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deserted. They stood by the exterior wall of the queen’s private apartments, where soft lights flickered through the diamond-paned glass. Heat streamed off the ground and the air was heavily perfumed by the many flowers and rosebushes.
    “What do you want me to do?”
    Rhys nodded in the direction of the windows. “We have to assume that whatever is troubling the queen happens at night. She is too well watched during the day.”
    “But hardly anyone is allowed into her apartments while she sleeps.”
    “Remember, they do not have to be invited in, my lady.”
    “That is true.”
    “But let us start with those she permits to attend her.”
    Verity started ticking off names on her fingers. “The king, obviously. The queen’s two brothers, Edward and Thomas, and other members of the Seymour family. Her stepdaughters, the lady Mary and the lady Elizabeth. Lady Jane Rochford.”
    Rhys stiffened. “Lady Rochford? George Boleyn’s widow?”
    “I know. She seems an odd choice, but she takes her duties very seriously and is high in the queen’s favor.”
    “Yet you do not like her.”
    Verity hesitated. “She is arrogant and abrasive and has no patience with the younger girls.”
    “Do you think she could be a Vampire?”
    “I’m not sure. She tends to douse herself in perfume, which makes it hard for me to tell.”
    Rhys gripped her shoulder. “If you find out she is a Vampire, you must tell me as quickly as possible.”
    “Or kill her myself.”
    Rhys’s expression tightened. “Have you ever killed a Vampire, Verity?”
    Fear crowded her throat as images long suppressed resurrected themselves and played across her mind. She brought her hand to her mouth. “Yes.”
    “And you did not enjoy it.”
    “It was . . . extremely unpleasant.”
    “Which is why, unless you have no choice and have to kill to save the queen, you will call me. Who else frequents the queen’s rooms at night?”
    Verity shook off her fear. “Two of her ladies are always at hand, but we sleep in the anteroom next to the queen’s bedchamber. We can hear her call from there, but we cannot see her.”
    “You will have to resign yourself to a lack of sleep, my lady, and offer your services to the queen on a nightly basis.”
    “How am I supposed to do that? Surely that will raise any Vampire’s suspicions.” Verity pondered the problem. “I suppose I could induce the king to command me to stay every night.”
    “Aye, if he thought your being there might stop any Vampires getting to his queen and his unborn child.”
    “I’ll seek an audience with him tomorrow.”
    Rhys nodded. “That is an excellent idea. Now, shall we proceed back to the chapel? We have a lot of work to do.”
     
     
    Verity glared at Rhys as he motioned for her to attack him yet again. She was finding it hard to breathe normally as his constant commands exceeded both her ability and her resources.
    “Verity. Do it.”
    There was no amusement in his voice, just a calm inflexibility that made her want to slap his face. And what had happened to his visage? A livid cut slashed across his right cheek.
    She gritted her teeth and went for him again. He stepped to his right, but for the first time she managed to get under his guard and narrowly missed plunging her blade into his left shoulder.
    “Duw.” Rhys hissed out a curse and stumbled away from her, one hand grasping his upper arm.
    Verity immediately dropped her dagger. “You told me to attack you!”
    His smile was a little ragged. “Indeed I did, and you caught me unawares.” He retreated to the edge of the room and sat down on the weapons trunk with a thump, his skin clammy, his mouth set in a hard line.
    Verity brought the flagon of ale from its hiding place and pulled out the stopper. “Have some of this.” She waited until he took a long swallow and then took it away from him and placed it on the floor. His color started to improve, but he kept massaging his shoulder. Verity took over the task and he