So far, Alcine hadn't replaced the palace staff. Well, replacing all of them was impossible, as the palace had several hundred of them, but they did need to get rid of those closest to Gardwig and Milia. It was too risky to let them be.
Some wretch might prove too fond of their late masters, pour a handful of rat poison into the kettle, and goodbye, Your Majesty. Things happened.
She hadn't considered that before, but not anymore. She even had a dagger under her pillow, although she hoped not to use it. She was a lady, not a fighter. She was to be protected, not protect herself. Yet the dagger calmed her nerves.
Wine wouldn't do. What, then? A man would be nice. At the estate, Albitta had often entertained herself in that way without caring much for what Alcine thought, but in the palace... No, she couldn't. It wasn't the right time, and she didn't have the right men. Mercenaries were mercenaries; nobody knew how many brothels they had visited. Albitta really didn't want to treat a shameful disease.
The courtiers weren't a good idea, either. She couldn't trust them. They might fawn and grovel, but at the bottom of their eyes, like mud at the bottom of a swamp, lay fear, dark and nasty. They didn't respect her; they were afraid—for themselves, for their families... That's why they kowtowed. But what would come later?
Same old. If you bring a reptile home, don't act all shocked when it bites you. Such is the nature of those creatures.
Have you ever seen a snake? Are they known for their gratitude? Their love, their affection? If you set it free, it will just slither around, hissing, until one day it finally sinks its fangs into your hand.
No, Albitta couldn't trust anyone yet—neither her own people nor others...nobody.
Robert had told her to wait a year. If they managed to hold onto the throne, things would change. Their neighbors would acknowledge them; alliances would be made...
Oh yes, an alliance. It was impossible to ally with Ativerna. Someone must become a scapegoat; why not the Ativernans? It seemed convenient. The king had visited the country; there was that shady business with the wedding; and everything started as soon as their ambassador arrived. Maybe they could try striking a deal with Ivernea...but the Ivernean party turned out to be hollow. Just like the Ativernan one.
What else did they have? Avester? Absolutely. Thankfully, she had four daughters. None of them could compete with her son, but they did need to be married off—to suitable countries, that is.
Four daughters...although the eldest was still at large. Where could she be? How was she?
No, not quite that. Who was she with?
Albitta didn't really care much about Maria's life or health. It didn't matter. So what if she was her daughter? She hadn't seen her for more than a decade and might not get to see her for just as long. What was there to grieve? But the rest...
Maria had been intended as a pledge of friendship with Ativerna. If she managed to get there, that would mean war. Maria would become its banner. Albitta didn't want a war, though; she wanted two things: power and revenge.
She had almost gotten the first; all that remained was to see Milia's head. Albitta would have even spared her children, in truth. She'd send them to foster in poor families, and afterward, let Aldonai decide whether they survived. In fairy tales, foundlings raised by peasants might run away to find their parents, become knights or save the king and marry the princess. In reality, such children never got to see the land beyond their village and were content to stay there, living, growing turnips or whatever it was those muckworms grew.
That was not the point; power was.
If war broke out, Alcine would take all power. That was not Albitta's wish. Her wish was for balls, parties, splendor, and everything else she had longed for all those years thanks to her former husband. And she would get it! She was already getting it!
The diamonds in her rings gleamed in the light of the stars. Albitta admired their sparkle and smiled, content. Yes, that was her. At last, she had turned the tables on those who made her suffer!
The luster of diamonds calmed her down, entrancing her. She turned over on her side, admired the rings again, then took a bracelet from the dressing table and fiddled with it. She fell asleep—still clutching the bracelet—deep and sound, like a person with a clean conscience and a pure soul.
***
Edwin Fremont stormed into the embassy of Ativerna.
He didn't have to, though, as there was nobody inside. After getting a warning, Thomas Concord had wasted no time in gathering people, not wanting to leave them to be slaughtered. Baron Fremont ended up with nothing—literally. Thomas had taken everything he could get his hands on, as long as it was valuable.
He didn't take furniture, of course, but the carpets were gone, as were the tapestries, silver candlesticks, cutlery, and even the masters' personal belongings. Why not? Cart drivers were experts able to pack up an elephant in half an hour while it wouldn't even flinch. Thomas had more than half an hour, and he used that time for all it was worth.
All the baron could do was to run about the embassy, kick the stools graciously left for him, and emit a stream of choicest profanities. Alas, it didn't help. Aldonai couldn't hear him, and Maldonaya chose not to reply.
He had to go tell the duke that the bird had slipped away. Edwin wasn't stupid; in fact, he was a quick thinker. But his thoughts didn't please him a bit.
Who could warn the embassy? Only one of those who had escaped: either Jerisson or Lilian Earton. Bastards!
Instead of trying to seduce the countess, he should have twisted her neck. But who could ever know?
***
As soon as the baron left, Jack and Remi climbed out of their hiding places. They exchanged looks.
After his visit, how much more proof did they need?
"I'll go to the viscount. Will you come with me?" Remi asked.
