“Well put,” Alamar said. “And the second?”
“The second consideration is a long term one. Alegria fears the control the church will hold over her daughters in the future, and how that will impact on Valdes. What we should all remember is that Valdes is part of Delaluz. We all are. The easy path is to sit back and let Abbot Guillermo have absolute power over Valdes. It is, after all, just one duchy. But if we let that happen, then we’re as good as saying these council meetings are pointless. We might as well return to our feudal past, where duchy battled duchy over the smallest of slights.” He raised an eyebrow at Alamar and Galo, then continued. “We of the Second Estate have been given a chance to set a precedent. I have no desire to question the church but Caritina and Sarabia are right. We need to show the First Estate they aren’t absolute. That there are checks and balances in every level of our society. This decision we make today is how we do that.”
Isabel shook her head. “Alamar said it perfectly. The birth of a mutiny, or revolution if you will, can be as small as asking a simple question. Setting a precedent in this case might feel right at this moment, but what about ten years into the future? How do we know how this decision we make today might be twisted? You say you don’t want to question the church, but you are doubting their authority.”
“Every decision we make can be turned against us in one way or another,” Bolivar snarled at Isabel. “Sol’s right. If we don’t have the strength to make a decision and stand by it, then we might as well go home and forget about this council and do nothing.”
“What you are forgetting, cousin,” Isabel murmured, “is that sometimes, we all make the wrong decisions. Are you willing to stand by all of your wrong decisions?”
Bolivar swallowed hard and took several deep breaths, but it didn’t help. “Bitch,” he ground out between clenched teeth.
“No!” Alamar slammed his chair back, standing. He pointed at Bolivar. “I won’t have my hall turned into some backstreet brawl. This is not a place for personal arguments.”
Galo laughed, dry and sarcastic, silencing himself when Alamar turned a dark eye on him.
“Perhaps,” Sol said, “it’s time for a recess. I think we all need to step back and calm down.”
“My brother-by-marriage is correct,” Alamar said, instantly calm. “We shall retire to our quarters and consider Princess Alegria’s petition. We will reconvene in a half hour to cast our votes.”
The room broke up quickly. Sol lingered, helping Eloisa gather her papers, watching the dynamics of his fellows. Bolivar, red faced, stalked from the hall, his Knight and page hurrying to keep up. Caritina left at a slower pace, though the stiffness of her back spoke more of repressed anger than stately calm. Isabel waved her attendants back and met with Alamar, neither of them showing a trace of the high tension still gripping the room. They spoke quietly for a moment, then left side by side, aids and pages keeping a respectful distance. Galo remained in his seat, motioning for his attendants to leave him alone. Usually unflappable, Galo had shown more passion in this one discussion than Sol had ever witnessed. It worried him.
“Galo.” Sol moved to his side. “Are you all right?”
Galo, eyes closed, snorted. “Clearly I am not.”
“Is there anything I could help you with?”
The Duke of Giron opened his eyes and smiled, a sarcastic upturn of the corners of his mouth that reflected a glint of self-mocking in his eyes. “If there were, perhaps everything would work out for the best.” He stood and straightened his cuffs. “As it is, Deleon, I’ll take this chance to apologise now. You spoke well, but still, I’m sorry.”
“What does that mean?” Sol asked as Galo walked away.
“It means, dear fellow, that we must all pay for our truths.” The door closed behind Galo with a final seeming thud.
“What the damn was that all about?” Sergio asked.
“I’m not sure but I think Alamar and Galo are in disagreement over something.”
“Them and everyone else in the bloody hall,” Sergio muttered as they left the room, heading for Roque’s private rooms. “I thought Bolivar and Isabel were going to draw weapons.”
“Something that was bound to happen eventually.” Though Sol didn’t think the exchange today had much to do with the old rivalry between the cousins.
Eloisa, playing her part as page, moved ahead of them to open the door to the Roque rooms. She let them in, then closed and locked the door. Setting her book and satchel down on a small table, the Earth Mage went through the rooms, opening windows and plumping cushions, though Sol knew she was checking the security. Sergio, whose task it was to ensure Sol’s safety, followed her around, making the obvious gestures, oblivious to the mage’s intentions.
