by E G Radcliff
Áed looked down his nose at him. For all his robes and power, Elisedd did not intimidate him. “Councilor, calm yourself.”
Elisedd’s eyes narrowed, confused for just a moment.
Still looking down on him, Áed inclined his head. “There’s the door.”
Elisedd reddened. For what Áed suspected was the first time in his life, sugared words didn’t ooze smoothly off his tongue. “I… you—”
Áed just raised an eyebrow.
“Your Grace, I—” He exhaled sharply and closed his eyes, sparing Áed the sight of their slimy-looking irises. “In truth, I came to offer you my service once again.” Stiffly, he bowed. “I hold influence over many members of the court. While they are not all entirely dedicated to you, Áed,” —Áed noted the unspoken ‘but I am’ in Elisedd’s speech— “they are dedicated to me. Were that I could sway them to your side, but allegiances are not easily shifted, not allegiances forged over decades. Rather, I offer my influence to you.”
Áed’s perception didn’t fail him. The transparent insult of Elisedd’s fellow councilors, the suggestion that Áed could not garner allegiance on his own, the easy request that Áed offer more power to Elisedd by accepting his offer… those were all grotesque attempts to manipulate him. It was difficult to tell whether Elisedd was using those attempts to shield his subtler message, but it didn’t matter. Áed recognized the threat.
Elisedd had influence.
There were councilors who had little loyalty to the throne, and a great deal of loyalty to the Master of the Northeastern Quarter.
Be careful, Elisedd was warning. I can ruin you.
Áed kept his face mask-like as he offered a thin smile. “Thank you, Elisedd,” he said. “That’s kind.”
He bowed low. “Anything for the Coming King.”
“I know that reputations are fragile,” Áed continued, and thought he saw a strange expression flicker across Elisedd’s brow. “Perhaps it’s wise for both of us to tread carefully.”
There. A threat and a peace offering, neatly packaged.
He was good at this.
Elisedd’s face revealed nothing as he walked slowly down the stairs, beckoned to his son, and departed.
✽ ✽ ✽
After working slowly through a book in one of his chamber’s soft armchairs, Áed opened a window and let the air flood in to wake him properly. It brought the sounds of a waking palace with it. The courtyards buzzed as gardeners tended the flowers, a cook selected herbs and fruits for the kitchen, and a lady sat on a wicker bench to soak in the early sun. While the palace itself was not as vivacious as Áed had imagined, court life flourished beyond its walls; realization dawned on Áed that at that very moment, he felt like a king surveying his domain.
He would meet with the Council again today, but this time, it wouldn’t just be pleasantries. When he’d told Judoc there was a lot to talk about, he’d understated the truth. Not only would he have to ascertain the Council members’ true loyalties, but the more tangible issue of his coronation needed to be addressed, plans arranged and set in motion, and customs hastily learnt. Even with the cool morning breeze sweeping in from the window, the politics of it made him want to go back to bed.
For the second time that morning, a knock sounded at the door. Thinking perhaps it was Boudicca, he hurried over to answer it before the knocking woke Ronan.
Instead of Boudicca in a flame-colored dress or the General being dutifully polite, a man with about eighteen years stood outside the door. Though he hadn’t particularly caught Áed’s attention the first time they’d met, he recognized the young man immediately. “Éamon.”
Elisedd’s son bowed, and his hair, pale as corn silk, obscured periwinkle eyes. “Your Grace.”
Áed looked around the narrow hall, but it was empty save for Éamon and Áed’s guards. There was a pleasant lack of conniving about Éamon’s manner; his father oozed untrustworthiness, but the young man had an earnestness in his expression. “What brings you here again?”
“In truth, Your Grace, I came to apologize.” Éamon glanced left and right, as though Elisedd could be listening. “May I please come in?” Áed considered his face, found no malice, and stepped aside. Éamon nodded gratefully and moved inside, and Áed closed the door. Once inside, Éamon relaxed visibly. “Your Grace, I wanted to beg your pardon for my father’s actions earlier. He isn’t used to people seeing through him.” At that, a faint smile touched Éamon’s lips, and they parted over perfect teeth. “I admit, it was pleasant to watch.”
