“What?” Mat said. They passed an intersection of halls where servants grouped, watching him and the others pass and whispering among themselves.
Guybon looked hesitant. “I’m sure you’ve heard.”
“Doubtful.” Burn him! What was next? Had the members of the Band been spreading these rumors? Even they did not know about some of those things!
“Well, there’s this rumor that says you stepped into death’s domain to challenge him and demand answers to your questions,” Guybon said, looking more embarrassed. “And that he gave you that spear you hold and foretold to you your own death.”
Mat felt a chill. That one was close enough to the truth to be frightening.
“Silly, I know,” Guybon said.
“Sure,” Mat said. “Silly.” He tried to laugh, but it came out as a cough. Guybon regarded him curiously.
Light, Mat realized, he thinks I’m dodging the question! “Only rumors, of course,” Mat said quickly. Too quickly, maybe. Blood and bloody ashes!
Guybon nodded, looking thoughtful.
Mat wanted to change the topic, but he did not trust himself to open his bloody mouth. He could see that more and more palace servants had stopped to watch the procession. He felt like cursing some more at that, but then noticed that many of them seemed focused on Thom.
Thom had been court-bard right here in Caemlyn. He did not talk about it, but Mat knew he had suffered a falling-out with the Queen. Thom had been in virtual exile ever since, coming to Caemlyn only when pressed.
Morgase was dead now, so this was Thom returning from his exile, it seemed. That was probably why he had dressed so finely. Mat looked down at his coat again. Burn me, I should have worn something nicer.
Guybon led them to a carved wooden door, bearing the roaring Lion of Andor. He knocked softly, received the call to enter, then gestured Mat toward the door. “The Queen will receive you in her sitting room.”
“Thom, you’re with me,” Mat said. “Talmanes, you watch the soldiers.” The nobleman looked crestfallen, but Elayne was undoubtedly going to embarrass Mat, and he did not want Talmanes there to see. “I’ll introduce you later,” Mat promised. Bloody noblemen. They thought every second thing was an affront to their honor. Mat would have been happy to wait outside!
Mat stepped up to the door, taking a deep breath. He had fought in dozens of skirmishes and battles without growing nervous. Now his hands were shaking. Why did he feel as if he were walking directly into an ambush without a scrap of armor on?
Elayne. As Queen. Burn him, but this was going to hurt. He opened the door and strode in.
His eyes found Elayne immediately. She sat beside a hearth, holding a cup of what appeared to be milk. She looked radiant in a gown of deep red and gold. Beautiful, full red lips that Mat would not have minded kissing, if he had not been a married man. Her red-gold hair seemed to shimmer in the hearthlight, and her cheeks were full of color. She seemed to have gained a little weight. Best not to mention that. Or should he? Sometimes women got angry when you mentioned that they looked different, and sometimes they got angry if you did not notice.
She was a pretty thing. Not as pretty as Tuon, of course. Elayne was far too pale, and too tall, and had too much hair. It was distracting. Still, she was pretty. Seemed a waste as a queen. She would have made an excellent serving girl. Ah well. Somebody had to be Queen.
Mat glanced at Birgitte, who was the only other one in the room. She looked the same. Always did, with that golden braid and high boots, like the hero from the bloody stories. Which was exactly what she was. It was good to see her again; she was one woman he knew who would not snap at him for speaking the truth.
Thom stepped in beside him, and Mat cleared his throat. She would expect him to be formal. Well, he was not going to bow or scrape, and he—
Elayne leaped out of her chair. She ran across the room as Birgitte closed the door. “Thom, I’m so glad that you’re all right!” Elayne grabbed him in an embrace.
“Hello, dear one,” Thom said fondly. “I hear you’ve done well for yourself, and for Andor.”
Elayne was crying! Mat pulled off his hat, befuddled. Sure, Thom and Elayne had been close, but Elayne was Queen now. Elayne turned toward Mat. “It’s good to see you, Mat. Do not think that the Crown has forgotten your service to me. Bringing Thom back to Andor is another debt we owe you.”
“Well, um,” Mat said. “It really wasn’t anything, you know, Elayne. Burn me. You’re Queen! How’s that feel?”
Elayne laughed, finally releasing Thom. “Such a way with words you have, Mat.”
“I’m not going to bow to you or anything,” he warned. “Or bother with that ‘Your Majesty’ nonsense.”
“I wouldn’t expect it,” Elayne said. “Unless we’re in public, of course. I mean, I have to keep up appearances for the people.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Mat agreed. It did make sense. He held out a hand to Birgitte, but she chuckled and gave him a hug, slapping him on the back like an old pal meeting for a mug of ale. And, well, perhaps that was what they were. Without the ale.
He could have used some ale.
“Come, sit,” Elayne said, gesturing toward the chairs by the fire. “I’m sorry to make you wait so long, Mat.”
“It’s nothing,” he said. “You’re busy.”
“It’s embarrassing,” she said. “One of my stewards lumped you with the mercenary groups. It’s so hard to keep track of them all! If you wish, I’ll give you leave to camp closer to the city. There’s not room inside the walls for the Band, I’m afraid.”
“That won’t be needed,” Mat said, taking one of the seats. “Letting us move closer is kind enough. Thank you.” Thom sat, and Birgitte preferred to stand, though she did join them by the hearth, leaning back against the stones.
“You look well, Elayne,” Thom said. “Is everything going well with the child?”
“Children,” Elayne corrected. “There will be twins. And yes, everything is well. Save for me having to be poked and prodded at nearly every opportunity.”
“Wait,” Mat said. “What?” He glanced again at Elayne’s stomach.
Thom rolled his eyes. “Don’t you ever listen when you’re in
