by C. J. Archer
“I’ll take them.”
“They stay with me.”
“You don’t trust me?” he asked.
“Not at this juncture. You are just as likely to burn them before you even read them. I will keep them safe until it’s time to present them to the dukes.”
He pushed to his feet. “Do I at least get to choose when that time is?”
“It must be tomorrow. If you wait—”
“It will not be tomorrow,” he growled. “After I get my memory back—”
“Why wait?” she spat.
“Because I am not ready yet!”
She stood too, her eyes flashing, her lips pinched. “Very well. Get your memories back first. Then you will realize that you’ve been ready for this for years. You’ve had more than enough time to get used to the idea of being king.” She picked up her skirts and stormed off up the stairs.
Dane opened the door and left too, out into the night. I hesitated but followed him. Now might not be a good time to tell him my plan for finding Brant, but there would never be a good time for that. He wasn’t going to like it.
I found him stroking Lightning’s nose. The horse nuzzled closer, enjoying being with his master again.
“He missed you,” I said.
“And I missed him.”
“Are you returning to the garrison tonight?”
He nodded. “The cottage isn’t large enough for the five of you, let alone me. I’ll wait for Max and we’ll return together. Do you have everything you need?”
I put my arms around his waist from behind and rested my cheek against his back. “Not quite.”
I felt rather than heard his deep sigh. “Sorry for my outburst in there.”
“Actually I thought you were rather restrained. She shouldn’t have kept those letters from you.”
“Their existence has come as a shock. I’d made up my mind not to mention my father’s identity to the dukes because there was no evidence. But now…” He turned in my arms and cupped my face in his hands. “What do I do now, Josie?”
“I can’t answer that for you.”
“Advise me,” he said hotly. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against mine. “Sorry. I hate this. I hate what it’s doing to us, and what it might continue to do if my mother has her way.”
I kissed him lightly on the lips. “You did the right thing. You told her you’re going to wait until you get your memory back.”
“That doesn’t change who I am or the fact the letters exist.”
“No, but it will buy you time to think about what you want.”
He gave me a little shake. “I know what I want. That has never been in question. I want you.”
I leaned into him and closed my eyes. I did not tell him he could be king and have me too. It wasn’t my decision to make. Nor was it the best decision for Glancia.
“Dane,” I said pulling away. “I’ve thought of a way to find Brant.”
“Go on,” he said in that dark tone that could mean he was still mad at his mother or that he’d realized what I planned.
“I don’t think appealing to his better nature will work.”
“Agreed. He doesn’t have a better nature.”
“So we must bargain with him. We have to offer him something in exchange for a wish to return the memories. It has to be something better than what the Deerhorns have offered, if they have in fact made him an offer.”
“They will have, I’m sure of it. Whether that’s money or a position in exchange for a wish, I don’t know.”
“Perhaps both. He wouldn’t give up a single wish for just a single thing, he’ll be demanding two or more. So that’s what we must do. We promise him money, of course. He could sell jewels or ornaments from the king’s private collection.”
“And the second thing?” he asked.
“Make him captain of the palace guards with a good salary.”
He arched his brows. “You want him to have my job?”
“It’s something he wants. If he thinks he can lord it over you by taking it from you, then it’s a very big carrot to dangle in front of him.”
He nodded, thoughtful. “I doubt the men will accept him.”
“That’s for him to worry about.”
“What if he does what Leon did and ask to be a rich king with the third wish? It’s just the sort of thing he’d do, despite seeing what a disaster Leon made of it.”
“Then we point out how it ended in Leon’s death. Brant is selfish but not a fool. He knows Leon’s fate could be his own if he was greedy and asked for too much.”
Dane nodded slowly. “Very well, we’ve decided how to bargain with him for one of the wishes. How do you propose we find him?”
“We’ll draw him out of his hiding place. We’ll make him come to us.”
His hands tightened at my waist and even in the darkness, I could feel the ferocity of his glare. “No.”