Áed regarded him with interest. He was certain that Éamon was there of his own purpose. Elisedd hadn’t sent him. Besides, Boudicca had spoken highly of her step-brother, and Áed trusted Boudicca. “You aren’t much like Elisedd, are you?”
Éamon shook his head. “No, Your Grace. I believe I take after my mother.”
“I know the feeling,” Áed said under his breath. Then he raised his voice and did his best to make it sound kingly. “I appreciate the apology. Thank you for coming.”
Éamon nodded, but didn’t move to leave. “Pardon, Your Grace, but there’s something else.”
Áed leaned against the wall and examined the young man’s eyes. “What’s that?”
“It’s just…” Éamon glanced about again, though they were alone in the antechamber. “A warning, I suppose.”
“A warning?” Áed quit leaning on the wall.
Éamon nodded again. “Of sorts. I don’t have any evidence except for what I know of my father, but I’ll tell you that I’ve never seen him as angry as he is now.” Éamon’s fingers found the hem of his shirt and lifted it up, and he turned so that Áed could see the clear mark of a bruising handprint on the toasted-sugar-colored skin of his back. A single strike, furious and controlled. “I’m not even the object of his anger.” Éamon let his shirt fall, and more of Áed’s reservations evaporated. If Elisedd’s son was willing to risk his father’s rage to come to Áed, then Áed was less chary of trusting him. “Be careful of him, Your Grace. You are the one he wants to hurt.” Éamon rubbed the bruise on his back and winced faintly. “And I believe he will try.”
“Thank you,” Áed said again, but this time, there wasn’t much kingly about the words. His gratitude was genuine. He had already pegged Elisedd as one to keep an eye on, but the risk Éamon was taking meant that the danger was serious. “Here,” he said. “Boudicca left some herbs with me. I have something that’ll clear that bruise.”
Éamon brightened a little. “Really?”
Áed nodded. “It works, I can attest to it.” He led Éamon to the table and sifted through the basket of food and supplies that Boudicca had brought earlier. “Here.” He awkwardly gripped the smooth bottle and offered it to Éamon, who took it. “I’ll be careful of Elisedd.” He nodded at Éamon’s back. “Perhaps you should be, too.”
Éamon shrugged. “I don’t think he’d do real damage.” He rolled his eyes and pocketed the balm. “I’m just his favorite child.”
“Rotten bastard.” The words were out of Áed’s mouth before he could catch them, and he immediately bit his tongue. “Sorry.” That hadn’t been very regal at all.
But Éamon only laughed. “Gods, I like you better than Seisyll.” Then he hastily added, “Your Grace.”
Áed waved it off. “Call me Áed. Please.”
Éamon’s chuckle turned into a grin. “Well, Áed, I like you much better than Seisyll. Quite frankly, I’m hopeful that my father doesn’t win this one. I’ve seen that too many times, and it’s taken its toll on me.” He put his hands in his pockets as he turned toward the door. “Oh,” he said as he made to step out. His broad shoulders turned back toward Áed. “I hardly ever get to see them, so if it’s no trouble, could you give my love to Boudicca? And my brother, too?”
“Of course.”
“Good luck with the Council today, Áed.” Éamon smiled, showing those perfect teeth again. “It was a pleasure to properly meet you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE<
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Boudicca arrived with breakfast shortly after Ronan woke up, and they shared a quiet meal. Her face lit up when Áed told her about Éamon, and she smiled and sat back. “You know, Cynwrig never liked him much, but Éamon and I always got on well. He’s kind.” She tilted her head. “And do you know, I doubt he has more than a year or two on you. Perhaps you two would be friends.”
They finished breakfast, and Ronan, black hair puffy and tangled, gave Áed a hug and slouched back upstairs to wash up. “Ronan,” Áed called up the stairs, and the boy turned at the landing. “I have to go talk to the Council, alright?”
“I’ll be staying here,” Boudicca added. “We can play marbles if you like.”
“Alright.” Ronan gave Áed a little wave. “Good luck, Áed.”
“Thanks, ceann beag. I’ll be back before you know it.”
