Dark Court: Alchemy

by Camille Oster

  “It’s just been a difficult day,” she admitted.

  “There will be more to come. These things are always brutal by nature.”

  “I wonder sometimes, how bad things have to get before everyone will put their politics aside and simply try to solve the problem.”

  Lorcan was quiet for a moment. “Your idea of the council is admirable, but it’s become bogged with politics. Wierstoke will fight to the bitter end.”

  “And you won’t?”

  “It’s a question of what’s worth fighting for. None of this is pleasant, but there is also a pressing question of how much you can afford to lose. That, unfortunately, is the situation: success is the only way to defend yourself. Offense and defense becomes the same thing.”

  “You make it sound as if the only sane thing to do would be to go home and build an army to defend your patch.”

  “If things go badly, it might come to that. The answer is here, though; we just have to navigate it. Eventually, things will have to swing either toward Wierstoke or me. The collective will choose the next king. That thing of legitimacy is still there. This contest, as destructive as it is, is still necessary. If Raufasger hadn’t been so selfish, this could all have been avoided. If he’d planned his own succession, we wouldn’t be a mess now, but we are.”

  Ashra sighed and regrouped her despondent thoughts. “There is still a good chance that I will succeed, particularly as you two lock into stalemate. I will be here to present the only viable alternative. Slowly, I’ll win people over,” she warned.

  “Still planning your parliament, then?”

  “Yes, it just seemed a little harder today.”

  “This was never going to be easy for any of us, and you, particularly, need to take care of yourself.”

  “Careful, Lorcan, you almost sound caring.”

  “Is it working? I’ve been working on it.”

  Ashra smiled. “If it wasn’t for the fact that you are ruthlessly ambitious and just now confirmed that you are willing to fight to the death, at whatever cost to anyone else, to get what you want, yes, you almost sound sweet.”

  Lorcan shivered beside her. “Sweet, the death knell to a man’s sense of self.” He was jesting, but there also was a genuine concern for her well-being—if for the baby if nothing else. “But the council is a good idea. Anything we can do, in the meantime, to stop the country from falling apart, is a good thing. I know we disappoint you, but you need to keep going.”

  That was the biggest endorsement she had ever received from him about her plans. He still absolutely didn’t believe her dreams of a parliament that ran the country, but he backed her on doing what was necessary in the short term, and she appreciated it.

  Chapter 28

  Most of the soirees around the citadel were smaller in nature. Natural lines for social or ideological persuasions determined the groups that grew even tighter. Increasingly, the courtiers splintered into even smaller gradients, but not everyone was happy with this. For this reason, a salon had been started in the early evenings, where people could come and mingle.

  It hadn’t been anything specifically intended, but it grew and grew, welcoming anyone. For all the splintering, the courtiers still wanted to come together and observe each other.

  This had all given Ashra an idea, a way to get politics out of the council. She was going to propose blind ballots for voting on issues, which meant people didn’t have to be observed sticking with their factions and could focus entirely on the issue at hand. The idea was exciting and she couldn’t wait for the next council meeting. Things were going to change. They would become effective if she had to drag them kicking and screaming. Lorcan and Wierstoke were no longer going to take over the meetings with their bickering. It might prove hard to get them to shut up, but their glowering looks and insistence on loyalty would no long affect how people voted.

  This salon, however, also served as a good conduit for communications as the council tended to focus exclusively on the needs related to the administration of the realm. It didn’t provide a place for gathering that many obviously sought.

  Fronsac had stayed away for a while after his scuffle with Roenbaum, but Ashra saw him enter the salon, his mouth drawn and his head held high. The anger in him was still evident, and it wouldn’t surprise her if there was a second act to the proceedings. There appeared to be no means for which Fronsac received satisfaction from his aggrievance, and voicing them no longer upset the ruler.

  Ackerle passed by her with a nod and she smiled at him. Ackerle had always been one of the more reasonable courtiers.