“It’s the only way, Dane.”
“You are not going to be the bait. Is that understood? We’ll look for him before we resort to that tactic.”
“Listen to me.” When he turned his head away, I clasped it and made him look at me. “You think Meg and I are the only vulnerable ones to kidnap? What about Balthazar and Theodore? What if Brant gets his hands on Quentin? He hates Quentin, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he hurt him just to get back at you. The palace servants know Bal, Theo and Quentin are back. If a servant knows where Brant is, it won’t be long before he tries to kidnap one of them and blackmails you into giving up the gem. You can’t watch them and us, and we can’t all hide away here. If Brant succeeds in capturing one of us, we have no bargaining power. We lose all advantage.”
“I don’t want you to be the bait,” he said, his voice strained.
“I am the most obvious choice. He’ll go after me, just because he knows what I mean to you. This is the only way, Dane. We have to strike first.”
He tipped his head back and blinked up at the stars, but I doubted he saw them. I took his silence as ascent that he agreed to my plan.
I stroked his cheek again and he turned to me. I pointed to the sky. “Don’t look at me.”
“But I like looking at you.”
“Look up there.”
He tipped his head back and searched the sky. “Why?”
“Because you’re not noticing the stars.”
He smiled. “You remembered our conversation from the riverbank in Noxford.”
“I remember everything about that night. But yes, I remember what you said about not truly seeing the stars until then. I don’t want you to return to the days when the stars were invisible to you. I want you to see them, always.”
“It’s this place,” he muttered. “It distracts me from the stars. And from you.”
“The stars are always here, Dane, ready for when you have the time to look. And so am I.”
The servants knew every nook, cranny and room in the palace, including the hidden ones that the nobles never saw. By hiding in a small space behind a wall panel in the council chamber, I was able to listen in to the meeting with the dukes.
They had arrived separately, at around midday, accompanied by their armed guards and closest supporters. Those supporters and the dukes now crammed into the council chamber along with Dane, Balthazar, Theodore and the high priest of Glancia, who had arrived that morning. I watched proceedings through the spy hole in the wall along with Max. It was just us. No one else could fit.
Lord Deerhorn and his daughter, Lady Violette Morgrave, flanked the duke of Gladstow, with Lord Xavier and Lady Deerhorn walking in behind. Dane and Balthazar didn’t bow, but Theodore gave a small one.
They ignored him.
“What is the meaning of your letters?” the duke of Gladstow bellowed.
Theodore pulled out a chair and Balthazar bade the duke to sit. “Let’s make this as civilized as possible.”
Theodore set goblets of wine in front of each nobleman, but Lady Deerhorn pushed hers away. He
r family followed suit.
“It’s not poisoned,” Dane said.
Lady Deerhorn glared at him. “How has King Phillip been manipulating the situation?”
Dane told them about the letters supposedly sent from Glancian lords pledging their allegiance that had since been proved false. “The high priest can confirm it,” Dane said.
The high priest nodded. “It’s true. I didn’t want to interfere in this matter—”
“Then don’t,” Lady Deerhorn snapped.
The high priest pressed his lips together.
He had greeted us warmly upon his arrival, and he paid particular care to Balthazar, noting his frail appearance, his bent back and squint, even when he wore his spectacles. The high priest looked worried, and that worried me. Our travels had taken a toll on Balthazar. We should have taken better care of him and ridden at a slower pace. He’d not once complained and so we hadn’t seen what his friend now saw—an aging man who didn’t have long left in this world.
“It’s quite an accusation you make,” the duke of Buxton said. “Particularly without proof.”
“The proof should be easy enough to gather,” Dane said. “There are two ways you can do it. Sit down with your counterpart,” he nodded at the duke of Gladstow, “and compare a list of nobles that have pledged their support. If the same name appears on both lists, something is amiss.”
Lord Deerhorn snorted. “You are naïve if you think they should reveal that information to their enemy.”