He took another bit of bread, and Boudicca trapped him in a pleasant hug before he left. When he closed the door behind him, his guards stood at attention. “Are you going to the Council Chamber, Your Grace?” asked the guard who had fetched Judoc.
“I am.”
The guards’ presence was welcome as they walked with him through the chilly, vaulted halls. Áed didn’t know why he had imagined the palace as a bustling hub of life and politics with couriers rushing to and fro or nobles sweeping through the corridors in their finery, but the reality of the stillness brought an eerie relief.
“Áed, Your Grace!”
Áed startled; he’d been too focused to have noticed Elisedd, but now the man emerged from where he’d leaned easily behind one of the corridor’s vaulted ribs. He was wearing dark gray that day, his charcoal robes trimmed with black fur and adorned with silver embroidery, and he looked like a plume of smoke as his clothing shifted with his stride.
Elisedd broke into a conspiratorial smile. “Áed, I’m so pleased to have found you. You’re the very man I need to see right now.”
Áed raised an eyebrow. Elisedd was in high spirits, very clearly recovered from the embarrassment of that morning, and Áed did not like that at all. “Is that so?”
“Indeed, indeed. Although, I regret to say that I wish to speak to you of a rather delicate topic, so perhaps we may find privacy a moment?”
Though Elisedd’s face remained composed, Áed could feel the man’s glee beneath the tempered smile. “What topic?”
Elisedd pressed his lips together, forehead wrinkling in affected concern. “I’m afraid it pertains to you, Your Grace. Come, walk with me, there’s a private place this way.”
“I’m busy at the moment, Councilor.” Áed said the words experimentally, and their effect told him what he needed to know.
Elisedd’s smile twitched up at the corner. “Oh, Áed,” he said, his voice almost singsong in his giddiness. “I think you have time for me.”
This couldn’t be good.
Áed reluctantly followed Elisedd down a branch of the hallway, where the Master of the Northeastern Quarter unlocked a door with a key from his pocket. “Right this way, Your Grace.” Beyond the door was a small room, adorned with nothing but a table. Shelves lined the wall, heavy with papers and leather-bound ledgers. “This room houses the Council records,” Elisedd said, closing the door behind them as Áed’s guards stationed themselves outside the entrance. “It’s as private as any place.”
“Why have you brought me here?” Áed crossed his arms, but Elisedd didn’t note his impatience. The man took his time, finding the table and leaning against the edge, and then he simply sighed and fixed Áed with a stare.
“Áed,” he said, his smile growing once again. This time, it was patronizing. “You impress me, you know.” He ran a hand along the edge of the table, then brushed the dust off on his robe. It left a pale streak against the dark garment. “I’m sure if you tried to guess why I’ve brought you here, a young man of your intuition could find the truth.”
Áed didn’t like the way Elisedd had said ‘intuition.’ Something about that word in particular made Áed narrow his eyes at the silver-bearded man who leaned so casually on the table. “Perhaps you overestimate my intuition,” he said slowly, choosing to acknowledge nothing. All he felt was Elisedd’s excitement, and instinctive uneasiness in his own gut that warned him to tread carefully.
But Elisedd only sighed, still smirking. “Somehow, I think not.” Áed regarded him warily as the man pushed away from the table, but Elisedd only ambled to the side of the room. “Somehow, I think that you’re reading my every intention, easy as breathing.”
In ainm dé. But Elisedd didn’t know. There was no way he could know.
No expression crossed Áed’s face. “Strange flattery, Elisedd. What do you hope to achieve with it?”
Elisedd sighed. “Your Grace, why do you assume that I flatter you?” He absently ran a hand across the records on the shelf beside him. “I’ve been doing some research—such dull work befits men of my humble status—and I thought it my duty to inform you of my findings.”
The councilor, unable to remain still, made his way back to the table. Áed hadn’t moved, and he watched Elisedd carefully. “Really.”
The Quarter-Master folded his hands in front of him. “Your Grace, I’ve been examining some interesting stories.” He wetted his lips. “I started with the story of our murdered King.”
Áed’s breath caught at ‘murdered.’