“Eloisa,” Sol said when she’d returned and given him a faint nod of confirmation, “could you prepare some food?”
“Of course, your grace.” She left the sitting room as Sergio came back in.
“All clear,” Sergio announced. “Wouldn’t have put it past Ibarra to secrete an Air Mage or two in here to listen in on us.”
“He’s not that devious.” Though Sol had just sent his disguised Earth Mage off for some privacy so she could search with her magic as well as her eyes.
“Isn’t he?” Sergio paced the room, stretching his legs and arms. “He managed to keep the news about Gabe a secret for long enough.” There was accusation in the words, but nothing more than Sol deserved. Gabe was Sergio’s friend as well.
“I was going to tell you. I just wanted to digest it myself first.”
“Does it involve Galo? Is that how he knew about it?”
“I don’t know how Galo knows. He’s not involved. At least, not that I’m aware. I only know what Alamar told me yesterday.”
“So tell me now. You may as well.”
Sol went to the mantel and poured them generous measures of brandy. After a couple of fortifying sips, he told Sergio about the servidor Evellia and the murder of her brother. Without a conscious decision, he found himself omitting the means by which Gabe revived his lover. It was too incredible, too confusing for him to contemplate sharing just yet. It left a small gap in the story, which Sergio questioned.
“She was dead yet he brought her back to life. How?”
Sol shrugged. “I’m thinking perhaps she wasn’t dead, just close to it. Her injuries may have been exaggerated in the retelling, twisted by Alamar’s anger.”
Sergio punched the back of a lushly upholstered chair. “Gabe should never have come here. We should have stopped him, Sol.”
Sol could only nod in powerless agreement, thankful Sergio didn’t blame him solely for letting Gabe leave Roque in a fit of anger and stubbornness.
“All right,” his cousin said, channelling his emotions into something useful. “We’ll need to talk to this girl, what was her name?”
“Evellia.”
“We need to find out exactly what happened in the stables, and that means talking to Princess Beila as well. Can you sort that out?”
“Sergio, as much as I want to get Gabe out of the Valley, it’s not the most important thing we have to deal with at the moment. Alegria’s petition and how the Council votes is.”
“What’s to worry about? You’ll vote for her, so will Sarabia and I’m pretty certain Bolivar and Caritina will as well. That’s four winning votes right there.”
Sol kept his mouth shut on the doubts clambering in his mind. The litigious atmosphere of the council chamber had destroyed his confidence. He felt Caritina would vote for Alegria and he wanted to believe Bolivar would, but the emotional display from his cousin made him questionable. Galo held his cards close to his chest, bluffing with a careless air. Alamar’s comments might have sounded as if he was against the petition, but he liked to play the opponent to encourage debate. How he would actually vote was a complete mystery. It was no stretch to assume Isabel would follow Alamar’s lead.
No, the only votes he could count on were his and Sarab
ia’s.
Eloisa returned carrying a tray of soft cheeses, sliced fruit and thin slices of almond bread. Sergio muttered over the selection, asking if there wasn’t anything more meaty on offer. Stomach clenched with doubt and confusion, Sol didn’t feel like eating but knew he should. The afternoon promised to be long and heated, he would need nourishment to survive.
Someone knocked at the door. Eloisa answered it.
“Duke Bolivar de Leon,” she announced and Sol nodded for her to let him enter.
Bolivar looked haggard. He staggered to a chair and fell into it, frowning as if he couldn’t remember why he was there.
“Sergio,” Sol murmured, “perhaps you and Eloisa should go find something more substantial to eat.”
Sergio grimaced at the dismissal but he and the Earth Mage left the sitting room.
Sol sat beside his cousin, leaning forward, elbows on knees. “What’s Isabel done now?”
Bolivar’s lips twisted into a silent snarl. “Nothing new. She’s the same stone-hearted bitch with a frozen cunt she’s always been. She deserves Ibarra. He can stick her with his solid gold prick and make spiritless demon-babies Morales can slake her blood lust on.”
