The Plan Commences

by Kristen Ashley

  “I’m not sure he’s il tuo buco anymore, mia gazella,” Lorenz remarked.

  “Oh, poo,” Nyx scoffed, moving toward Tedrey. She stopped at him, slapped him lightly on the cheek and asked softly, “You’ll always be mine, won’t you, caro?”

  “I will always be yours, Nyx,” he replied, just as softly. “Always.”

  Her eyes brightened with wet, but she looked away quickly and moved away the same, murmuring, “I shall get the wine.”

  Tedrey turned back to Lorenz.

  He had his arms crossed on his chest and his eyes locked to Tedrey.

  “Maybe I’ll be significant yet,” Tedrey whispered and watched Lorenz’s handsome face gentle.

  “You already were, but if you need this to understand that’s true, amico, then you must do it,” Lorenz replied.

  “Do you trust me?” Tedrey asked.

  With no hesitation, Lorenz answered, “Yes.”

  Tedrey pressed his lips together.

  These people had given him a lot since they’d saved him from The Rising.

  But that was the most precious of all.

  “Promise, standing in my home, looking right into my face, if you ever feel in danger, you will come to me immediately,” Lorenz demanded.

  “I will…amico,” he agreed.

  Tedrey then smiled.

  His eyes full of disquiet, Lorenz did not smile back.

  Instead, he murmured, “Come, I have a feeling there is much you wish to share with me.”

  Tedrey went to his friend.

  For he was right.

  74

  The New Advisor

  Queen Mercy

  The Queen’s Solar, Birchlire Castle, Notting Thicket

  WODELL

  Mercy was standing at the window, looking down from the great height of her solar at Notting Thicket.

  She had traveled widely with her husband, but Melisse had been correct those many weeks ago.

  Her city was the most beautiful of all.

  By far.

  The Great Wohd River and the delicate River Fae meeting under that very castle—a grand, turreted bridge spanning the junction—was the magnificent focal point to a rich abundance of charm and even whimsy.

  The expansive, regal castle rising upon its hill in the center of the capital was the heart. Its many high spires and towers reaching to the skies. Its arched windows, carved stone, bold balconies, regal entries and elegant fancies, all of which climbed high and spread wide, was in and of itself something out of a fantasy.

  Then there was the city with its cobbled streets, mellow-stoned buildings and moss-covered tiled roofs spread out over gently rolling rises or hugging the shores of the rivers.

  And beyond that, spreading as far as the eye could see, vast forests now in a riot of autumn color mixed with fields of brilliant green and cut by the calmly flowing rivers that ran through the city.

  It was, all of it, every inch, not just the Thicket, but all of it—from the cliffs at the Seil Sea to the north, to the border with Firenze in the south, to the beaches of the Triton Sea to the west, to the border with Airen to the east— property of the king. And it had been, by royal edict, after centuries ago, Wilmer’s many-times great grandfather battled his two brothers and two cousins in the Quinate War.

  And won.

  Now, it would be her son’s.

  “My queen.”

  She turned at the deep voice and saw Bram at the door with Wallace.

  Her son’s lieutenants were all nearly as handsome as True.

  Bram was tall, quite muscular and dark-headed.

  Wallace had dark blond hair, was shorter, stockier, but no less appealing of visage.

  If she could have hand selected her son’s men, she would have.

  True would never allow that.

  However, in the end, it didn’t matter.

  She would have selected the men he had.

  In fact, she had considered these very choices indication that not only had she taught him well, he had learned well.

  Although, Wallace seemed a little bedraggled at the present.

  Then again, he’d been traveling.

  “Come,” she invited.

  They moved in and her gaze remained fixed on Wallace as they did.

  He bowed when he arrived, straightened and announced, “I rode ahead to share the news in order that you could be prepared. True, Farah and their party are an hour out of the Thicket.”

  Her heart skipped a little at knowing her son was close.

  “Thank you, Wallace,” she replied, then bid, “Now please, I’m certain that was an arduous journey. Take the time before the prince arrives to refresh, have a decent meal, rest.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” he murmured, bowed, and after a glance at Bram, walked out.

  Mercy glanced at Bram as well, before turning back to the window.

  “Cassius and Elena?” she asked.

  “They should arrive on the morrow,” Bram answered.

  Excellent.

  “Aramus and Ha-Lah?” she continued.

  “We received word that their ship meets with part of Aramus’s armada at the mouth of Great Wohd. They should sail down it and be here no later than the day after tomorrow. Along with The Drakkar of Lunwyn, his Winter Princess and their dragons.”

  Most excellent.

  She looked forward to meeting The Drakkar and his Ice Princess. She’d heard much of them both.

  More, she looked forward to seeing his dragons.

  “Mars and Silence?” she carried on.

  “They are at a show some children are performing for them today at a school.”

  This surprised her, so she turned her head to look at Bram who stood to her right, but behind her.

  “A children’s performance?”

  Bram’s lips twitched. “Word got ’round that they’ve been busy in the city these past days. The children’s teacher put forward the invitation. Silence accepted. And what Silence wishes, Mars provides.”

  That large, fearsome man did seem to be incredibly smitten with her niece.

