by A. C. Cobble
“Farview,” answered Ben.
Avery continued to frown, and Ben guessed the lord wasn’t any more familiar with Farview than he was with Lord Ben.
“And the army, it is sufficient to protect Issen?” asked Avery. “The Alliance and the Coalition have been building forces for years. I’m concerned that if we interpose between them, Issen could be destroyed. Amelie, do you think it wise to bring this force into the city and risk provoking the two armies? My father had intended to negotiate with them, to find an equitable solution that benefited Issen.”
“He would negotiate with them, or Lady Inslie would?” questioned Amelie.
“I, ah—”
“I know what your father intended, Lord Avery. I know who he was working with, also. You should know what the Veil intended. She was pursuing this war for her own reasons. The woman had no intention of allowing a peaceful negotiation to take place. She wanted the war. She shared knowledge of the law which stripped my mother’s titles so that the armies would march quickly. Battle was the outcome she desired. Battle and death. I appreciate your invitation to dinner, but do not think I’m some star-eyed little girl. Much has happened since I left, and I am a different person than you once knew.”
“I can see that,” agreed Lord Avery, sounding injured. “Just remember, any ruler without allies is sitting on an unsteady perch. After the vote today, you are legally the Lady of Issen. History is full of legal rulers toppling, though, isn’t it?”
“Is that a threat?”
“Only a warning, m’lady. I am your ally. Do not push me away.”
A moment of silence passed, then Amelie responded. “I will not. You are right. Our families have been close, and I hope it remains that way.”
Lord Avery, eyes locked on her, offered a short bow and then departed.
“I think that man wants to bed you,” mentioned Prem.
“I believe you are right. He does want that, that and a lot more.”
“He’s not bad on the eyes,” added Prem.
“I’m right here,” reminded Ben.
“I wasn’t suggesting Amelie bed him.” The former guardian laughed. “I’m just saying he is a well-built fellow, and I don’t doubt he has a great deal of experience. I suspect that like many things, experience can go a long way. Amelie is with you, of course, but for someone who is currently unattached and looking for a romp…”
“A romp?” exclaimed Rhys, sitting upright on the chaise. “Surely not with that fop!”
Prem dropped her feet from the furniture and stood, bringing her body close to the rogue’s face. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “What I do is of no concern to you… or is it?”
“I—”
Prem’s fingers trailed across the rogue’s cheek and then she walked on bare feet over to Amelie and Ben. “In addition to the man’s broad shoulders, I couldn’t help but notice what sounded like some subtle threats. His claim to be your ally rings false to me, Amelie.”
“Some subtle and some not-so-subtle threats,” murmured Amelie, pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers. “His father is Lord Dronson, and it seems all of this was merely a gamble to open the door for their true allies to take the throne. I don’t think the father or the son had any clue of the Veil’s true intent, but they certainly played into her hands.”
“It worked out conveniently for us, too,” mentioned Rhys. “If it wasn’t for Dronson’s timely application of ancient law, whether or not the Sanctuary’s political scholars unearthed it, your mother would still be the Lady of Issen, and Issen would be firmly within Coalition hands. Stripping her rank is the only thing that allowed you to take the empty seat.”
“Convenient, yes,” agreed Amelie. “It still leaves us in the position of yanking the rug out from under Dronson and House Tand’s feet just moments before they took control. I believe Lord Avery was earnest in his attempt to woo me. If he was able to marry me, he’d be Lord of Issen. It’s probably what he had in mind for Inslie as well. The others don’t have such easy options, though. They are ambitious people, and they’ve already gambled a great deal on the push to strip my mother’s title. They would have spent a fortune to gain support from the other highborn. I can’t imagine they’ll retire to their country estates and write off the loss.”
“So, we have to assume they’ll move against you,” said Ben.
“Assassins, poison, political maneuvering…” said Rhys. “They’ll strike at you, and soon.”
