Odd, why did the mental picture of a shallow grave dug in the dead of night spring to mind? “You really do no’ like this man.”
“Not like? That has to be the worst understatement I’ve heard all year.” Ashlynn grabbed a roll and slice of ham before stalking for the door. She munched on both and explained in between bites, “Gwydion Argent is a minor baron in Iysh, not landed, although the way that family carries themselves so pompously around would make you think they’re kissing cousins to Zelman himself. His grandfather was a knight that did some noble deed and was given a title because of it. They’re quite proud of it. It’s a pity that his descendants don’t have the sense to come in out of the rain.”
The more she said, the less sense it all made. “Why would a man like him be in Estole?”
“That is a very good question,” she admitted darkly before tearing savagely into her roll. “I don’t have an answer. Their very existence hangs on their connection with the royal family. I don’t think they’d survive without that support. So why endanger that by coming here?”
“A spy, perhaps?” It was the only explanation that Broden could think of.
“He’d be the worst spy in history to send here. Edvard hates him. He won’t get any information by coming, not more than your average spy can glean just by walking through our streets.” She shook her head, mind turning over the problem at different angles. “No, this makes less and less sense.”
They arrived at Edvard’s study. As the door was wide open, Ashlynn simply stepped through and called out a greeting, “Edvard. Drop everything. You won’t believe who’s here.”
Edvard apparently was also having a late lunch as he had a plate off to one side of his desk, a roll in his mouth, a report in his free hand. At her entrance, he pulled the roll back out and asked, “Who?”
“Gwydion Argent.”
The response was instantaneous. “Who?!” Edvard repeated incredulously, face wrinkling up with distaste.
“Gwydion Argent,” Ashlynn repeated forthrightly although she had a sour pucker to her mouth.
“Here. In my castle.”
“Front parlor, to be exact,” Broden supplied. This reaction on the siblings’ part was interesting. They really did not like this man.
“Take him back out and shoot him,” Edvard requested. He did not sound like he was jesting.
“Oh, may I?” Ashlynn drawled, bouncing on her toes like a giddy girl. “Please? You won’t have to get me anything for All-Winter.”
“Be serious, the two of ye,” Broden commanded, for once feeling his true age. Normally he felt like an older brother because the two were so level-headed, but today he really did feel like their father. “At least hear the man out. I want to hear why he be here.”
“I’m rather curious on that point as well,” Ashlynn admitted. “But if he’s too annoying, can we still shoot him?”
“Nothing prevents us from doing that,” Edvard promised her. He actually sounded eager, as if it was a foregone conclusion that this man would be annoying and they would get the perfect excuse to shoot him anyway. Stealing one more bite from his plate, he led them out of the study, a skip in his stride.
Edvard did not even try to hide his evil glee as he stepped into the front parlor. “Argent.”
A man with lank dark hair turned around, facing them. He was not homely or handsome but somewhere in between, as if he could be charming if not for the pompous tilt of his chin and the puffed out chest. He was in assumedly the latest fashion, somewhat the worse for traveling dust clinging to him, and looked as if he would like nothing more than a lie-down. Still, he greeted them with a courteous bow.
“Knolton. Fallbright. And I do not believe I have the pleasure of becoming acquainted with this gentleman.”
“Broden Ravenscroft, my partner,” Ashlynn supplied. “Argent. Why are you here?”
“It is an…indelicate situation I find myself in. After much consideration, I deemed that you were the only person who could offer me aid.”
Broden recognized the look on Edvard’s face. He was about to cut the man off in mid-stride. To prevent that, he hastily said, “Sit, man. Tell us yer tale.”
Argent considered him from head to toe in a lengthy study. “I beg your pardon, but from where do you hail?”
“Cloud’s Rest.”
“Cloud’s Rest. Oh my.” Argent gave a delicate shudder even as he took a seat.
