The Sword-Edged blonde by Alex Bledsoe Page B

sister?”
    Epona knew about it, and it also made sense Phil would tell his wife. However she found out, though, it was still a low blow. “I want to help because he’s my friend,” I said through my teeth.
    I stood. I really wanted out of that room, and a big drink, in that order. When I reached for the door, she cried, “That’s all? You’re leaving?”
    I almost laughed. “You either can’t or won’t tell me what I need to know, Your Majesty, so this is pointless. I’ll have to do this without you.”
    “You’re going to find my son?” Now she sounded hopeful.
    “I’m going to find out the truth. Because like I said, Phil’s my friend. If I find your son in the process, great. If I find out why you’re lying to me, I’ll be sure to let Phil know so that he can decide if it’s for a good reason.”
    Of all things,
that
finally broke her facade. “No!” she almost screamed. “You can’t tell him—” Then she caught herself.
    But I was already across the room, clutching the bars and inches from her face. “Tell him
what?
” I hissed. “I know you’re Epona Gray, or at least you used to be. You know
me
. Who did all this? And
why?
”
    Tears rolled down her face, and she wrapped her arms around her upper body. “What I
know
, just as I know the sun will rise tomorrow and that a dropped apple will hit the ground, is that I’ll die if Philip doesn’t love me.”
    “Do you love
him?
”
    “Oh, God, yes,” she sobbed. “With all my heart. Like I could love no other man.”
    Enough time had passed that this statement inspired no jealousy. Well, okay, only a bit. “Then who hates
you?
”
    She didn’t answer, just repeatedly shook her head. She began to cry in earnest, and sank to the edge of the hard bunk, still hugging herself. I smacked the bars in frustration.
    “When I find out the truth,” I almost snarled at her, “it better be damn well worth all this shit.
Eppie
.” Then I turned and knocked to be let out of the room.

 
     

TEN

     
     
    W entrobe gave me directions to the spot where Phil originally met—or found, rather—Rhiannon. It was deep in the woods on the royal hunting preserve. I could’ve gone with Wentrobe, or Sergeant Vogel, or even Phil, but I wanted to see it alone. I needed some time away from Arentia City and the palace to sort through what I’d learned, and not learned, from the queen.
    The preserve was usually a bastard to sneak onto and off of. But I’d learned a lot of the old trails when I was a kid, and it seemed the current crop of guards knew even fewer of them than they had back then. I only had to duck off into the trees once to avoid an oblivious game warden on patrol. Poaching only became an issue when there was some famine, and Arentia was anything but starving.
    It seemed unlikely I’d find any clues after six years, but I still wanted to see the place. I was reasonably certain that the plot surrounding the mysterious queen originated in her life before Phil met her; and since she claimed to remember nothing prior to that meeting, I had to work backwards from day one.
    I found the area easily enough; a soft, low clover-covered hill in a clearing next to a stream. A good hunter like Phil would’ve checked this area for deer tracks, because the slope down to the water showed several in sharp, clear relief. I dismounted and tied my horse to a low branch; the beast looked at me with her typical equine arrogance. She seemed to have no trouble changing her loyalty from whichever border bandit owned her before, to me. Fickle tramp. I walked up the hill, scanning the ground for . . . I had no clue what.
    The blue and gray clover flowers shone in the bright sun, and a light breeze made them wave a little. I sat down and surveyed the stream, the forest, even the sky. They all seemed normal, as any crime scene would after half a decade. Especially when you’re not sure of the nature of the crime.
    I picked one of the gray clover flowers. I stared at