Woord rushed out of the room, effectively ending the council session.
“Another death,” said Ackerle, who was sitting next to her. “They seem to rip through us, shock us to the core. Fronsac isn’t anywhere near the shock that Raufasger’s death had been, of course. That sounds awful, doesn’t it? I meant—”
“I know what you meant,” Ashra cut in.
Ackerle shuddered. “Falling to one’s death. That must be awful. Do you think he might have been drunk? Perhaps he hadn’t been conscious of it.”
“It’s prior to lunch. I doubt he was drunk.” Fronsac wasn’t known for being a lush. There were some people around here for whom news like this wouldn’t be a great surprise, but Fronsac wasn’t one of them.
Ashra’s eyes sought Lorcan and she saw his scowl. He didn’t think it was likely to be an accident either. Her gaze traveled along to Wierstoke, who was deep in conversation with Corston. To Ashra, it felt almost as if Wierstoke had been privy to the conversation the other night when they had bet that Lorcan could steal Bridgetonne from him. Fronsac had been trying to improve his position with Bridgetonne.
There was no way Wierstoke could have overheard that, unless either Lorcan or Fiedra told him. Lorcan wouldn’t have, but could Fiedra have? Was this some means for Wierstoke to exact retribution?
Wild thoughts were running away with her. Of course not, she chided herself; she was being fanciful. If anyone had wanted to hurt Fronsac, it would have been Roenbaum.
Roenbaum was standing nearby, looking almost pleased with this news. “Obviously, I can’t say this news distresses me. No one deserved it more than that little twerp. The world does right itself after a while, doesn’t it?”
Someone in his group said something she couldn’t overhear.
“Not me,” Roenbaum said, offended. “I haven’t been anywhere near his apartments in years. Why would I go there? And I spent the morning in Madame Gwenoch’s delectable… parlor. Came straight here. I haven’t even been back to my apartments. Poor Fronsac, he will be missed,” Roenbaum said with clear sarcasm.
Ashra hadn’t known Roenbaum had been having an affair with Madame Gwenoch, whose stocks had flagged since Raufasger’s death. It seemed she had found her new champion in Roenbaum. If this were true, it meant Roenbaum had an alibi for all of this morning. It didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t responsible.
The idea of someone coming into Fronsac’s apartments and manhandling him over the balcony made Ashra’s blood run cold, but she knew full well there were people here who would. From what she’d heard, it wasn’t the first time someone had murdered a rival. In the past, though, Raufasger took deep offense to anyone questioning the security of his courtiers. It had seemed like lack of control when they were murdering each other under his nose. He had strongly discouraged it—if they didn’t have his support.
But there was no Raufasger to keep people in check anymore. This was becoming apparent in almost every part of life at the citadel. There was no higher power and nothing to fear. What would happen when this person was caught? They would have to conduct a trial.
*
Most people wore dark and muted colors at the gathering that had been called to mourn the passing of one of the esteemed members of the court. It was the first gathering planned and executed by the administration since Raufasger’s death.
Finger food was offered around the space on trays, but no drinks. It was a muted affair compared to something Raufasger would have planned. Then again, she had never seen him plan a mourning.
From what she’d heard, the funeral was to be back at the Fronsac estate, his remains already having been transported, along with a contingent of guard in case some desperate robbers attack the convoy.
Whispers filled the whole room, about Fronsac’s death, the succession and who knew what else. Ashra absolutely didn’t want to be there, but felt she had to pay her respects. The day seemed to go from bad to worse, but not as bad a day as Fronsac’s family was having.
Ashra couldn’t help but doubt that they would never find the killer. Roenbaum had a solid alibi. He could have hired someone and used Madame Gwenoch to ensure he was nowhere near the crime. Unless some witness to the transaction came forward, they would never know. That wasn’t right. It couldn’t be right that someone simply gets murdered and the killer gets away with it.