“That’s...” Sol was lost for words. He’d never heard Bolivar so angry before.
“It’s the truth and it’s about time someone fucking said it.” His fingers dug into the velvet armrests as if they were Isabel’s breasts and he was searching for her tiny, shrivelled heart. “I can’t believe Morales wanted to take your Bone Mage for her inquisition. What’s that all about, Sol?”
“That’s not important now. Bolivar, what’s Isabel done to you?”
Bolivar shook his head, mouth pressed closed as if to keep in another outpouring of vitriol. After a long moment of resistance, he finally spat out, “It’s not what she’s done to me. It’s...” Bolivar’s voice cracked. “Sol, I can’t—”
Someone knocked at the door.
Bolivar jumped to his feet. He pushed shaking hands through his hair, searching the room for an escape. Another knock came, followed by a voice.
“Sol? Are you in there?”
“Ibarra,” Bolivar hissed. “Don’t let him in.”
Sol stood, grabbed Bolivar’s arm and halted his nervous pacing. “I can’t not let him in. He knows I’m here.” He raised his voice. “A moment, Alamar. Let me tidy myself.”
Bolivar broke out of his grip, glaring at Sol as if he’d just confessed to bedding Karyme behind Bolivar’s back.
“I wanted to trust you, Sol. I thought after what Galo said about your mage you would definitely support me against them.”
“Bol, what are you talking about? You can trust me.”
“No,” Bolivar snapped. “You wouldn’t understand anyway. Not with your perfect little family and your beautiful life in Roque, far away from the stinking shit of the real Delaluz. You know, all those generations ago, I wish it had been my side of the family that left Leon and went to Roque. Maybe our positions would be swapped now. Maybe you’d be the one forced into deals against your will and I’d be the one in bed with Ibarra. And I’m not just talking about Alamar’s sister.”
Bolivar gave Sol a shove and stalked to the door, opening it with a savage jerk. Hand raised to knock again, Alamar stood in the corridor. Faced with a seething Bolivar, he stepped to the side and let the furious man leave.
“I’m sorry,” Alamar said when Bolivar was gone. “I didn’t realise I was interrupting something.”
Shocked by his cousin’s accusations, Sol mutely waved Alamar in.
“I only came by to apologise for Rendon,” his brother-by-marriage said, closing the door gently. “I don’t know how he found out about Castillo and the servidor. If I had known I would have asked him to keep it quiet.”
Sol swallowed his confusion. “Thank you. I plan to investigate that. However Galo found out might give us some idea of what really happened in the stables.”
“Good point. Though I would suggest you concentrate on the matter at hand today. I must confess, I never thought Alegria’s petition would cause such a ruckus.” He flashed a tight grin. “Interesting times.”
“Very.”
A chime rang through the room, echoing in the corridor outside.
“Ah, time to reconvene.” Alamar grinned. “Very interesting times indeed.”
Chapter 13
Sol settled into his chair in the council hall, no wiser about his own feelings, let alone about how the vote might go. Once everyone had resumed their positions, Alamar called order.
“I hope your recess was well spent, my friends,” he said.
Bolivar refused to look at Sol, keeping his gaze resolutely on the table between them. Everyone else seemed to have returned in a calmer state. Caritina had found her poise and Galo lounged in his chair, habitual smirk back in place.
“We have heard Princess Alegria de Ramon y Sarabia’s petition and have discussed it. Now, we must vote.”
“I call for a blind ballot,” Bolivar said.
“Refused,” Alamar returned without pause. “This petition is not a highly sensitive matter. It will be an open ballot.”
“I think we proved this a very sensitive matter earlier,” Caritina interjected.
“Oh, saints damn it,” Galo said. “Let’s just vote and be done with it. Against.”
“For!” Caritina announced, almost drowning out Galo.
“For.” Sarabia sagged back in his chair, as if the strength that had kept him going this long was at an end.
“Against,” Isabel said as all the pages hurried to record the votes.
“Evenly split,” Alamar said. “Interesting. Against.”
Sol’s heart clenched.