  And they had, indeed, been busy.

  Bram, just the day before, had to ask Mars to stop deluging every museum and library they visited with donations. That king and his queen had even stopped at a place that looked after stray dogs, of all things, and had given them three gold coins out of his own purse, for the gods’ sakes.

  He was overshadowing the donation True had made to the hospital that looked after Wodell’s wounded soldiers, and True’s support had not been insignificant in the slightest.

  “King Mars, sitting and watching children sing,” she murmured, allowing some amusement to sound in her voice.

  Bram did not hide his amusement. He grinned widely.

  “They are the talk of the town, or will be, until True and Farah arrive.”

  True.

  And Farah.

  She turned her attention again to the window.

  “Is all in place?” she asked quietly.

  “Yes.”

  “It has been checked?”

  “And double checked, and triple, my queen. It took me about five minutes to turn Carrington’s secretary. He detests his superior. Told me he’d been hoping for years someone would cotton on to this and ask about it.”

  “Would that he hoped so much he came forward with the knowledge,” she noted.

  “And be sacked or worse?” Bram asked, before he explained, “For as you know, the king has not ever given indication he’d wish to hear a word said against his advisor.”

  This was a good point.

  Mercy did not belabor it.

  Bram went on, “There is no evidence of a link to the Go’Doan. But there is a solid trace of embezzlement. It’s indisputable. He’s been stealing for ten years.”

  “The royal auditors?”

  “I looked at the documents myself, Your Grace. They had no idea it was happening. Every chit is signed by the king. They could only assume each withdrawal wa
s at the request of their monarch. Carrington could be forging his signature, and I am no expert, but I looked closely, and if he is, he has a skilled forger’s hand. Regardless, they are so true to the king’s own mark, if I were an auditor, I would not question it and not only because it’s not my place to question the king.”

  Mercy drew in a delicate breath.

  Then she nodded.

  “In other words, all is in place. It is time,” she said.

  “Yes,” Bram agreed, and she could feel him preparing to move with her.

  She waylaid him with, “One thing.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  She hesitated, staring at the beauty of her realm, the gently rolling waters of the river. The winding lanes and jumble of quaint buildings. The hustle of carts and carriages, horses and foot traffic.

  All her son’s.

  All Mercy’s.

  And soon to be…

  All hers.

  “Do you like her?”

  “Sorry?”

  She turned fully to her son’s man.

  “Do you like her?” she repeated.

  Bram studied his queen’s face.

  Then he said, “Yes. She is funny, and she is kind. She is also savvy. Her grief for her mother was quiet and reflective, not dramatic and attention-seeking. However, it stated clearly she has a large capacity to love.” He paused before he stated, “And she loves him, Your Majesty. It is budding, but it is true. She looks upon him as if he is her whole world, and in a way, with the loss of her mother, he is. Even so, she gives in a way she does not wish to take. She makes him laugh.” Another pause before he concluded, “She is perfect for him, my queen.”

  “And my son?” she whispered.

  He gave her a small smile. “He’s been lost to her since Firenze.”

  “She will make him happy.” It was a statement meant as a question.

  “She will,” Bram confirmed. “But more, she will give him peace.”

  That was what she needed to hear.

  Therefore, she nodded smartly.

  It was time to move on.

  “Let us go,” she decreed.

  It was Bram who nodded at that, stepped aside and allowed her to precede him.

  This she did, even though he murmured, “He’s in the royal study, not his personal one,” as she passed him.

  Of course he was.

  Making a statement now.

  He was king.

  And would remain king.

  Wilmer was correct about that.

  He was king and would remain king.

  But things were going to change.

  Today.

  When she arrived at the door to her husband’s study, she looked up at her son’s lieutenant, saw him dip his chin, step away and position himself at the side of the door.

  He had his hand on the hilt of his sword at his belt.

  He would not need it.

  She had no idea what her husband’s reaction would be, but it would not be violence.

  Though, she knew her son had ordered his lieutenant to protect his queen, even against their king.

  It just was not going to get to that.

  Mercy knocked.

  “Come!” Wilmer called.

  She turned the handle and moved in.

  He was sitting behind his desk, staring at it as if he didn’t know what it was, when she walked in.

  His head came up, his slightly jowly but still handsome face registered surprise, then it softened.

  She memorized that look even if she steeled herself against his display of clear affection.

  “My wife,” he whispered as she stopped in front of his desk.

  “My king,” she replied.

  “Mercy,” he said, standing. “I am so very pleased you sought me out.”

  “I am glad to hear it.”

  “This estrangement, my love…” He moved around the desk, approached her, took both her hands when he arrived and held them tight in his. “I do not like it,” he finished gently.

  She was glad to hear that too.

  However, she had the feeling he would like less that she did not seek him to put their rift behind them.

  Indeed, what she was about to do could very well drive them further apart.

  Or break them altogether.

  It was a shame.

  She would grieve this.

  But it was unavoidable.

  “You will see, in time, as will True, who will also find times where he must make maneuvers to protect his reign, that this is a valuable lesson Carrington and I have taught you,” he declared.

  A valuable lesson was about to be learned.