Smiling wryly, Ashra wondered at the change. No one would have batted an eye at Raufasger killing without recourse, but that tolerance wasn’t extended to anyone else. In a way, that was encouraging. Indiscriminate murders were out. They had to find who did this. The fundamentals of this court were undermined if they could simply start murdering each other. It would make them no better than Raufasger.
“So sad,” a woman said amongst the group of people Ashra was finding herself with. “And the poor family. Such a shock.”
“And now without an heir. What is to become of the Fronsac lands?”
Ashra felt a bone-deep sigh. Did these people think of nothing but who would gain? A person had died, and all they were interested in was who would benefit from it.
“Obviously, Roenbaum needs to watch out,” Minet Corston said. “As he holds some of the Fronsac land, it could be that the new owner takes offense. If they are stronger then Roenbaum, they will want that land back. I would if I were in their shoes.”
Ashra excused herself from the group, feeling like she needed air. It was hard not to feel deflated. Nothing seemed to be going well, just at the moment. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t stop feeling like everything was sliding sideways. People seemed incapable of thinking about the greater good, even within this court, let alone for the broader community. Now this, murder to get what you want. Should they all simply go around killing each other?
Feeling despondent, she returned to her apartments, but had to admit there was a new wariness in her as she walked down the long, dark corridors back to her rooms. Perhaps she should have waited for Lorcan and walked with him. No, she refused to cower to fears. They weren’t all madmen, running around killing each other. It was time to pull themselves together. Let this be the catalyst. No one wanted a court like this.
*
Ashra had stood staring at the door to her balcony for a few moments. It still seemed surreal that Fronsac had been murdered just the previous day. It had been such a normal day. She had been cranky with lack of sleep and Wierstoke’s continual challenge to her ideas, but someone had crawled around the castle with awful intentions. Truly, she hoped Fronsac hadn’t suffered too much, worried she was being overly optimistic. Poor Fronsac. It all seemed so cruel.
Noises filtered up from below and she looked down. For a moment, she thought it was Lorcan’s carriage down there being prepared, but it wasn’t. It was some other carriage, one she didn’t recognize. Ladies in fine dresses were milling around, almost looking like flowers from Ashra’s high vantage point. Trunks were being heaved on a cart behind the carriage, multiple trunks as if someone was packing up everything they owned.
Someone was leaving, and by the looks from what they were taking with them, it was for some time. Could it be that they were fleeing the citadel, that they feared these new developments and decided it was best to make haste in realizing their absence? It could be seen that Fronsac’s death was the harbinger of disintegration. Was what they were seeing the courting coming undone at the seams?
Fronsac’s death was going to make everyone wary and mistrustful. They did, after all, have a murderer in their midst. Was some smiling face hiding horrid intentions and intents?
Increasingly, she was becoming aware in her heart that there was a thought she didn’t want to give voice to—the hope that Lorcan knew more about this than he was letting on. The worst was that he hadn’t looked surprised when the news had broken that Fronsac had died. Surely, he could have been aware. He did have spies everywhere, and yes, he was ruthless and even callous, but he wouldn’t stand by as someone was about to murder another for their own gain, could he?
Someone who had kindness in them, could not be so callous. Lorcan did have kindness and graciousness in him; she had to believe that. He was the father of her child.
The fact that she carried this doubt, however small it was, hurt her. Increasingly, she felt like she needed to know what was true in his head and in his heart. Their little games of seduction and one-upmanship were unimportant now. This was getting serious. They had to know if they could trust each other. It actually would crush her if it turned out that she had been wrong, that she couldn’t trust him. It was time to lay the cards on the table. She needed him to be truthful.
Chapter 30
It felt as though everything was slipping out of control. She’d held on so tight, but it just kept on slipping out of her hands. A person was dead and the court was in uproar. It was one of them, this time. Raufasger had been a shock, but for some reason, this felt closer to home. Perhaps because it wasn’t a ruler and a natural target, or some murderer with an age-old grudge. This was them infighting.