Jack nodded. He would come, and he would tell everything he had seen and heard. Baron Fremont was in a foul temper and had run his mouth off, even mentioning the dead as a doornail (Aldonai have mercy) king and lots of other things.
Just thinking about it made Jack shudder, but to find himself in the middle of such a nightmare? All he could do was to pray to Aldonai. Maybe he would save them.
***
As the viscount heard the account, his expression turned dark. Then he started making arrangements. In such circumstances, the best thing was to get far away from the capital.
Who had done it? How? Who to retaliate against? What to do? The time for these questions would come later. So far, the most important thing was not to get killed.
"Can I hire you?"
Jack considered his words.
"I'll talk to Thom. We need to get out of the city anyway. We might be of use to each other, Your Grace."
"I'll be waiting for you in two hours, alone or with Thom."
Jack bowed and disappeared. In two hours, he returned bearing good news, and four hours later, several more people were on the run from Cardin.
Everyone was pleased. Viscount Dishan learned what was going on and secured himself and his family, having also sent out messages to some of his friends. Let them decide for themselves; they got a warning. If they ignored it, it was their problem. Jack received a tidy sum from Dishan. Remi, for his part, was also rewarded. So far, in money, but he was also promised other favors. Thom, in turn, was sure to get his own recognition for rendering a service to a highborn Wellsterian nobleman. And if he didn't... Well, then it wouldn't matter anyway, as it would mean their lives were forfeit.
Viscount Dishan wasn't going to rely on Aldonai's mercy. He would defend himself and his loved ones, and the rest remained to be seen. If his father wouldn't return or send a message, he should assume the worst and consider himself the head of the family. The viscount genuinely hoped it not to be the case, but it wouldn't make it any easier for him. He needed to save his mother, his wife, his children, and, preferably, their valuables as well. So he chose to make arrangements and play it safe, and the future show
ed that he chose right.
Alcine didn't think about the other Dishans straight away, so when his men came to the manor by noon, they found an empty nest, completely cleaned out. The viscount had followed the example of the Ativernans and scraped the place out of all small and expensive items while stashing away the larger objects. The only thing to be gained was furniture, but how much profit was in that?
None. There were no people and no money.
***
"Come out, Your Grace."
With an effort, Lilian crawled out from under the canopy, rubbing her hurting hips.
Milia was so weak she could barely move; they had to pull her out in their arms. Such strain just after giving birth! And even before, really. She should be lying for a few days on a comfy bed instead of that. It was all really screwed up; Lily couldn't find another phrase or another opinion, really.
They laid Her Majesty on several cloaks and attended to the others. The Eveers climbed out one after another, and Rutha flung herself at Lily, sobbing.
"I was so scared! SO SCARED! YOU'RE ALIVE!"
She didn't really have any other words left. Lily started stroking the girl's dark braids, thinking that Gael would have been a better comfort. Well, baby steps. At least, he had become Rutha's savior, hero, and knight; the rest would come.
Still, the others weren't about to let Rutha cry for long. Miranda clung to her mother's neck, and then, the dogs swooped in as well. In the end, the countess found herself lying flat on her back on the grass, laughing as she was kissed and licked from all three sides. Lily could stand up only after three minutes, and even then wasn't able to tear Miranda away from herself. The girl pressed herself against her chest, put her arms around her shoulders, and fell silent. She clearly wasn't going to part with her mother anytime soon.
Master Salsi was the first to bow to Lilian.
"Once again, you're saving us, Your Grace."
Lily waved with her free hand.
"Ah, come on, Master. You've saved my daughter, and if I was able to help you, let's call us even. Do you mind calling me by my name? Let's save time."
He opened his mouth, then considered his words and closed it again, bowing instead.
"Kort Salsi, at your service, Lilian."
"We're all in the same boat."
Lily wasted no time before holding an impromptu operational briefing while women dispensed with waterworks and checked up on their children and men stretched their bodies after lying around inside the carts.
Master Salsi nodded. He had already figured something out from bits and pieces of explanations, but that wasn't nearly enough to make a decision. He needed details.
Famously, Maldonaya hid in the details like a snake in the grass; you'd never see either until you stepped right there. Master Salsi didn't really want that, as the price was too high: life, and not just his, but of his children, his grandchildren, and his entire people—at least the part that lived in Wellster.
For some reason, historically, the Eveers always got a beating.
What for? Well, if there really was a good reason, they would have been slaughtered to a man. They were persecuted for their faith, for being different from others, for their wealth, for...it was a long list.
Of course, he had put the word out and knew what was going on in the Eveer quarter at that moment. People were seeking shelter. Cardin was an old city, and any old city has old houses, basements, catacombs... They could serve as good hideouts, even for a month, as long as you had supplies, and the Eveers had them.
Why hadn't the master himself used one of those places? Well, have you tried controlling the situation and monitoring the scene from a cellar? It was impossible; you would need to be free to move around, to maneuver, to gather information... Something like that couldn't be pulled off while sitting in one spot with no contact with the outside.
Some of the Eveers spread out to take refuge with their friends and associates, one or two people at a time. Others, like himself, packed up, stuffing their valuables in safe places, and left the city— completely logical solution. It would be too late to hide after the beatings started, anyway.
