Traitor Angels by Anne Blankman

Author:Anne Blankman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2016-03-30T04:00:00+00:00

Part

Three

THE DIVIDED EMPIRE

So farwel Hope, and with Hope farwel Fear,

Farwel Remorse: all Good to me is lost;

Evil be Thou my Good; by thee at least

Divided Empire with Heav’ns King I hold

By Thee, and more than half perhaps will reigne;

As Man ere long, and this new World shall Know.

—John Milton, Paradise Lost, Book IV

Twenty

“YOU ARE SAYING EVERY CHRISTIAN NATION could plunge into anarchy?” I asked at last. “That’s true, but eventually some sort of order is bound to—”

The ringing of footsteps in the corridor silenced me. I froze.

They came closer. The clatter of heels and the shuffle of leather. Both stopped directly outside the laboratory door. As I listened, I was able to separate the sounds into two distinct sets of footfalls.

Before I could even think, Antonio had grabbed my hands and dragged me to my knees. Together we crawled beneath the table. I had to bend nearly double to keep my head from rapping its underside. Our breath crashed in our ears; it sounded horribly loud. The black cloth draped over the table enclosed us in our own night.

The door groaned open. Two sets of footsteps entered the room. They drew nearer, stopping next to the table. In the gap between the black cloth and the floor I could see scuffed brown leather riding boots and a pair of elegant heeled shoes tied with ribbons.

“My son returned last night.” It was the king. A chill skittered down my spine. He was so close. All I had to do was reach out my hand and I could touch his shoe. His voice reminded me of snowflakes, cool and soft, melting on a river’s surface. “What can you tell me about his movements?”

“The friend whose Yorkshire estate he was supposedly visiting was seen in London yesterday, shopping for clothes on Paternoster Row.” I recognized the deep timbre of this man’s voice. Buckingham. I had to bite my lip so I didn’t make a sound.

“We have been friends all our lives,” Buckingham went on, more quietly. “During your years of exile, I stayed by your side. No matter what happens, I’ll remain loyal to you, Charles. You know you can trust me to tell you the truth, even when it is unwelcome. Your son must be watched carefully.”

“I know it.” The words sounded as though they had been torn from the king’s throat. “But I can’t bear to think Robert and I may have become enemies. He’s my son, my oldest boy—”

“He’s a liar,” Buckingham growled. “He may be your eldest child by a number of minutes, but he can’t be your heir and he will never belong to the house of Stuart. The most you could have hoped for from him was devotion. Now all you have left is deception. I say we lock him in the Tower until he tells us where he’s been for the past week.”

“Never. I can’t—” The king faltered, then managed to say, “I can’t imprison my son. Even when we know he has lied to me. Bucks, for all we know he has spent the week chasing lightskirts and losing money at dice.

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