Chapter 27: The Cousin's Price

Seraphine came down the chamber with her eyes on the floor.

She wore the grey servant's dress, and she had no fan.

I had never in my life seen her without that fan.

"Who is this?" said the king.

"The Duchess of Wexmoor's cousin, Sire," said the chancellor. "Miss Crane. Disowned by Mr. Rook at your reception."

"Ah," said the king. "The emerald."

Seraphine curtsied, low, and her knees were shaking.

"Your Majesty. I have not come to defend myself."

"I have come to give you what I have."

"And what do you want for it?"

She lifted her face then.

It was blotched with crying, and I felt nothing at all, and that surprised me.

"Not to be sent away, Sire. Let me stay at court, and I will give you everything he ever wrote to me."

She put the satchel on the table and unbuckled it.

Out came a stack of letters bound in blue ribbon, and a thin book with a green cover.

I knew the cover.

It was the twin of the one on the table, bought at the same stationer's.

"Every night I read hers," Seraphine said, "and every morning I copied it out for him."

"Her pages from Wexmoor, and the ones she wrote for me to find."

She gave a small, cracked laugh.

"He told me the second ones were lies, and I did not believe him."

"I thought they were true. I thought she was frightened."

"I was always the one who knew what she was thinking."

"That is true," I said. "You were."

Her eyes came to me, and filled.

"The letter signed Linet. Did you write that?" said the king.

"I did. He gave me a page of hers to copy."

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