  “I do so miss how it was,” a woman said, speaking to her companion as she passed. “Raufasger did know how to put on a party. He did understand the power of a spectacle. We don’t even get food now.”

  Gritting her teeth, Ashra stopped herself from rolling her eyes. How could they be nostalgic about Raufasger? Did they so easily forget his other side, the one where he murdered at will and made them watch? People could be so very blinded. But the luxuries and expenditure on them made up for the bad things, in some people’s eyes.

  No one was putting on spectacles or lavish meals now that the entertaining was done exclusively out of their private pockets. People felt worthy of it, but didn’t want to pay. And the absence of the luxuries was the primary concern for some. Ashra couldn’t respect the attitude. How stupid could you get?

  “I honestly can’t stand some of these people,” she said as Lorcan approached.

  He smiled. “It seems like with most others, your tolerance if growing shorter. Raufasger enforced tolerance on us. Civility was a survival mechanism.”

  “Are you saying I’m not civil?”

  “Perhaps you are civil beyond the capabilities of some of these silk-wrapped animals,” Lorcan said, looking around the room. “They cling to their fineries, lost without them.”

  The words were harsh and they sobered her. For a moment, things seemed more barbarous and arbitrary. Lorcan had a way of seeing the worst in people. And with the tribulations of the last few days, she had a hard time arguing. Especially with regards to these women who mourned the madness of Raufasger’s reign, because they had now lost some of their advantages, never seeing beyond their own boredom and amusement, and the treatment they felt they deserved. And men who were obsessed with their own grievances, willing to ignore the larger threat as long as their offense still existed. “We aren’t going to make it, are we?” she said, feeling a moment of despondency.

  “We have to,” Lorcan responded, and once again, he was the more upbeat out of the two of them. How was it that he was the one to rescue her hope? When had that happened? She refused to relent, to give up. She had to focus on getting this council working, forcing them to focus and deal with the problems and find some way of preserving the vital functions. Still, it was hard. There were moments when hope threatened to abandon her. “Raufasger left us with quite a mess to clean up, but he was never going to do anything else. He was like a hurricane, leaving utter destruction in his path.”

  “What if we don’t gain control? Or that we will ever achieve legitimacy? Who is to say that a new ruler would even work, even if we do survive the choosing of one? There has to be strength in the system. It is the only way we will survive. We should abandon the fight and build the systems. Please tell me you see that.”

  He smiled. “Despondence can’t keep you down for long, can it?”

  “Because we must act. Things are only going to get worse if we let things slip. We need to push for a parliament, something permanent. As you said with offense being defense, a parliament will achieve that. It would mean we can afford not to be on the side of the ruler.” For a moment, she felt that he was actually listening.

  Yelling broke out and Ashra groaned. For once, couldn’t they just act civilized? The longer this went on, the more of this kind of behavior they would have. A parliament could enforce decent behavior. Expulsion would force anyone to act with necessary civility.

>   “You’re a coward and a cheat,” someone accused.

  “Please, Lucas,” some woman pleaded. “Let’s not make a scene.”

  “You can’t stay with him. This is obscene. You are my wife.” Lord Bridgetonne’s distinct voice boomed across the room. All eyes were on the dramatics unfolding before them.

  “Lucas,” the woman said with a warning voice.

  “She’s chosen to come to me, Bridgetonne. Her time with you has proven less than… satisfactory. Hence, it has been more than easy for me to swoop in and simply claim her.”

  “Steal from me? I will destroy you. You’re nothing but a puffed up pompous ass.”

  “I’m not an object that belongs to you, Lucas,” the woman said, anger in her voice. “I have put up with your dribble long enough and it’s time to see the end of it. I have moved on and I suggest you do the same.”

  “We’re leaving,” Tellisford said, turning with his lover and assumedly new fiancé hanging off his arm. “You always were better than him. I don’t understand how your family could be so short-sighted as to align you with him. He really should take these things with more circumspection. How could he possibly be surprised?”

