The Queen's Price

FIFTY-ONE

Saetien set aside the empty mug. “You went to Tuathal with Wilhelmina Benedict?”

“I did,” Butler replied. “Lady Morghann and Lord Khardeen spent a few days in the city on the Queen’s business and let it be known that Lady Benedict was an acquaintance, which was enough to open a few social doors. She made friends, attended gatherings, eventually began hosting literary evenings. She married a man who loved her, and they had two children. From all accounts, she was a thoughtful, caring woman who was well liked by her neighbors and loved by her family—and always carried some sadness. No one knew the cause of that sadness, but it was a burden she couldn’t put aside. One of life’s regrets.”

“A man who loved her,” Saetien repeated. “Did she love him?”

“I assume so, but I don’t know. I had left Scelt and was on another assignment by the time she met him. I did what I’d promised to do and helped her put down roots. After I left Tuathal, our paths never crossed again.”

“That’s all you know about her?”

“I know her descendants still live in Scelt.”

She frowned at the carpet. Was she supposed to feel vindicated that someone else had turned away from Jaenelle Angelline? Was she supposed to feel happy that Wilhelmina had made a life for herself and had a family of her own?

“It feels . . . incomplete.” She wasn’t sure what was missing from the story, but what she needed wasn’t in Butler’s account of Wilhelmina’s life in Scelt. “I found out about Wilhelmina, which is what I came here to do, but I didn’t find the answer.”

Silence. Then Butler said quietly, “Maybe that’s because you’ve been asking about the wrong sister.”