Broden frowned. He was beginning to understand why they disliked this man so intensely. Ashlynn had not liked his response at all and looked ready to start digging that shallow grave right then and there. Broden pulled her into the seat next to his before she could go looking for a shovel.
Edvard plopped into a chair facing Argent like a child that was told by his parents to sit still and be quiet. “Cut to the chase, Argent.”
“I have come to the decision that you should lead a complete rebellion against Iysh.” Argent fluffed out the lace on his cuffs, focusing there instead of meeting anyone’s eyes. “I wish for you to become the new king of Iysh.”
If someone had dropped a pin on a cushion, it would have been heard, the silence was that intense and absolute. Broden’s eyebrows climbed into his hairline. The siblings nearly fell out of their chairs and speech seemed to be beyond them.
A wry, humorless smile flitted over Argent’s face. “It’s quite the thing for me to say that, isn’t it?”
Edvard’s childish behavior fell away and he fell into his natural state, that of a man that could calculate and weigh and think ten years ahead. He steepled his hands in front of his nose, hiding most of his face, eyes an unreadable mask. “Yes. It is quite the thing. You jeopardize your whole life by me taking power. What’s in it for you?”
“My whole life.” Argent aged ten years in that moment and looked much wiser than the dandy he was dressed as. “Perhaps I should go back to the beginning and explain what has brought me to this point?”
“Please,” Ashlynn choked out.
“Very well,” he acquiesced. Taking a breath, he formed his words before speaking. “As you are both aware, my position at court is one based upon my grandfather’s deeds in his youth and the recognition he gained from it. We have always done our best to live up to the standards at court and to not serve as an embarrassment to anyone. We’ve made good political marriages, founded connections, and overall done well enough for ourselves. Or so I thought until two months ago. It was at that time that Zelman instituted a new law into the Bindings.”
All three of them sat up. This was something they hadn’t heard about from their spies yet, and it was a rare event indeed to happen. The last time the Bindings had been changed was well over two decades ago.
“The law states, and I paraphrase this, that the children of a second or third marriage will be recognized as legitimate offspring of a family but are not allowed to inherit. They are to be treated as one would a branch family or a cousin and cannot receive anything of title or property from their parents unless there are no other surviving siblings.”
That seemed a very, very strange thing for Zelman to insert into the Bindings. Why would he limit family inheritance that way?
“Prince Hendrix,” Edvard breathed in realization. “He’s deliberately doing this to make sure that Prince Hendrix cannot inherit the throne. He’s taking him out of the running entirely.”
Ashlynn swore aloud. “That’s it. That must be it. Why else would he do this?”
“That was the conclusion that the court reached as well,” Argent concurred. “We’ve always known that there was no love lost between the king and his youngest child. Prince Hendrix has been more or less banished from court for the past several years, sent off on one task or another, never to be seen for more than a month at a time. But this…we never anticipated the king would do this. We aren’t even sure why he bothered to maneuver things in this way as there’s very little support for Prince Hendrix in the court. It is Prince Maddox that everyone expects to win.”
That was who everyone in Estole figured would win as well. Broden felt it, in this moment, that what Zelman had done was a game changer. How, he wasn’t quite sure, but this new law of the Bindings might very well be the foothold that Edvard was waiting for.
Edvard leaned forward, eyes intense. “Argent. Correct me if I’m wrong but I seem to recall that you are the child of a second marriage.”
Broden hissed in a breath.
“You have a good memory,” Argent praised with a bitter smile. “Indeed I am. My father has a daughter from his first marriage but we are many years apart and I cannot say that we are close. She has no concern for me or the state that this new law has put me in. The way that Zelman changed the Bindings means that even though she is a daughter she has more of a right of inheritance than I do. I can carry the name of Argent with me but nothing else.”
Which was what drove the man all the way here, into the enemy camp. Broden felt the missing pieces click together and huffed out a breath of amazement.
