Exile by Anne Osterlund

twitched at an odd angle, then actually broke into a grin. “I’ve heard the gossip. It bears no credence.”
    That was good, because Robert had not heard the gossip and did not care to defend himself against any rumors that were flying around, though he had an uncomfortable feeling he knew what they might be.
    The grin faded, and Lord Lester continued, “But my wife is upstairs, speaking with her daughter for the first time in fourteen years.” He paused as though struggling with deep emotion. “And for my wife ... that is everything. I will not allow it to end in carnage.”
    For his wife? She was the one who had abandoned her daughter. If someone had the right to fear emotional carnage, it was Aurelia.
    “I know about the assassination plot,” Lord Lester went on, “and I am fully aware that His Majesty did not release adequate details. So I’m telling you I not only want details, I need them. If I am going to house both the former queen and the crown princess under my roof, I need to know the truth to avoid bloodshed.”
    Bloodshed. Then the carnage this man spoke of was literal. And he might well be correct. If the king found this place—if he sent his men hunting for his daughter and discovered, in the process, an entire army, as well as the woman who had humiliated him—the meeting might well end in slaughter.
    Robert closed his eyes. Was there nowhere he could take Aurelia? Nowhere she could be safe from the threats that kept piling, one upon the other, like bodies from a massacre?
    But this man had kept someone safe for over a decade. And he was offering to protect Aurelia as well.
    Robert told him the unvarnished truth. “The guards assigned to the expedition tried to kill her.”
    There was no response from His Lordship.
    “We escaped with our lives. But I did not dare take her back to the road, in case the guards might ambush us. They could have staked out any town between Sterling and—”
    “Transcontina,” Lord Lester finished for him. The city at the northern edge of the Asyan. “That’s less than three days’ ride. I’ll send several men to investigate. If palace guards have been in the city, there are those who will know.”
    “And if the guards are there now?” Robert had no desire to see conflict erupt.
    “Then my men will watch them and send word when they head back toward the capital. You are to remain here until we receive that confirmation.”
    I’m under Her Highness’s authority. Not yours.
    But Robert did not dispute the order.
    His Lordship nodded brusquely and turned, then at the doorway came to a sudden halt. “I’ve spoken with my courier.” He cleared his throat. “He and his wife have agreed to offer you more suitable lodging.”
    He walked out.
    Robert felt his jaw clench. The meaning behind the message stung. He was not of the correct class. He had no power, no title, no status. No right to even share a roof with Aurelia. No right to think of her as anything more than his future monarch.
    But that could not alter the truth that had plunged into him when she had stormed down the center of the hall, her chin upraised, eyes flashing, voice confident. Recklessly risking her life to defend him. Slaying all threats that stood in her way.
    He loved her.
    And there was nothing he, or anyone else, could do to change that.
     
    Her mother would not touch her.
    Not on that first visit. Or the next. Or the next.
    Each morning when Aurelia came to the Blue Room, Lady Margaret—as she was now called—sat alone at her window in her solitary wicker chair, where she could avoid meeting her daughter’s eyes by staring at the flower gardens below.
    She was like a set of porcelain shards pieced together. Anything Aurelia said might cause her to crack. No topic was safe: the palace, the king, the politics of Tyralt. At every reference the former queen’s hands clutched her windowsill with such force that her knuckles went white. And after a brief mention of the Vantauge family