Lord Xavier snorted too.
“Or,” Dane went on, unruffled, “you can visit the nobles who have pledged their support only by letter and find out from them in person if they sent it or not.”
“That will take time,” Lord Deerhorn said even as the duke of Gladstow nodded his head.
Balthazar lifted his goblet in salute. “You are correct, my lord.”
Lord Deerhorn frowned, as if he wasn’t sure if Balthazar was being condescending or not.
“He’s right,” the duke of Buxton said, turning to Gladstow. “We must delay. It’s in both our interests.”
“Why?” Lord Deerhorn sneered. “Because you know you don’t have the numbers?”
“Neither do you. Come, Gladstow, agree to a delay.”
The duke of Gladstow contemplated his wine.
“If you start a war too soon,” Balthazar pressed, “both armies will be decimated. Your soldiers aren’t ready. Is that what you want? To kill your young men by the hundreds?”
“Of course not,” the duke of Gladstow snapped.
“Don’t listen to them,” Lord Deerhorn said. “They’re manipulating us because they know we’ll win and they’re on Buxton’s side.
“For Merdu’s sake,” the high priest muttered. “All you will be doing is playing into Vytill’s hands. The only person to win from this situation is King Phillip. Do you want to be ruled by Vytill?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be neutral?” Lady Deerhorn hissed at him.
The high priest sat back and blinked at her, stunned by her open hostility. He didn’t know her like we did. This display was nothing.
“He’s right.” The duke of Buxton reached across the table, hand outstretched towards his counterpart. “We call a temporary truce while both sides confirm numbers.”
The duke of Gladstow sat forward, preparing to shake his enemy’s hand, when Lady Deerhorn suddenly rose. The legs of her chair scraped against the tiled floor.
“We only have their word about the interference,” she said. “Come. It was a mistake to agree to this meeting.”
The duke of Buxton pulled back his hand, shaking his head at Gladstow, as if he couldn’t believe he could let Lady Deerhorn make the decisions for him. Indeed, Gladstow used to be more forthright than this. He wouldn’t have allowed anyone to speak for him, let alone a woman.
“Can the duke of Gladstow not speak for himself?” Balthazar asked.
“Of course I can,” Gladstow growled.
“I have his best interests at heart.” Lady Deerhorn indicated her daughter, Lady Morgrave, sitting meekly at the back of the room. She smiled dutifully at her mother. “You wouldn’t know since you’ve been away, but my daughter is now the duchess of Gladstow.”
I clamped my hand over my mouth to make sure I emitted no sound. We had expected them to wed, but not so soon after Kitty’s supposed death.
“How quickly you two fell in love,” Balthazar said flatly.
The duke bristled. “Hold your tongue. Priest or no, I will gladly flay you for your insolent tone.”
“No,” the high priest said, his voice grating. “You will not.”
Balthazar smiled benignly. When he bestowed such a smile on me, I always found it a little irritating because it usually preceded a sarcastic comment. “I doubt their marriage cut out the duke’s tongue. I’m sure he would prefer to speak for himself about such an important matter as whether to start a war or not.”
The duke of Gladstow stood and his supporters followed suit. “Lady Deerhorn is one of my most trusted advisors. I value her opinion.”
The duke of Buxton made a scoffing sound. “So you’ll listen to her mad advice over your own conscience? You’re willing to see the lives and livelihoods of your best tenants ruined and your own coffers emptied just to appease your mother-in-law’s thirst for blood?”
“I am not appeasing anyone!” The duke of Gladstow tugged on his doublet hem as he fought to regain his composure. “While I value the opinion of my advisors, my decisions are my own. I’ll agree to the delay.”
Lady Deerhorn looked as though she wanted to throttle him. Her husband watched her carefully, as if he expected her to fly at the duke of Gladstow at any moment. But she kept her mouth shut. The flare of her nostrils indicated the effort it took to remain calm, however.
