****
“Forgive me for speaking my mind, sire, but I don’t like this,” Bardahlson said.
“I’m aware of that, commander,” Matthias said, toying with a quill pen. It was a week after the demon attack, and the Hellenes’ stay in Mons was coming to an end. “But all things considered, I would feel better knowing that you remained here in Ypres while the queen and I travel to Hellas. Holding down the fort, so to speak.”
Bardahlson’s mustache bristled. “My second in command is a most capable officer. He can take over for me while I escort you and the queen to Hellaspont.”
They were already two days late starting out for Danaë’s homeland. Matthias had held off until he was sure she had recovered. It took her informing him in no uncertain terms that she was queen of Hellas, thank you very much, and she was more than capable of traveling to her own country. An amused Ife had backed her up. Matthias had no choice after that but to order the royal convoy to be formed.
But that meant leaving Ypres without an official hand at the tiller. He knew Verheyen and the councilors would manage everything in his absence, but after Lukas’s betrayal he didn’t want to leave anything to chance. “I’m sure he’s more than capable. But you are the one who holds the personal loyalty of the garrison commanders. I would prefer you to stay here and keep watch over Ypres until I return.”
“Make sure Prince Lukas can’t pop out of whatever ferret hole he’s been hiding in and take the country by fiat, you mean,” Bardahlson rumbled.
Matthias gave his cavalry commander a cold look. “I meant precisely what I said, commander.”
Bardahlson was unrepentant. “Sire, Prince Lukas may be many things but he was never a fool. Launching a direct attack on the country would be doomed to failure, unless he’d managed to raise an army in the interim. As there is no news of forces marching on our borders, I think we can rest easy on that front. No, the best way to strike at you would be to do it on the road, most likely by staging an ambush in the Arpinnes.”
“Which I am aware of and will take care to avoid,” Matthias said, tired of arguing. “Gods, man, I’ll have at least a hundred people with me, a good half of them cavalry and royal guards.”
“And the rest of them useless courtiers.”
“Perhaps. If it salves your conscience, we’ll take your second in command with us as the convoy commander. His name is Schrader, isn’t it?”
“Lars Schrader, yes.” Bardahlson drummed his thick fingers on the desk. “He’d do, I suppose.”
“You were ready to leave him in charge of the country’s defense,” Matthias reminded him. “If he’s capable of that, he’s capable of overseeing the royal convoy’s security.”
“I hate it when you chop logic, sire. Fine. I’ll have him pack and get ready. But I’m sending couriers with you and I ask that you send back regular reports. For the councilors’ sake, of course.”
“Of course.” Matthias stood, picking up a signed document and handing it over. “Here’s your official charge giving you oversight of the military. And try not to run too roughshod over the council while I’m gone. Verheyen still complains about the last time I was out of the country.”
Bardahlson smirked at that, but struck his chest with his fist in salute. “As you wish, sire. And gods’ speed to you.”
After seeing the commander out Matthias headed over to the Hellenes’ office. As he expected, Danaë was packing various official papers into a case while Darius sprawled in the visitor’s chair with a goblet in one hand and a document in the other.
“Brother, do sit up when my husband comes into the room,” his wife ordered as he entered.
“My apologies, your majesty,” Darius said, shifting until he was sitting up more or less. “Last night was a rather long one.”
“Women or gaming?” Matthias asked, interested. The prince’s appetites had become legendary in the near fortnight he’d been resident in Mons, particularly among the scions of the Ypresian nobility. Matthias had already fielded a few angry fathers complaining about sons with lightened purses or battered faces. Thankfully there had been no reports of noble daughters who’d had their skirts lifted, but he thought it best that Danaë’s brother leave while his luck still held.
Darius waggled a hand back and forth. “A little of both, with some entertaining grappling on the side. Some buds of your nobility may be a bit bruised this morning. They had such a difficult time understanding that short does not always mean weak.”
Danaë lifted her head from her packing. “Oh, Darius. You didn’t,” she said in disapproval.