Elisedd continued, observant eyes on Áed’s face. “I was there, you know, as the poor man died, and I heard his side of the events. He said that you pushed him, and with your touch came fire.” He adjusted his robes easily. “So I went to the throne room, and I stood in the place where he’d fallen, and I found that the nearest wall-torch was some fifty paces away.”
“He ran,” Áed said. “He was panicking.”
“Perhaps,” Elisedd said thoughtfully. “Or perhaps not.” The councilor was opposite the table from Áed, and he slowly began to move around the edge. “I decided to follow a hunch. Since this morning, I’ve been reading some interesting things—care to guess?”
“Not particularly.” If Áed left now, even if he made an excuse to leave, he knew it would affirm Elisedd’s theory.
“I’m certain that it’s already crossed your mind,” Elisedd replied. “You see, I started reading about our neighbors across the veil. The fae.” He shrugged, but the smile on his face ruined his nonchalance. “Fascinating, truly. Did you know, for example, that all of the fae share the same eyes?” His smile turned into a grin, spreading across his face. “It’s said they’re as red as blood. Or, perhaps more astutely, fire. Their eyes are all red as burning, deadly fire.”
Áed managed what he hoped was a bored sigh. “This is ridiculous, Elisedd.”
“Ah, please, Your Grace, I haven’t finished.” The councilor cleared his throat. “I found, too, that there’s a certain… perception with which the fae are gifted. They know a man’s intent at the sight of his face, or perhaps a word of his voice—the legends disagree on that point, but they concur that the emotions of a human being reveal themselves to the fae as naturally as if they were read from a book.
“And finally, the fire.” Elisedd spread his hands. “The legends say that, incredible as it is, the fae can call fire to their bodies. They can walk in it, can control it with a thought.” He shook his head. “Amazing, isn’t it?”
“You sound like a child,” Áed retorted. Boudicca’s and Judoc’s warnings were clamoring in his head like alarm bells, and his mind was moving quickly. “This is your research? You’re grasping at straws, my friend, and you’re humiliating yourself.”
Elisedd was quiet for a breath. Then: “Have I touched a nerve?”
Áed rolled his red, red eyes. “You’ve brought me here to accuse me of what? Of being one of the fae? Listen to yourself.”
“I have been,” Elisedd replied softly. “And I’ve found myself very rational.” He took another step in Áed’s direction. “The late king was a human. And yet it seems that you, Áed, are not. Tell me,
what does that make you?”
“I don’t have to waste my time with this.” Áed turned to the door, heart hammering.
Elisedd’s voice stopped him cold. “I wouldn’t,” the councilor said quietly, and the simple words were full of deep, deep threat. The texture of them rolled over Áed, powerful and horrible, and he shuddered at the sensation of their intent. “Áed,” Elisedd said amicably, “I have no issue with your claim to the throne. I advocated it, and I stand by that. But the rest of the court, the rest of the city…” He clucked his tongue and shook his head in mock regret. “I’m afraid that they wouldn’t be so open minded.” As if his point needed elaboration, the councilor drew a finger delicately across his throat. “I’m quite sure that the August Guard would be more than a match, even against fae fire.”
One foot before the other, Áed turned back to face the Master of the Northeastern Quarter. “You can prove nothing.”
But Elisedd only echoed Áed’s instinct: “I don’t need to.”
Áed nodded slowly. “Alright.” He ran his tongue across his bottom lip, taking a slow breath. “So this is to be a game of threats, then.” Before Elisedd could respond, Áed had crossed the room to stand directly in front of him. Áed was taller by only an inch or so, but the man cringed gratifyingly at the power in Áed’s eyes. “I am better at this than you are,” Áed murmured. “I can read your intent.” He rested a hand on the councilor’s shoulder, right at the base of his neck, and felt Elisedd’s pulse. A thought from Áed, and that pulse would boil away. Áed spoke quietly. “I know exactly how afraid you are to have me so near you, and I can tell you that your fear is well-placed. I can tell you, too, that I am capable of swaying every man in that Council chamber until they would roast you on a spit at my command, and I can tell you that you don’t stand a chance.” He moved a hair closer, until Elisedd was pressed against the table. “And if that doesn’t pacify me, I’ll just burn your head off your shoulders.”