“Edvard, I implore you, make use of Zelman’s miscalculation.” Argent looked desperate, as well he should. “It’s not just me that has been landed in this intolerable situation. He’s alienated many other young lords and ladies that are now without a viable future. You are from a very old house, a well-respected one, and if you reached out a hand to them now you would undoubtedly gain much in the way of support. The way that you overturned the Bindings entirely was a revelation to us. We now see exactly why you would do so. Please, use this chance. I offer you my services, of course.”
Broden sank back against the chair, rubbing at his chin and studying Argent. If this was a trap, it was baited with magnificent honey. On the other hand, would they ever have this kind of opportunity handed to them again? It would be risky in the extreme and yet Broden was highly inclined to take the chance anyway.
Edvard was still doing his impersonation of a statue and not giving away his own thoughts or feelings on the matter. At least not yet. “Argent, you gave me vital information that I did not know about. For that you have my thanks. May I ask why this isn’t public knowledge?”
“I don’t think it really affects anyone outside of the court. At least, not much. It’s the higher nobility that has so many regulations and laws regarding inheritance after all.”
Broden thought it would still have some effect but it could be that the majority of Iysh could not understand the legal language enough to realize what the new law meant.
Edvard dipped his head in acknowledgement but not necessarily agreement. “I see. You have given me much to think about. I wish to confer with my council before deciding what to do. Until then, you are welcome to remain as my guest until I can give you an answer.”
There were unshed tears in Argent’s eyes. “I find more kindness presented to me among my enemies than among my friends. My thanks, King of Estole. I will accept your invitation.”
“Excellent. Remain here for a moment more. I’ll have refreshments sent to you while a room is prepared.” Edvard stood and the room stood with him. “You are naturally invited to dinner. I will see you there.”
Words seemed to be lost to Argent and he gave a bow but said nothing else.
They left the room and closed the door behind them before Ashlynn let out a taut breath. “Wow. I did not see that coming.”
“Nor did I,” Edvard admitted, “although we should have expected that Zelman would do something to prevent Hendrix from becoming king. Even if it is a remote possibility he would do everything in his power to stop it.”
“This is too extreme, though,” Ashlynn objected. “He’s alienated a good portion of his court doing this.”
“Yes,” Edvard agreed, briskly rubbing his hands together. “Yes, he did. Let’s take advantage and strike while the iron is hot. Ashlynn, run down Miss Haley for me and ask her to take care of Argent. Call for Ash, Riana, and Gerrard too. I’ll call for an emergency meeting from the council.”
“I will,” she promised. Spinning on a heel, she went toward the back of the castle, where Miss Haley was undoubtedly in the kitchen and overseeing the preparations of dinner.
Broden could still feel the remnants of shock reverberating in Ashlynn’s skull. He felt them himself. This was an insane move on Zelman’s part. How much did he detest his youngest son to do something this stupid? “Still of the mind to shoot the man, lass?”
“I think Zelman did it for me. He’s a much more humble man now than before. Being disinherited in one stroke like that has been good for him.” She stopped at the corner and said to him softly, “Broden. I have this feeling that what Zelman did is going to give us exactly the advantage we need.”
“Aye, lass,” he agreed with a feral smile. “I have the same feeling.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Edvard’s invitations to the two priests were enough to convince them, and Troi sent word late in the evening that they had arrived and were shown directly to the temple. It was too late for any social call so they all waited until the next morning before going out to meet their newest members of Estole.
Riana and Ash had to row over from the settlement but they timed it well and everyone met up at the doors.
During the course of his duties, Broden had passed by the temple more times than he could count. The building was made of light grey granite, soaring up four stories, each level slightly smaller than the one below it, to where it almost formed a spire at the top. The doors were a light oak, thrown open now in spite of the cold, with burning braziers on either side that promised warmth. As they walked inside, Broden noticed there were new mats on the floors, arrayed in a half-circle around each deity’s statue. All of the statues shone with a recent polish and had candles burning on either side of them, illuminating them fully. Dead ahead was the altar, barring entry to the back of the temple, where the consecration and ordinance rooms were.
