Return of the Guardian-King by Karen Hancock

utensils of gold. Even the breastplates of his royal guard were golden. His mythical holdings supposedly lay somewhere out beyond the Mahishi—the harsh, high deserts and the Great Sand Sea few deigned to cross, save on the trade routes which had made men like ul Sadek their fortunes.
    In addition to sponsoring the arts, he was also patron of the weak. Having been an orphan himself, he maintained a great orphanage back in his kingdom. He also had armies that numbered in the hundreds of thousands under his command. He would be a valuable ally should Ronesca somehow manage to acquire him.
    That she had insisted Maddie attend with her, then taken the trouble to select her gown and accessories for the occasion, complete with meticulous instruction as to how they should be arranged, argued strongly that Maddie was a part of whatever she was planning. And it didn’t take too great a leap of logic to guess what that part was.
    Since the morning when Maddie had admitted her pregnancy to the woman, they had not spoken of it at all. But Maddie had been careful to attend as many of Ronesca’s social functions and religious observances as she could bear—and as did not interfere with her own. Not being concerned with showing up at the Gilded Ram had helped, though for a time she’d refused to eat anything prepared on palace grounds, except that which her own people specifically purchased and prepared. It had, she’d heard, raised a bit of turmoil in the kitchens, but so be it. Ronesca had said nothing, and rumors credited her strange cravings to being with child. Eventually she’d talked herself out of the horrible suspicion, for as much at odds as she was with Ronesca, she couldn’t believe the woman would stoop to killing her baby.
    “I am pleased to see you have respected my wishes and have adorned yourself properly.” Ronesca’s prim voice intruded into Maddie’s musings.
    Maddie met her sister-in-law’s gaze. “How could I fail, Your Highness? You were quite specific.”
    “It wouldn’t be the first time my instructions were ignored. Or . . . modified.” Her dark, long-lashed eyes dropped to Maddie’s waist. “I see there was some of that, regardless. The dress is too tight for you, I presume?” Maddie flushed as Ronesca pursed her small lips. “It’s hidden well, though. Don’t you think?” She glanced at Lady Iolande, who agreed.
    The crown princess’s gaze narrowed again on Maddie. “I’d like you to see that it remains so.”
    “But everyone already knows—”
    “They only suspect, my dear. And so long as you say nothing inappropriate, that is the way it will stay. Tell them that you will be moving up to Deveren Dol to stay with the Sisters of the Sacred Graces for a time of spiritual healing and refreshment in the wake of your devastating losses. Certainly you’ve played the part of grieving widow well enough. When you return, we will have a grand ball to welcome you back and officially introduce you to the court.”
    Maddie frowned at her. “Sisters of the— I have no interest in going on retreat, Your Highness. And, anyway, what would be the point? It will be obvious I’m not going for spiritual healing.”
    “Not if you leave within the week. Rumor to the contrary, no one is certain of the truth. And if they don’t see you swelling up like an old sow, they will remain uncertain. When the child is born . . . well . . . perhaps Eidon will be gracious and give you a girl, which would solve all of our problems.”
    “I will not go to Deveren Dol, Your Highness.”
    Ronesca cocked a shapely brow at her. “You are not queen here, Princess Madeleine. In fact, you are not queen anywhere, so you would do well to stop acting as if you were. I’ve written to your father about this matter, and he has agreed. You’ll go north next week. If your child is determined to be of royal heritage, we will see about procuring him or her a proper sponsor. Otherwise . . .” She let her words trail off