He held up his hands. “No permanent injuries apart from dented egos, sister dear, I assure you.” He looked at Matthias now, good humor dissipating. “I did hear an interesting bit of gossip about Prince Lukas, however. It seems that he was more dissatisfied with his position than he let on.”
Matthias leaned against one of the bookcases lining the room. “Oh? And where did this come from?”
“A hulking young brute named Lord Gaspar Pieters, the heir to one of your northern earldoms. Apparently he was one of the prince’s confidants.”
The king remembered the young nobleman, a tall and bulky individual with a tendency to bully the servants. He had been a common fixture in Lukas’s chambers, riding out with the prince on various hunting parties and other entertainments. “What did young lord Pieters have to say?”
“Nothing much, other than Lukas had a tendency when in his cups to talk about all the things he thought were wrong with the country and how he would fix them when he was king.” Darius lifted one elegant shoulder. “It could have been the wine talking, your majesty. But you may wish to have someone nose around the prince’s circle and see if there’s aught else to be found.”
Matthias nodded. “I’ll have someone do that. Thank you for your efforts.”
“I live to serve, O royal brother-in-law.”
Danaë rolled her eyes at her brother. “We’ll be ready to leave in the morning, Matthias,” she said, sealing the document case. “Flavia’s packing my trunks as we speak. Which reminds me, I have a request to make of you. I would like to bring Magistra Ife with us.”
His brows rose at that. “If you wish. But if I may ask, why? Between the cavalry escort and the guards coming with us I believe we can handle anything we encounter.”
“Not for that,” Danaë said, shaking her head. “It’s for me. I need to resume my training and the magistra has offered to be my mentor. She’s retired from active practice, so she has the time to work with me.”
It seemed strange that the little Ghobian mage would want to travel so far at her age. But Reniel had vouched for her. “How kind of her,” Matthias said, diplomatic. “Are you sure she’s up to the trip?”
“She assures me that she is. And she’s right—I’ve put off resuming my training for too long.” Danaë flexed her fingers, then turned her hands over and studied the palms. “I’m getting … itchy. I need to do something constructive with it.”
“I’ll inform the chamberlain to add her to the convoy rolls.” He leaned over and brushed a kiss over her lips. “I need to speak to Mohrs about my own packing. I’ll see you at dinner.”
A brilliant smile was his response. Satisfied, Matthias nodded to Darius and left the office.
He was halfway to the private wing when he heard, “Brother-in-law? May I speak with you?”
He paused and Margot stepped out of a shadowed doorway, her usually serene face concerned. “Of course, Margot. What can I do for you?”
Her hands twisted at her waist. “I understand you’re leaving tomorrow for Hellas.”
“Yes. In fact, I have to speak to my valet about my trunks, so—”
“Be careful.”
That stopped him. “I beg your pardon?”
She bit her lip. “Sire—Matthias. I know about the mirror.”
“Ah.” He knew it was impossible to keep gossip from spreading around the palace. “If you’re worried about it, I can assu
re you that it’s been safely stored. There won’t be any more trouble from it.”
“That’s not what worries me,” Margot insisted. “I’m worried about the queen.” There was a brief hesitation as she said the title. “Doesn’t it strike you as odd that you were attacked with a spell that was undetectable to anyone but a mage? There’s only one I can think of who’s been in the palace recently, and who had access to your rooms.”
Matthias had his mouth open to explain the mirror’s provenance and Lukas’s involvement, then hesitated. Margot had doted on her nephew, considering him the son she had never had. Telling her about his treasonous plot would cause her unnecessary pain. “Danaë wasn’t involved in this,” he said instead. “In fact, she saved my life, and I trust her with it.”
Margot looked shocked at his declaration. “You’ve been married to her for less than a fortnight. How can you be so sure about her?”
“I have my reasons. Please trust me, we have nothing to fear from her.” He reached out and touched Margot’s arm. It felt chilled under his touch. “I appreciate your concern, though. It’s good to know that I still have family in my corner.”