The situation had slipped to a new low. Intrigue and political maneuvering were part of the game, but someone had murdered. The game had become deadly. This overstepped the mark.
It had to be punished. They couldn’t get back on track unless they did. The murderer had to be found and dealt with.
A knock sounded at Ashra’s door and for the first time, she was fearful, but chided herself for it. It wasn’t some insane courtier with their raised knife standing on the other side, ready to stab her. Her fears were running away with her. That was the side effect of the recent developments. It was as if their footing had shifted and now no one knew where they were—staring at each other with suspicion.
Her worst fear would be that they couldn’t step back from this precipice, that they were now bound to take a step over into chaos.
Steadying her runaway fears, she walked to the door and opened it. Lorcan stood on the other side.
“Come in,” she said.
There was a pensiveness about him and she suddenly felt grateful it hadn’t been him who had suffered the brunt of someone’s enraged machinations. The blood was still fresh in her mind’s eye. Lorcan would be a natural target, but Fronsac had copped it. Poor Fronsac.
“Has there been any news?” Ashra asked.
“Captain Burgess is making inquiries.”
“I would have thought we were all under too close surveillance for the administration not to know who did it. Surely, they must know.”
“Perhaps the eyes and ears have been failing since Raufasger’s death.”
“There must be some way we can restore calm,” Ashra suggested. “We all need to take a step back and reassess what has just happened. None of us want to live like this. Rationality must be restored. If we are chaos, the whole realm will be chaos. No doubt news will have spread about this. We have no chance if we aren’t united.”
“We aren’t united.” He sat on the sofa, looking calm. How could he be so calm when they were coming apart at the seams?
Ashra walked over to the other sofa and sat down. “The campaigns between you and Wierstoke must stop. It is at the core of what is tearing this court apart.”
“This was perhaps inevitable.”
“I will speak to Wierstoke. He will see reason. He was never an unreasonable man.”
“He has power in his sights, and he is willing to do anything. Surely, you must have noticed the change in his dealings with you.”
“Are you saying he is responsible for Fronsac’s death? We can’t say that. There is no proof of anything of the sort. The only one with a grudge is Roenbaum. We must look there. He had an alibi, but that really doesn’t mean anything.”
“This isn’t about grudges anymore, Ashra,” he said. It was rare that he used her first name. It stopped her short. “This is about power. This does shift a stalemate, if nothing else.”
She rose, feeling like she couldn’t sit still anymore. “This quest for power is destroying everything. Why couldn’t we all have invested in making the council effective? It could work.”
“Power at any price,” he said.
Would they save themselves all this chaos if they just gave into him? Mollify to save themselves from his ruthless ambition. Ashra had to wonder if Wierstoke would be just as bad as Raufasger. He seemed willing to do just about anything to get what he wanted—unless Lorcan was lying. The sad truth was that she couldn’t trust him implicitly. He was just as ambitious. Perhaps he was telling her exactly what she wanted to hear, playing Wierstoke out to be the villain.
He looked so beautiful, so compelling, she wondered if she sometimes wished a purer heart inside him than there really was.
Tyranny had a tendency to win if they weren’t strong, or rational. “We have to be rational, to speak until everyone sees sense. There must be something we can do. The council is more important than ever. If we cannot sort ourselves out, we have no means of keeping control of the realm. Chaos will descend. We can still come back from this. These last few days have been a step in the wrong direction. We just have to pull ourselves back.”
“There is something I think you need to see,” he said.
Ashra’s eyes shot to him. No, not more bad news. She didn’t want more bad news, but his voice indicated that there was something material she didn’t know about. She closed her eyes and fought the hopelessness that threatened. “Where?”
“I will take you. My carriage is ready down in the courtyard.”
Whatever it was, it was away from the city. Something bad was going on outside, perhaps in Tondoke. “Please just tell me.”