In front of the altar stood Graff, who was bestowing a blessing on a sickly and fussing child. The mother looked beside herself but thankful. With the blessing bestowed, the mother gave Graff a heartfelt thanks and turned. She spied the group waiting nearby, specifically Ashlynn, and made a beeline for her. “Sheriff.”
“Mistress Kate,” Ashlynn greeted back although her eyes were fixated on the child straddling his mother’s hip. “What’s wrong with young Parker, here?”
“It’s those refuse heaps near our bakery, that’s what’s wrong,” Kate responded, mouth in a flat line. “The stench can fell a man, it’s so horrid, and it’s hard on his lungs. He keeps getting one infection after another. I can’t keep him well.”
Ashlynn’s eyes fell closed in a fatalistic manner. “Again? They’re full again?”
“Oh, over the brim and out into the street, as usual. Sheriff, please, do something,” the mother pleaded. “It’s not just Parker it’s affecting, but our business as well. The smell of bread baking is half of what sells our wares.”
The smell of garbage would completely deter customers as well. Broden did see her point.
“I’ll handle it immediately after I’m done here,” Ashlynn promised. “And Broden will gladly shoot the next person we catch improperly dumping their garbage.”
Broden grinned at Kate. “I would at that. Lass, if ye do me the favor of taking names? Surely ye see who be doing this.”
“We all know the offenders,” Kate assured him darkly. “If I give you a list, can you do something?”
“We can,” Ashlynn assured her. “In fact, we’d be glad to. I’ve given people enough warnings and I’ve been far too patient about this. We’ll do something to punish them starting today.”
Satisfied, Kate bobbed them both a curtsey. “Then I’ll have that list ready for you by the time you get to our bakery. Thank you.”
“See to your son first,” Ashlynn encouraged her. “This might take a little while.”
“Thank you,” Kate repeated with a smile, then hitched her son up on her hip a little more and headed for the door.
Ed
vard held out a hand. “Priest Graff. How are you?”
“Very glad reinforcements have arrived,” Graff responded with a tired grin. “There are some very interesting problems in this country.”
The group gave a heartfelt groan.
“But then, you know that already,” Graff continued, chuckling, “as I’m speaking to the problem solvers. May I help you with something?”
“We actually came to meet the new priests,” Edvard responded, looking about. There were a few people around but no one else in the robes of a priest. “I don’t see them?”
“No, they’re not here,” Graff confirmed. “I’m afraid they hit the ground running. We’ve had some problems this morning and they’re already out in the city helping the people.”
“Ahh.” Edvard looked only slightly disappointed by this. “Well, I am sorry I missed them, but I’m glad they’re so dedicated that they’re already helping my people. Tell them that if possible, they can come and have dinner at the castle. All of you should come, I should say.”
Graff gave a nod of consent. “We will be pleased to. If we can find a free evening, that is; it’s been a challenge just to find time to eat these days.”
Broden grimaced. That was the truth.
“One thing, sire.” Graff openly hesitated before asking, “I now have enough manpower to do a coronation ceremony, if you’d like?”
Coronation ceremony? Broden blinked. True, Edvard had not had a proper one, he had just declared himself king and had been done with it. But doing a proper one would strengthen his stance in the eyes of the other countries. Not Iysh, certainly, but it might help with everyone else.
Edvard looked wistful. “That would be nice.”
Ashlynn raised a finger. “I believe that three deities at least have to be represented in order to do a ceremony for a government official. That’s the same for kings? I see. So our new priests are of different sects. Which ones?”
“Lugh and Macha,” Graff supplied.
Lugh, the god of light and death and Macha, the god of battle and sovereignty. Actually, if Broden had to pick just two sects to be represented in Estole, those were the two that he would favor. Right now, it was the blessings of those two gods that they needed the most.
Arrows of Promise (Kingmakers Book 2) Page 27