“Always, Matthias.” Her hand covered his, squeezing once. It felt as cold as her arm. “Safe travels. And please be careful.”
“I will.” Disturbed by the odd conversation from his sister-in-law, Matthias turned and continued on towards his chambers.
5
A QUESTION OF HEIRS
The royal convoy left the city the next morning, passing through the main gates to cheers from the gathered residents. Matthias and Danaë rode together, with Darius, the rest of the Hellene contingent, and various courtiers behind them. Magistra Ife had been ensconced in a wagon due to her age, with a young servant girl assigned to look after her, and Danaë had promised to ride with her each day so that the magistra could continue her tutoring. Flavia and Mohrs rode with the other Ypresian and Hellene servants, and the whole of the convoy was surrounded by armed cavalry and royal guards led by Lieutenant Commander Lars Schrader, Bardahlson’s second in command.
By mid-afternoon the convoy was trundling across the golden grasslands, taking up the full width of the Kasterlee Road. At least the weather was perfect for traveling, Danaë thought, with a blue sky dotted with puffy white clouds and a pleasant breeze blowing in from the west.
More comfortable in the saddle now, she gazed around her new country with interest, listening to Matthias’s running commentary on the different ranches that dotted this area and tales of tracking down horse thieves with the cavalry patrols when he was a prince. “How far does the Great Grassland extend?” she asked.
“For at least a hundred miles, from the base of the Arpinnes in the east to the River Caalen in the west,” Matthias said. “The landscape changes after that, turning drier as it approaches the border of Ghobos. Next year I’ll have to take you on a proper tour.”
“And you’ll need to come on a tour of the islands,” Danaë said. “Hellaspont is on Rhodope, of course, and we can take a day trip across to Minos, which is beautiful. But I’d love to show you the rest of the archipelago. There are tiny islands with bays where the water is so clear it looks like your boat is floating in air.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Matthias said. “I’ve always enjoyed our visits to Hellas. You do have a beautiful country.”
“As do you,” Danaë said, nodding at the rippling plains surrounding them. “At first I thought I would feel trapped, surrounded by so much land. But this is like sailing on a golden ocean.”
Her bay took the opportunity to snort, tossing its head. “Although you’re nothing like a dolphin,” she said with a laugh, patting the horse’s neck.
“Have you ridden a dolphin?” Matthias asked, curious.
“Not since I was a child, and even then it wasn’t so much riding them as holding onto their fins as they pull you along,” Danaë explained. “But it was a great deal of fun, and I still enjoy swimming with them when I get the chance. There’s a small bay near the palace that’s reserved for the royal family’s use. We swam there often, and the dolphins always came in to say hello and play with us.” An amused smile danced over his queen’s face. “There was one female dolphin that I swore had a crush on Darius. It followed him everywhere in the bay like a puppy.”
“Why does that not surprise me,” Matthias said, chuckling. His attention was diverted by one of the riders ahead of them dropping back. Even if he hadn’t seen the uniform insignia he would have recognized Lars Schrader by his short shock of pale hair.
The lieutenant commander maneuvered until he was alongside Matthias. “The advance scouts report that the road ahead is clear,” he reported. “I have outriders flanking us in the grass alongside the road as well. If nothing untoward happens, we should reach the estate of Count d’Vrengny by late afternoon.”
“Excellent,” Matthias said. “We’ll make camp outside the estate. Set up the usual patrols.”
“Yes, sire.” Schrader clucked at his horse and headed back to the front of the convoy.
****
“Who is Count d’Vrengny?” Danaë asked.
“An old friend of mine,” Matthias explained. “He used to be a councilor until his gout got the better of him and he decided to retire to his estate. He’s almost as cunning as Reniel and has a finger in any number of noble pies. I’m hoping he may know something about Lukas’s connections. If there are any other smoldering plots out there, I want to know about them.”
She leaned across, touching his hand. “I’m sorry you have to deal with this,” she said. “I know it’s part and parcel of ruling, but still.”