“You have to see it,” he said and rose. “Grab a coat.”
He walked to the door and waited. As per normal, she found it hard to read his face. It had to be serious. He’d had a carriage prepared already, which meant he had come to her apartments for the purpose of showing this to her.
With mounting tension, she walked over to grab her coat and gloves. He came to help her get into it, his knuckles lightly grazing the skin of her neck as he did. Goosebumps rose along her skin at the touch. He still had the means of physically reducing her to aching need if she gave into it. Maybe it was time that she needed to be more aware of that, that she was so easily slipping into ease with him.
It could also be that they needed to join forces in order to fight the threat that Wierstoke was posing. It would mean accepting Lorcan’s ambition. That still prickled. No one should have the amount of power that Raufasger had insisted on. Sadly, they didn’t seem capable of coming together and curtailing it. As a group, they hadn’t managed to achieve anything substantial, had been too busy fighting each other. The disappointment of that fact bit hard.
Lorcan led her out, tucking her arm in his as they walked down the stairs. She could feel the warmth of his body through the material of his jacket. “Won’t you need a coat?”
“It’s already in the carriage.”
They walked down in silence. Ashra had to take care. Her ankles weren’t as strong as was normal—a weakness that came with pregnancy.
The wind was harsh when they reached the courtyard, and Lorcan’s sleek, black carriage stood waiting. There was no sight of the women that had been down here earlier, carrying much of their possessions with them. The springs gave as she stepped up into the enclosed cabin. Lorcan sat down opposite her and they quickly set off.
“How do you travel?” he asked and she knew he meant with her belly.
“Babies like movement,” she said and he looked curious. “It lulls them.”
“Can you feel it moving?”
“Yes.”
For a moment, he let his guard down and he frowned. It was still so hard to read him, to understand what went on in that head of his—the true him and not the face he showed the world, including her.
The road was empty. They passed a few carts here and there, but there seemed to be little other traffic. At one point, a contingent of guard passed them, riding at speed. Some troubles must have called f
or reinforcements. Ashra sighed at the thought.
“We are not going to Tondoke,” she said, noting as they passed by the road that led there.
“No.”
“Then, where are we going?”
“Lorcan Manor.”
Ashra’s gaze traveled from the landscape to him, a fission of discomfort traveling up her spine. “Why are we going to Lorcan Manor?”
“Because the citadel is no longer safe. This is just the beginning and you are no longer safe.”
“So you are taking me away under deception? It is not your place to make such decisions!” she said harshly. “I can’t believe you have done this.”
“It is my child you are carrying and you have a tendency to not see things for what they are. The citadel is no longer safe. You are a target. Do you really not think there is a threat upon your life?”
Ashra didn’t know what to say for a moment. “It is dangerous times for everyone. Running away is not the answer. Take me back.”
He crossed his arms to say he was refusing her edict. Ashra growled with anger. He had completely fooled her—she should have known he would do something like this. “This is not your place. You can’t make decisions for me.”
“Yet, I just did. If you won’t take steps to protect your safety, then you force me to.”
“Or you are simply getting me out of the way,” she said, glaring at him.
“You will be safe at Lorcan Manor,” he said, ignoring her accusation. “I’m sorry, Ashra, this has to be done. In your continued hope for our better natures, you put yourself at risk. You have seen Wierstoke’s change in attitude to you.”
Anger coursed through her body. How long exactly was he expecting to keep her prisoner? The sad truth was that there was no one to hold him to account. They were completely lawless, and there was nothing stopping him from doing exactly as he wanted. Except her. “I will not stand for this.”
“You are getting so large, you can barely move, and you will only get larger. What will you do if someone attacks you? The court is lawless. The courtiers are chucking each other off the balconies. There is nothing stopping anyone from doing what they want. There is nothing stopping Wierstoke, and he knows exactly whose baby is growing in your belly. He sees you as an impediment. Don’t you see that?”
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