Bolivar was pale, his blunt face unreadable. He stared at Isabel, then, reluctantly met Sol’s gaze. “Against.”
And so it was decided. Alegria’s children were lost to her and Valdes, one day, would belong entirely to the Church of Damacia.
Sol couldn’t believe it. He had hoped Bolivar’s rant in his rooms would mean he would vote against Isabel and Alamar.
“Deleon?” Alamar called him out of his confusion. “How does Roque vote?”
“Not that it matters,” Galo said dryly.
“It matters,” Caritina responded coolly. “His vote must be recorded.”
“Roque,” Sol drew the name out, thrashing through his jumbled thoughts, searching for something that made sense.
A faint ripple under his feet almost made him jump out of his chair, but he covered with a hacking cough.
Sergio stood, reaching across the table for a pitcher of water. Eloisa patted Sol on the back and moved close. Her hand nudged a piece of paper under his arm and he glanced at it, reading a single word.
“Here.” Sergio pressed a mug of water into Sol’s hand. “Drink.”
Sol accepted it and sipped while Eloisa removed the paper and reorganised herself.
“Are you all right?” Alamar asked when Sol had quietened.
“I’m fine now,” Sol said. “Thank you.”
“And your vote?”
“Undecided.”
The silence was deadly. With a single word, he’d stalled a final declaration on Alegria’s petition. It didn’t matter that the result was already set. Once recorded, a vote couldn’t be changed, but by the same token, until seven votes were recorded, a petition had to remain open. Sol didn’t exactly know what he would accomplish with this. All he did was drag out Alegria’s waiting and perhaps give her false hope. He didn’t know why he’d taken Eloisa’s suggestion, only that right then, he couldn’t understand why Galo and Bolivar had voted against.
It was Galo who broke the silence. He laughed, a genuine bark of delight that made most of those in the room glare at him. Galo ignored them, raising his wineglass in a silent toast to Sol. Sol looked at him expressionlessly. Galo knew he was a big part of the problem but his smug smile seemed to claim Sol’s impotent victory as his own.
“Undecided?”
Isabel asked. “Why? The vote has already been decided. Just say for or against and we’ll close the petition.”
“How can I say for or against when I don’t know how I feel about it?”
“How you feel is irrelevant. Just as your vote is.”
“No,” Alamar said softly. “Isabel, don’t be absurd. Of course Sol’s vote is important and we must have his honest opinion on record. Sol, how long do you think you might require to come to a conclusion?”
Sol took a deep breath. “I’m not sure.”
Alamar eyed him shrewdly, then nodded. “I suggest we conclude for today. Clearly Sol needs more time to consider the petition.”
Pages and aides began gathering their papers. Sol remained seated, wondering why Alamar was being so gracious, wondering what he was going to do. Across from him, Bolivar stared fixedly at his hands clenched together on the polished tabletop. When they were the last two still sitting, Bolivar finally looked up. Guilt and confusion swam in his eyes.
Sol opened his mouth to speak, but Bolivar shook his head. He shoved his chair back and stood, rushing from the council hall.
Everyone dispersed quickly, leaving in their de Ibarra land-yachts. Eventually, there was only Sol and his people left with Alamar.
“Do you know what you’re going to do with the time you wrangled out of me?” he asked Sol as a final land-yacht rumbled up to the base of the stairs.
“Not yet,” Sol admitted, realising the yacht wasn’t the one he’d arrived in. This one was sleeker and smaller. “What’s this?”
Alamar grinned. “The yacht I wanted to give you. It’s one of the fastest my mages and Engineers have ever crafted. I have one much like it. You promised me you would take it out for a drive this afternoon. Perhaps it will help clear your thoughts.”
Sergio was already running covetous hands along its streamlined body. Eloisa stood back, a small, disapproving frown pinching her brows.
“I don’t know, Alamar. I’m not really in the mood.” Though Sol could imagine what it might be like to sit in the yacht, the brutal strength of high-speed wind pushing at him, the landscape flashing by in an impossible blur. It would be like lying low over the neck of his horse, letting the beast have its head, freedom surging in every step and lunge.
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