“One more thing before you go,” Balthazar said as the duke of Gladstow headed for the door. “I would like to have my position back as master of the palace.”
The high priest turned in his chair to look properly at him. “But your place is at the temple of Merdu’s Guards in Tilting.”
“Your Graces? I need the agreement of you both.”
“Of course you can,” the duke of Buxton said. “I don’t know how much there is for you to do here, but you’ve proven yourself to be competent at running this place and your sage advice is welcome too. You’ll be a valuable asset, no matter who wins.”
The high priest shook his head sadly.
Balthazar turned to the duke of Gladstow.
“No,” Lady Deerhorn snapped. “We don’t agree to it. We don’t trust you.”
Balthazar’s unnerving gaze remained on the duke.
He hesitated then nodded. “The palace servants need to be brought into line. Let some of them go. There are too many when there’s no king in residence.”
Everyone in that room knew why he’d gone against Lady Deerhorn. He’d wanted to prove that he was not ruled by her, that she had no power over him. Even in something as small as this. I wanted to laugh.
“And Dane should be reinstated as captain of the guards,” Balthazar went on. “The men are loyal to him and he has always been loyal to the crown.”
“There is no one wearing the crown at the moment,” the duke of Gladstow pointed out. “I vote no.”
Lady Deerhorn smiled that tight, cruel smile of hers that always sent a shiver down my spine.
The duke of Buxton sighed. “Sorry, Captain. I was going to say yes, but there’s no point if he doesn’t.”
Dane shrugged. “I was going to refuse it anyway. I have other plans. Sorry, Bal.”
The duke of Buxton rose and shook Dane’s hand. “Thank you for everything you’ve done. The realm is a little more secure tonight because of your efforts in unearthing King Phillip’s interference. Yours too, Your Eminence,” he said to the high priest.
The duke of Gladstow left without a word. His wife and brother-in-law went with him, and his father-in-law followed close behind. Lady Deer
horn, however, lingered. Her gaze scanned the room. She knew I was hiding behind a wall. It was as if she’d sniffed me out.
“Tell the midwife that she’ll find the village much changed since she left,” she said idly. “It's amazing what doors are re-opened when you're related to a duke. Everything she tried to destroy is once more ours, and if she tries to take it away again, the consequences will be drastic for her and those who assist her. The villagers know that now. They won’t dare take her side. Every single one of them knows who employs them. The magistrate, the jailor...all Deerhorn men. Even the new sheriff."
Dane’s head snapped up. “What did you do to Neerim?”
“Made an example of him.”
Hailia, no. The sheriff had been a good man. He hated injustice and had always done his best to defend the weak against the might of the Deerhorns. I prayed for him but feared the worst.
Dane closed his eyes and lowered his head.
Lady Deerhorn’s lips stretched into a smile. “That precious item you have in your possession…it’s useless without Brant. What a shame you don’t know where he is.”
“I suppose you do,” Balthazar said stiffly.
She walked off in the middle of his sentence. “Not at all,” she tossed over her shoulder.
I didn’t believe her for a moment.
“What was that about?” the high priest asked after she’d gone. “What item? Who is Brant?”
“Just a man,” Balthazar said, slumping in the chair. He looked and sounded exhausted from the confrontation. “Theo, more wine, please.”
Dane opened the hidden door and assisted me out of the secret room, much to the high priest’s surprise. “Pour some for Josie, too. She looks like she needs it.”
“Poor Sheriff Neerim,” I murmured. “He fought for me. He got the people to support me when he could not openly do it. Do you think the Deerhorns killed him?”
Dane’s answer was to fold me into his arms and tuck my head under his chin. “We’ll set it right, Josie. We won’t let the Deerhorns win.”
I wished I could be as confident. But all I felt was overwhelming sorrow and a sense of hopelessness. If the duke of Gladstow had enough support, the entire country could soon be under his rule. And Lady Deerhorn would take full advantage of her new position as the queen’s mother.