Matthias rode along silently for a few moments. “Looking back, I now see the signs of Lukas’s unrest, little moments here and there,” he said. “I should have done something about it earlier, but I put it down to youthful high spirits, something he’d grow out of. That was my mistake, and Hanne paid the price for it.”
That she had to nip in the bud. “No, Matthias,” Danaë said, her tone firm. “You cannot blame yourself for Hanne’s death. Lukas didn’t have to choose the course he did. If he wanted to rule, he should have come to you and asked for more responsibility, more chances to learn and grow as a ruler. But from what I could tell, Lukas was far more interested in himself than in his country. And I say that as someone who was also raised as the heir of a king. ”
“I know,” Matthias said, bleak. “He’d had that selfish streak since he was a child. But it was paired with so much charm that you wound up laughing at the same time you wanted to throttle the little imp.”
Danaë could understand that. The crown prince had been personable enough to her, making her laugh and keeping her entertained during their visits. But even then she could feel something underneath his charm, something brittle and self-serving. “It would help if we knew more about the mirror and its provenance,” she offered. “I suppose he could have misunderstood what it was and thought it some sort of amusing prank to pull on you. Or perhaps he honestly didn’t know about the spell.”
Matthias shook his head. “It’s very kind of you to try and ease my mind. But the more I hear about his dissatisfaction with me, the more I wonder what else I didn’t know about my son.” He looked ahead to the plains and the pale blue shadows of mountains in the distance. “I’m hoping that d’Vrengny can help with that.”
The nobleman’s estate turned out to be a large compound set near the banks of a shallow river lined with short, scrubby trees. The royal party passed through the gates and found themselves in front of a three-story stone building that struck Danaë as oddly featureless apart from a large reinforced set of outer doors. A curious Darius commented on this to Matthias.
“It’s for safety,” the king explained as they dismounted, handing off their horses to waiting stable hands. “This far out from a town or city, d’Vrengny is on his own against horse thieves or other bandits. Thus the house is built around a large inner courtyard and the windows face onto that.�
��
As a defensive design it made sense. “Is there much threat from bandits?” Danaë asked.
Matthias chuckled. “Not since the cavalry patrols were formed by Bardahlson’s predecessor. But every so often a handful of rascals show up at one of the more remote estates and try their luck. D’Vrengny considers it excellent target practice for his guards.”
Danaë understood what he meant as soon as the compound’s doors opened, revealing themselves to be reinforced with iron bands on the inside as well as the outside. They passed through a short covered corridor to the main courtyard, a large cobblestoned square that was shaded with assorted fruit trees. Potted decorative plants gave the space a lush, tropical feel, and a beautiful white marble fountain gurgled water in the middle of the courtyard.
Next to the fountain sat a very portly man with a thick shock of grey-streaked brown hair, one bandaged foot propped up on a padded stool. He struggled to get up at their approach.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Caspar,” Matthias said, waving at the other man to sit back down. “If you do any more damage to that foot Marthe will have my guts for garters.”
“Ha. You have nothing to worry about, sire,” the nobleman huffed, settling back in his seat. “Marthe likes you. It’s me who has to live with her, and her with a tongue sharper than a saber blade.”
“And you wouldn’t have it any other way.” Matthias put his arm around Danaë. “My dear, allow me to present Lord Caspar d’Vrengny, one of the finest politicians it’s been my regret to match wits with.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lord d’Vrengny,” Danaë said, smiling.
“Not nearly as much of a pleasure as it is to meet you, your majesty.” D’Vrengny gave her a respectful seated bow. “I was very happy to hear the news of your wedding. I would have attended, but,” he waved at his wrapped foot.
“We got your present, never fear,” Matthias said, glancing around the courtyard. “Where is your good lady wife, by the way?”
D'Vrengny looked chagrined. “Dealing with the twins, I’m afraid. They were working on a festive presentation for your arrival and things got a bit carried away—”
empress of storms Page 9