  The lovers quickly swept out of the room, Lord Bridgetonne ungraciously petulant, his harsh words echoing off the ceiling.

  “Who says we don’t get performances anymore?” Lorcan said tartly and Ashra gave him a chiding look. “Lord Bridgetonne has been at risk of losing his ambitious wife for some time.”

  The Hassop family determinedly seemed to be ignoring what had just happened as their daughter had just upgraded her position in a very public fashion. The public nature of it had to be intentional, either to embarrass Bridgetonne as much as possible, or simply to signify a new alliance. Lord Bridgetonne was not a good enemy to have, but Ashra suspected this was a precursor to a further move the Hassops expected to make—one that required Bridgetonne’s stocks to be somewhat diminished. Being publicly and brutally cut by one’s wife was an extremely effective way of achieving that. Although no one could accuse them of being diplomatic in their endeavors. It was a win all strategy.

  “Adoring wives, aren’t they sweet?” Lorcan said with a faux shocked expression. His eyes glittered as he turned to her. “Sooner or later you find a knife in your back.”

  “I would have thought the experience would have scared you away from the institution entirely.”

  “We are slaves to our own hearts, aren’t we?”

  Ashra chuckled. “I doubt there was a heart between the three of them.”

  “You are probably right there. Marsha Hassop’s interest has always been her family first. I suppose there is something commendable in that.”

  Fiedra appeared and their conversation stalled. “Such dramatics,” she said, fanning herself. “Tellisford has made his move. I wonder how he managed to secure Marsha. No doubt, cold hard gold was involved. It’s the only thing that would make Marsha Hassop hot and bothered. Bold move. Could backfire, but she is banking that it won’t. The sands are ever changing. Decade old alliances crumble in the span of fifteen minutes.”

  “Opportunities for some. If Fronsac was smart, now would be the time to act,” Lorcan said. “An alliance with Bridgetonne would change the landscape dramatically for his little feud with Roenbaum.”

  “Roenbaum looks furious,” Fiedra said, leisurely looking around. Ashra followed her gaze to where Fronsac was engaging with Bridgetonne, who looked too distracted to even listen. Still, the intention registered with Roenbaum. “Do you wonder if he would ever fall into your camp?” Fiedra’s question was directed to Lorcan.

  “He has been under Wierstoke’s thumb for a long time, taking orders and serving his master. It would be interesting to see if I can steal him away.”

  “I will bet you my purse you can.” Fiedra’s voice was light with amusement, biting her lip coyly, while Ashra felt uncomfortable with the idea of betting on the loyalty of people. “When it comes down to it, old alliances mean nothing compared to whom they think is going to win this race for the throne. No one wants to be on the losing side, do they? I mean, does anyone really trust Wierstoke? He’s shown he is willing to do whatever it takes for his own gain, and that includes stabbing his own people in the back if it serves his purposes.” Fiedra’s eyes traveled over Ashra as if specifically warning her.

  “He isn’t the only one,” Ashra said.

  “Still resistant to your charms, then?” Fiedra said to Lorcan with a giggle. Ashra felt like strangling her. This was all a game to Fiedra, ever-changing shifts of loyalties and allegiances. It was all about the game, even relationships—most of all marriages. “I see Lord Harl is leaving. Wierstoke met with him earlier today, a little birdy told me.”

  There wasn’t a look of surprise on Lorcan’s face, so Ashra suspected he already knew this. How many spies did he have in the castle now? Was he spying on her, too? Of course he was. For a moment, she wondered how much he actually trusted her. He’d said he wanted to marry her. Did he trust her to stand at his back without fearing a knife sinking into his flesh?

  The sweetness of their trip to Tondoke returned to her mind. He’d been caring and even honorable. That day, she had seen a different side to him, the side that represented a man she could respect—even love. They’d kissed and it had been sweet. A part of her knew it had been a bad idea, but she had wanted to thank him in that moment for being the kind of man she wanted to see him be.