Therefore, he was quite receptive to Her Grace's ideas.
"Your Majesty, may I?"
"Yes," they heard from the cloaks.
Master Salsi whistled—not out loud, of course.
Her Majesty Milia? Oh my! By Maldonaya's knickers!
He had seen the queen during celebrations and remembered her face—such was his trade. But to recognize her in such a state? So what had happened?
Lily didn't drag it out.
"Everyone, please sit down and try not to be distracted. His Majesty Gardwig was killed last night."
Fortunately for Master Salsi, he had heeded the countess' words and sat down beforehand, or he would have dropped down right where he stood. Meanwhile, Lily, all calm and serene, recounted how the conspirators attacked the king and tried to fight their way to the queen, but the king blocked their way, buying time for his family at the expense of his own life. She talked about how they fled through the secret passage, how Milia's labor started, forcing Lily herself to deliver the baby, and how she then sent a message to the Virmans.
She was self-composed, and her eyes were dry; only her hand moved as she caressed her daughter's back, comforting her. Kort appreciated that. No crying, to tears, no hysterics—only cold facts and her reading of the situation, specifically from Lilian Earton's point of view. That commanded respect.
"Now, we're here, and we're together. We have only one option: to reach the Summer Palace, where Count Chantaine's garrison is quartered. If we make it, we'll be protected and might get a chance to return to the capital and deal with the conspirators using force."
"Do you think it's a conspiracy?" Master Salsi asked, staring right into the countess' face.
As she described horrific things, she stayed dead calm, as if...as if she had seen worse. But how? Her age...she was twice as young as he, maybe even more! And it wasn't due to a shock, Kort could tell. That was just how she saw life. Astounding!
Lily smiled to the master with the corners of her mouth, but her eyes weren't smiling.
"It's stupid to kill the king without putting your own candidate on the throne. I'm sure we're already hunted. Still, if we hurry, they won't find us. Another thing that troubles me is that the only way for us to move quickly is on horseback, but Her Majesty Milia should not even entertain this thought."
"I'll do it," the queen tried to say, but Lily's glare made even the master shudder.
"Leave three children orphaned? That's what you'll do! Maybe I should give you a knife, too, so you can speed things up? I don't even know what gods I should pray to so you don't get swelling and catch some sickness..."
Once again, the master felt intimidated. The way Lilian talked, it was different. People didn't use that tone when speaking to a queen. Usually, everyone was exceedingly polite toward royals, knowing that the king held power over their life and death—and so did the queen, especially with Gardwig being dead. Lily, however, genuinely believed herself to be in charge.
No, not even that. She believed herself to be equal to the queen.
The master didn't even doubt that Milia would yell at her, reprimand her...how could she stand to be treated like that? Lilian might be calm and polite, but she had completely forgotten about...well, everything.
Lily sighed as she caught Master Salsi's stare. Yes, Your Grace, you're no good at staying in character. As soon as she found herself in a critical situation, she reverted back into Aliya, the twenty-first century medic with a completely different style of behavior.
"Please pardon me for being rude," Lily apologized. "Your Majesty, I didn't save you for you to die now."
"It's all right," they heard a rustle from the cloak heap. "Countess, you're right. I didn't consider the consequences."
"We'll deal with it," Olav waved his hand. "Let's use the old method and fix up a stretcher."
"How
's that?" Lily inquired.
"We've done it before. Take two horses, put a stretcher between them..."
Lily scratched her nose and remembered the Swedish king Charles XII, who had been carried exactly the same way at the Battle of Poltava against Russia, and considered the suggestion.
"Won't the queen fall down this way?"
"It's not our first run, Your Grace," Olav said, grinning. "We have a wee bit of wood, a spot of rope—we'll slap together this thingy, just you wait. It'll swing around, but we're used to that."
"You are, but for Her Majesty, it will be even worse than inside," Lily sighed. "No. Let's leave at least one cart for the weakest of us to carry the baby and the children. Make it as light as possible, stuff some straw inside and whatever else you can find in the village... Can you do it?"
"What's so hard about it?" the Virman shrugged. "We'll get it done. It would be even quicker, anyways."
Lily smiled at Olav. Those people were as good as gold! They were worth their weight in diamonds, at the very least.
"Woof," someone said politely next to her, slipping their moist nose and fluffy paw under her hand. Nanook requested his beloved mistress to confirm her presence.
Lily patted her mutt on the head. Lou-Lou, Nanook, Mirrie... Gah, the order didn't matter. They were safe. That's what mattered.
In the meantime, Bertha was consoling the princes, or rather the eldest ones, as the youngest was given to his mother so he wouldn't cry. As she watched them, she thought that they had gotten lucky. She knew all the flaws of her beloved Millie, who was a wonderful woman, but embarrassingly indecisive. If not for Lilian Earton, they would still be hiding in the secret passage. With her, Aldonai help them, they stood a chance of reuniting with their people.
What would they have done without Lilian, really?
The Road of Kings: A Strong Woman in the Middle Ages (A Medieval Tale Book 8) Page 4