“I can delve my food so poison is no threat,” stated Amelie, “There are other highborn houses that I believe will support us full-throatedly. We should encourage them to employ food tasters if they do not already. They can surround themselves with guards who are personally loyal to them. I believe they will only be periphery targets, though.”
Rhys stood and began to pace the room. “The other highborn houses would be well-advised to be careful, but you’re right. The serious attempts will be against us. Killing other highborn wouldn’t get your enemies the throne, but it could earn them the enmity of the other houses. They could set off a war amongst the houses with no reward at the end. No, only by killing you can they achieve what they want.”
“If you can guard against poison,” said Ben, “that means we just need to worry about blades in the night and political attacks.”
“Just that? Oh, good,” said Prem.
“Don’t forget about the Alliance and the Coalition,” called Serrot from the corner of the room. “If we survive another four days, they’ll be here.”
“Rhys,” said Amelie, “will you lead the effort to guard against assassination attempts?”
“Of course,” agreed the rogue.
“Prem, can you assist him?” asked Amelie.
The former guardian shrugged, giving Rhys a look.
“She should stay with you,” suggested the rogue, offering an apologetic glance back at Prem. “Call her your personal assistant. That gives her an excuse to remain by your side at all times. When someone attacks, they’ll be looking for guards or men like me. She’s nearly as good with those long knives as I am. They’ll never expect it, and we can use that surprise to our advantage.”
“Nearly as good or a little bit better?” contested Prem.
“Nearly as good,” replied Rhys. After a pause, he added, “I’ve been practicing longer. As you said, experience counts.”
“Maybe. We could test it if we have another chance to spar.”
“Perhaps someday—”
“Can you two flirt another time?” grumbled Ben.
“Agreed,” said Amelie. “Are you able to work together?”
“I can,” said Prem, not turning to look at the rogue.
“We can,” agreed Rhys.
“Good,” said Amelie. “Ben, many of the household guard will remember me from when I was a child, but they know nothing about what I’ve been doing or what I will be like as a leader. They will be loyal, but it will not be a deep loyalty that has been earned. I think the easiest way to bolster our political position is by a stronger show of force. It’s not what we planned, but the value of visibility within Issen will be worth letting the Alliance and Coalition know we’re here. Ben, we need your men.”
Ben nodded. “Prem can ask her father to make haste.”
“I’d like you to go get them,” suggested Amelie.
Ben frowned.
“I know they can find Issen and the way to the castle on their own,” said Amelie, “but you walking at the head of the force will make a powerful statement. The highborn here, they think of titles, status, gold, and swords. They won’t understand or even believe your position as a general until they see you leading troops. When they do, they’ll have no choice but to acknowledge you. Having a proper general by my side with our own army will go a long way in convincing the highborn they made the right decision supporting me. It will go a long way toward convincing them we’re competent enough to lead them through what comes next.”
“You don’t w
ant to keep our presence secret from Alliance and Coalition spies?” queried Rhys.
“I think it’s more important to secure the throne,” replied Amelie.
“Amelie, it will be dangerous for you here. I can help—” started Ben.
“I am in danger,” interjected Amelie, “but Prem and Rhys are here to watch my back. Ben, there are those opposed to me in this city, but there are others who would die for my father. I believe I can count on them. Lord Flinn, for example, the one who made the motion to vote, was like a brother to my father, and I was like his niece.”
Ben scratched at the scar on his arm.
“We need to show Flinn and the others we can do this. Before you go, you’ll spend the night with me and then leave at first light.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him.
“Hey!” objected Rhys. “Now you’re the one—”
“She’s promising, not flirting,” interjected Prem, folding her arms under her breasts and raising an eyebrow at the rogue.
“It looks like flirting to me,” complained Rhys.
“Perhaps before my father gets here, I can explain the difference to you.”
“Your father—"
“If you think it’s best, Amelie,” agreed Ben, interrupting the rogue. “I’ll be worried about you the entire time I’m gone.”
“You’ll have to hurry back then,” said Amelie with a smile, “and take Serrot with you. As huntsman or a scout, he would not be expected to be loitering in my rooms. He should fit right in with the army, though.”
