I’d been chosen. I said that’s what I expect.”
    The tension in