  It was just not that one.

  “I have heard word that True and his party are an hour out. Will you be greeting them at the castle gates with me?” she inquired.

  “Of course,” he mumbled.

  “I must inform the staff he arrives. They are prepared, but I wish them to be presented to the new princess upon their arrival,” she said.

  “As you know, I leave these matters to you. Simply have someone inform me when he nears or come yourself. We will walk down together.”

  “I’ll see to that. In the meantime, we must arrange to have Carrington arrested on charges of embezzlement, fraud and treason.”

  His hands spasmed in hers before he dropped them like they were afire and took a step back, his face a mask of shock.

  “What is this you say?” he hissed.

  “Carrington has been stealing from the royal treasury for the last ten years. Small amounts at first, though they became larger as his activities went forward without question or investigation. Thus far, we’ve been able to ascertain that he’s stolen twelve million, seven hundred and twenty-two thousand, four hundred and nine pieces of gold. Twice that in silver. And equal amounts in pewter and copper. We have not been able to trace where these funds have gone, but we believe it is to Go’Doan, or this Rising that was behind the attack at Catrame Palace in Firenze. Further investigation is needed and has been ordered.”

  “Is this a joke?” he spat.

  “It is absolutely not,” Mercy replied, low and firm.

  His eyes rounded as he saw her gravity.

  Then his face set in stubbornness.

  “I cannot believe this,” he declared and began to turn away from her.

  “You can, and you will. The evidence will be presented to you and unfortunately, it will include your very signature on every single voucher for withdrawal.”

  Wilmer went completely still.

  “You sign whatever he puts in front of you,” she reminded him. “I warned you about that. You did not heed my warning. And thus, you…personally…signed away the royal treasury.” She paused before she finished, “And you did this repeatedly.”

  He remained still, but now his face was ashen.

  “Now,” she said, turning and moving around the desk, “we are in the position where we must control the damage.”

  She stopped beside his chair.

  She studied it.

  She then drew in breath before she situated herself in front of it.

  And she sat.

  Looking up at him from the king’s chair, the only time she had ever sat there, and likely the only time she ever would, she continued speaking.

  “Fortunately, this comes at a time when our people have something to celebrate and thus, they have something to occupy their minds. And they will have more. We will also, with gratitude to Carrington,” she said with some irony, “have a full treasury. Therefore, on the morrow, we can announce much joyous news which I believe will drown out the din that the king’s chief counsellor has been arrested for theft and treason and any further rumblings of discontent at this new levy that has been waged.”

  She clasped her hands over her skirts in her lap and sat back.

  “For on the morrow,” she began steadily, “you, your son at your side, will announce that you have discovered your counsellor’s perfidy. The moment you did,
you had him immediately arrested. After the wedding, he will be tried. After his trial, when his guilt is ascertained, he will be hung.”

  “Mercy,” Wilmer whispered.

  She ignored him and continued.

  “You will follow this with the jubilant news that you are naming your son, Prince True, as your new chief counsellor. He has proved his loyalty to you and his realm repeatedly in his adult life. And he did the same very recently in Firenze at the diplomatic table, negotiating an alliance with Firenze that will mean an end to the strife with our southern neighbors, and open trade routes on the seas, as well as trade directly with Mar-El, which will mean Dellish wares will reach ports on this continent much more expediently, and others abroad we have rarely been able to attain.”

  Her husband had lost his pallor.

  He now was red in the face and looked ready to explode.

  Mercy ignored this too.

  “And last, you will declare that the recent tax will be utilized to assist port authorities and ship builders to handle much more significant traffic and custom, for the seas have been open to Firenze and Airen too, though tariffs will be assessed to their imports. This, as well as you and your new counsellor will be open to applications for funding credits to small merchants, farmers and shepherds who wish to increase their operations in order to supply what we hope will be significantly amplified demand.”

  “This is all very tidy for you,” he sniped.

  “Actually, True made it all very tidy for you,” she replied calmly.

  “He is again the hero, Mercy,” Willmer pointed out.

  “Did it not occur to you to wonder, even a little bit, why Carrington did not advise you to herald loud and wide the agreements True made in Fire City?”

  “I didn’t wonder,” he retorted. “I asked. And I agreed with Carrington that this, as with much else, would make True stronger and me weaker.”

  Mercy shook her head. “True is not separate from you, Wilmer. He’s your son and heir. He is a part of you and your reign in a very literal sense. It is Carrington that made you question that. And he had no care that True would appear stronger because of these negotiations. What he could not allow is that you would appear stronger because of them.”

  After sharing that, she put her hands flat on the desk and spoke in order to end this.

  “He has compromised you, and you have allowed it. We must all, every one of us, understand our weaknesses so we can bolster them. You have never, not once in my knowing of you, demonstrated an interest in governing your land. True doesn’t relish it either, but he understands it’s his responsibility and it is in his nature to assume it. It is not in yours. It’s in yours to delegate it. Therefore, appear in the throne room to knight the knights. Inspect the troops. Preside over arbitration, and announce the rulings, but allow True to decide them. Do what it is in your nature to do, delegate, but this time do it wisely.”