“Yes, I’ll go with Ben,” volunteered Serrot.
“First,” said Rhys, shaking his head and looking away from Prem, “we need to go address some guard captains. Ben, come with me. I could use another sword by my side, and as general, it’s proper for you to oversee the dispensation of the men.”
“You want me to stand around and look tough?” asked Ben.
Rhys shrugged. “If you can manage that. Plus, I need someone to help carry the ale when we come back.”
“I don’t know if we should leave Amelie alone,” said Ben. “Everyone keeps saying there will be assassins.”
“Word of her using magic to smash in the council doors is all over the castle by now,” assured Rhys. “Don’t worry. They won’t strike until they think she’s asleep. Besides, there are guards outside, Prem is here, and so is Serrot.”
The woodsman stood and puffed up his chest. “She’ll be in good hands until you get back, Ben.”
Amelie smiled at Serrot then nodded at Ben.
Out of excuses, Ben gestured for Rhys to led the way.
Later that evening, Ben set down a heavy silver fork and sat back with a contented sigh. “Best meal I’ve had since, well, I don’t know when.”
“It was good, wasn’t it?” responded Amelie, dabbing at her lips with a linen cloth. “One of the perks of being highborn, I suppose. We have an entire kitchen and staff at our disposal.”
“Our?” said Ben, reaching for a sparkling crystal glass half-full of a fruity red wine.
“You know what I mean,” replied Amelie, reaching for her glass as well.
Ben raised his then set it back down without drinking. “Amelie, Lord Avery was attempting to be your suitor. I’m sure he’s not going to be the last to come sniffing around.”
Amelie’s eyes flicked down before rising to meet Ben’s. “I’m with you, Ben.”
“They’re highborn,” replied Ben. “A betrothal to the right man could make things much easier on you. You could secure powerful allies, eliminate potential enemies. I’m sure they’d all like to see that.”
“Ben,” asked Amelie quietly, “is that what you want, for me to marry someone else?”
“No, I…” Ben sighed. “No, of course that’s not what I want. I want you to be with me, but, Amelie, you rule Issen. I’m just a brewer from Farview. Like you said, things will change now that we’re here.”
“You’re the man who gathered an army and faced down three thousand demons,” replied Amelie. “Are you going to let a few fussy, over-dressed men stand in the way of what you want?”
Ben looked at her, shifting in his seat nervously. “We’ve never really talked about what would happen when this was over, when we were safe. We’re not safe now, but Amelie, you don’t need to run anymore. You’re not going to be out chasing the horizon, looking for the next threat.”
“Are you?” she asked.
Ben raised his glass again and drank a mouthful of wine.
“Ben, you’re right,” she said. “I do have responsibilities to Issen. When this is over with the Alliance and the Coalition, I’ll stay here. Do you want to stay with me?”
“What do you want me to do?” asked Ben, his voice trembling.
“What do you want, Ben?” responded Amelie, leaning forward and holding his gaze.
“I-I’d like to stay, if that’s okay with you. I could get a job in the city,” he mumbled. “They have ale here, right? There must be room for another brewer. I could come by the castle as often as you want to see me. Amelie… however we need to work it out, I’d like to be near you.”
“Ben, you’re not going to get a job in the city,” said Amelie with a snort, sitting back, a smile curling her lips.
“What do you mean?”
“You want to stay here with me, right?” she asked. “I want you to stay here with me.” She gestured around the dining room they were seated in. “Do you think someone who eats here every night needs a job in the city? This wine probably costs more than what you would earn in a month.”
“I have to do something,” protested Ben.
Amelie twirled her glass and studied him, the smile still gracing her face. He couldn’t help but smile as well. She was beautiful. The light from the candles on their table made her eyes sparkle like emeralds. Her hair was piled up on her head, showing off the smooth skin of her neck. Staying with her in Issen was a dream he hadn’t let himself imagine.