  That attraction was still there, deeply rooted inside her and it had welled to the surface with that kiss. And then things had changed. Raufasger had died, and the world came crashing into the little, fragile bubble of understanding they had reached. It felt so far away now, because there was also this side to him, the one that would bet on being able to steal someone’s loyalty. Well, he hadn’t actually said. It was Fiedra who had said it, but he hadn’t opposed her.

  The question was: would she trust him at her back? Like Marsha Hassop, was he simply looking for his next step to increase his power and influence? A voice in her refused to believe it, wanted him to be the man in Tondoke, who would risk so much to do the right thing. She’d trusted him then, had been willing to place her own safety in his hands. Granted, it had been some way to go before she would trust her children to be in his power, but he had taken a step forward in proving himself.

  Was that entirely true, though? Hadn’t she trusted him because he had been incriminating himself just as much as she had. Had he simply shown he was willing to take a risk? But on what? There was still the chance that the risk had been simply to convince her. He would take risks to sway her to him. It could all be very planned and crafted.

  If only she could crack open his head and know the thoughts inside. Could she trust the sentiments out of his mouth, the expressions on his face? Did she even trust the lust? No, that had to be real. If not, she was being fooled by the consummate player.

  Chapter 29

  The next council meeting was a contentious one as Ashra had learned to expect. Differences in ideology were appearing with every subject they tackled. Wierstoke was increasingly difficult, having chosen the council as his platform for exercising his influence. He vehemently opposed her suggestion of a blind ballot, saying it was the dumbest idea she’d had so far, and his faction agreed. Increasingly he was opposing anything she said and it was becoming clear that they were no longer simply discussing the issues. The politics of succession refused to budge from the council.

  It was a difficult day for Ashra and she had to begin wondering if Wierstoke was starting a campaign to take over the council, at least shake her leadership loose. Sleep had been hard and her joints had ached during the night. Tiredness clung to her mind like a parasite, robbing her of any excitement about the important work of the council. It felt harder to muster up the concentration needed.

  They were talking about the ports and the tariffs being gathered but not forwarded to appropriate channels. There were people profiting off the misery being inf
licted on the nation. Surprisingly, this offended everyone on the council, that there were people profiting when they shouldn’t be, but they couldn’t agree on what needed to be done. Some favored fast and ubiquitous action that Raufasger seemed to prefer, where the innocents suffered by association—by association meaning anyone living nearby.

  One of the guard appeared and whispered animatedly in Captain Burgess’ ear. The man frowned and took a moment to absorb it before he gave orders. The guard retreated and Burgess approached Woord. Whatever the news was, it stopped him short and they conferred between themselves until Wierstoke forcefully cleared his throat.

  “It seems,” Woord started in a light tone, “that we have suffered a tragedy. Lord Delwart Fronsac has suffered a misadventure.”

  “What misadventure?”

  “He fell… from his balcony.”

  The room was silent for a moment.

  “Is he alright?” Ashra asked.

  “No, it was fatal,” Burgess said. “A fifty-foot fall at the very least.”

  “A tragedy,” Woord said. “I am sure we are all sorry to hear this news. Not as much as his family, of course. Have they been informed?”

  “Not yet,” Burgess replied.

  “We will, of course, call everyone together to grieve this misfortune.”

  “Hold on,” Lorcan said. “People don’t simply fall from their balconies.”

  “They do, actually. Maladies of the mind. It isn’t the first time it’s happened. It is very tragic. Let us deal with it. We have the processes in place for events such as this.”

  Ashra looked to Burgess to see what his expression said, but as typical, it was completely unreadable. For a moment, she wanted to believe it was an accident, but this wasn’t a place for accidents. Nothing happened around here without furthering someone’s agenda, and there was no doubt that this death furthered Roenbaum’s position, and who knew who else.