“If you’re done eating,” said Amelie, a knowing look in her eyes, “there is one thing I have in mind that I’d like you to do.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Come. Let me show you the bedroom.”
A sound like a cat being dunked into an icy trough woke Ben from blissful slumber. He sat bolt upright, the silk sheets sliding off his naked torso. For a heartbeat, he thought it’d been a dream. Then, he heard a heavy thump. He slipped out of bed to investigate, picking up his longsword from a chair beside the bed and padding across the room on bare feet. Amelie was still in bed, breathing evenly, asleep. He pressed an ear against the door, not wanting to wake her until he knew something was amiss.
“Rhys,” hissed a whispered voice.
Ben lifted the latch and opened the door.
Prem was squatting on her haunches, hovering over a motionless body. A pool of blood was spreading from it. It was dressed in the livery of Amelie’s serving staff.
“Oh no,” murmured Ben.
Prem looked up, an eyebrow raised.
“I don’t think that was an assassin,” worried Ben.
The girl put a hand under the body and with a grunt, rolled it over. Underneath of it lay a short blade, the tip blackened with a shining liquid.
“Oh good,” said Ben. Then he paused and added, “I guess.”
“That’s one down,” said Rhys from a doorway. The rogue was shirtless, wearing only a pair of loose trousers and the leather harness which held his long knives.
“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” wondered Ben.
“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt… or pants?” retorted Rhys.
Ben flushed. The chill in the room suddenly washed over him, and he felt tiny goosebumps rising on his bare torso and legs. Fortunately, he’d thought to pull on a pair of underclothes before falling asleep, but that was all he was wearing.
“You look good,” said Prem, admiring Ben.
“What about me?” jested the rogue.
“You’re old,” replied Prem, not l
ooking at him.
“That’s not fair,” argued Rhys.
“It is true, though,” said Ben.
“What are you doing?” hissed Amelie from the doorway.
“Oh, sorry,” said Ben. “We didn’t mean to wake you. Prem killed this man. Don’t worry, though, I don’t think he works for you. He was carrying what looks like a poisoned dagger and was headed toward your… our room.”
“You didn’t think to wake me when an assassin was killed within steps of the door?” inquired Amelie.
Ben set the tip of his longsword on the floor and shrugged. Amelie let out an exasperated sigh.
“Normally,” said Rhys, “about this time I’d be fleeing the castle before the guards found the dead body. I suppose since the guards work for you, Amelie, we should let them know we killed an assassin. We might also want to do an inquiry on how this assassin got here.”
“Yes, we should,” agreed Amelie, “but I want your opinion first. Do you recognize him or anything about him?”
Rhys moved to squat next to the body, opposite of Prem. He looked at the man, his blade, and then the rogue shuffled through the would-be assassin’s clothing, searching for clues. He paused as he touched the man’s belt pouch and then unsheathed one of his long knives.
Rhys prodded at the cloth pouch with the tip of the blade. Ben gasped as a bright, silver needle stabbed out near the mouth of the container.
“Trapped,” murmured Rhys. “This man wasn’t some simple skulker on the streets of Issen. This was a true professional.”
“How many of these people are there?” muttered Ben in disgust. “I feel like we’ve been killing assassins all over Alcott.”
“It does usually work in the other direction,” mused Rhys.
“Seriously, nearly the entire assassins guild was wiped out in Irrefort,” complained Ben. “A score of them at Whitehall. How many more can there be?”
Rhys, gently trying to remove the man’s belt pouch without touching the needle, said, “Not many more of this caliber. The guild in Irrefort had some of the most respected assassins in the field, but they’re all dead now. Humboldt in Whitehall was one of the best, after me, of course. There is a guild in Narmid, and the City is filled with black knives. Whitehall had a handful, but I suspect most of them are dead. Fabrizo has only a few because the Thieves’ Guild runs that place. Issen I don’t think has any skilled enough to contract for Amelie and actually make it this close to her. Before yesterday, Issen had not had a contested succession in hundreds of years, and the economy is prosperous. No one had any reason to kill each other.”