“I’m sure everything will be lovely,” she commented, secretly relieved that they had such a jovial courtier looking after them. More often than not, the position of courtier was filled by someone who thought rather highly of himself.
As if reading her thoughts, Jaquobie cleared his throat. “I do hope our delegation will have individual rooms whilst we are here.”
Roust nodded adamantly, a bead of sweat forming between his amber eyes. “Of course, sir. Duchess Jacqueline and her guests will be in the west wing tower of the palace.” Turning back to Jax, he smiled under his bushy mustache. “Just wait until you see the sunset behind the mountains, Your Grace. The hills sing.”
Her eyes lit up. “That sounds like an absolute treat. I look forward to the storm dispersing so that I may see it.”
By now, they had arrived at a large set of double doors, in front of which two uniformed guards in Lysandeir colors stood at attention. “Now, I know we have your betrothed Lord Pettraud with you, Your Grace, but is there anyone besides High Courtier Jaquobie that we need to formally announce?”
Jax turned to look at Uma and Hendrie, her mouth set in a thin line. Normally, a valet and lady’s maid were not introduced in such a setting, even if they were their charge’s most trusted companion. The thought flashed through her mind that if Uma was her lady-in-waiting, she would be announced. “That will be all, Roust.” She risked a look back to see if there was hurt in either of her friends’ eyes, but each wore a formal mask.
“Duchess, if I may, I will take a few men up to the west wing to inspect your chambers before your arrival,” Captain Solomon said as he gently touched her arm. Leaning in close to her ear, he whispered, “In this den of vipers, I don’t want to take any chances.”
Looking at the innocence written all over Roust’s face, Jax had a hard time picturing that this man could be masking something sinister, but she nodded and let her captain ease into the shadows of the stairwell.
“Once the Duchess is announced, she will retire to her rooms until the welcome feast,” Jaquobie instructed Roust, who nodded vigorously, as if his well-being depended on agreeing with the advisor.
“But of course, sir. I will make sure to inform Duke Mensina that his request to meet with the Duchess will need to happen at a later time.”
Jax’s ears perked at the mention of her grandfather. “Duke Mensina requested a meeting with me?”
“Yes, Your Grace. He asked to see you in private after you’d arrived and were settled in,” Roust reported.
“Tell him he may visit my apartment at his earliest convenience,” Jax said, purposely avoiding Jaquobie’s glare. He knew nothing about her grandfather’s plans to seat Annette as Cetachi’s ruler, and for now she wanted to keep it that way.
Roust bowed his head once again. “Now, pardon me as I announce your group, Your Grace.” With that, the man ducked out through an unobtrusive side door that would likely bring him to a steward’s post in the entrance hall.
“Presenting,” his voice boomed moments later, reaching them even through the heavy door, “the Illustrious Duchess Jacqueline Arienta Xavier of Saphire.”
Jax and Perry shared a comical glance with one another. Each time she heard her name pronounced with such flourish, she couldn’t stop the tingles it sent shooting down her spine.
Before her delegation, the large double doors parted, bright sunlight spilling into the royal chamber. Jax blinked a few times to gain her bearings, not appreciating the ambush of light in her face as she walked into the grand hall. As her eyes adjusted, she surveyed with a mask of feigned boredom the room encompassing her. Much like the stables, the stone walls and high ceilings arched overhead, the gray rock looking cold and uninviting, even in the daylight. She imagined this room would look downright spooky in the evening, bathed in torchlight. There were few furnishings within the cavernous space, and even fewer pieces of art. The only piece that stood out to her was a large tapestry draped from a ceiling beam, depicting snowcapped mountains. She recognized it from her texts at the Academy. It was meant to be a replica of a map drawn by the first northern explorers who discovered Mount Croie and its surrounding hills and was one of Lysandeir’s most prized possessions regarding its heritage.
She now allowed her amethyst eyes to focus on the figures standing at attention in the room. She recognized the familiar faces of her grandfather and Duke Pettraud, whose resemblance to Perry was striking. Duke Crepsta’s stooped frame stood near them as well. Each Duke was clad in his nation’s colors, cloaks of fur falling off their shoulders, keeping them warm against the chill in the room. While she did not smile at the three men, she tipped her head in recognition before swiveling her gaze to the remaining figures she was not as familiar with.
Duchess Tandora, a striking, formidable woman, stood proudly, although her wrinkled hand clutched a golden cane. Her silver hair was twisted and pinned up, showcasing the waterfall of turquoise and citrine jewels cascading from her slender neck. Jax had seen the Duchess briefly at the Feast of Champions over a year ago, and in the past year the woman had aged with grace. Beside her stood a middle-aged matron with amber eyes, likely the Duchess’s lady-in-waiting. Jax did not know her name, for she had not seen her at the Duchess’s side before.
Jax reluctantly met the gaze of Duke Lysandeir, his fiery red hair making it impossible for him not to stick out in the grim-faced crowd. He stood at the top of the staircase that led back into the sprawling throne room of the fortress, elevating him amongst his peers. Jax resisted a frown at the petty power move, giving the Duke a tight smile instead. “Duke Lysandeir, thank you for welcoming me into your home.” She glided up the steps until she stood level with the burly man, his sneer shrinking as she took her place next to him. “I look forward to these peace talks and the prosperity they will bring the realm.”
Duke Lysandeir shifted on his feet, straightening out the fox fur wrapped around his broad shoulders. “Duchess Jacqueline, it is an honor to host such historic talks.” His tenor voice was firm and strong, but the look of daggers in his eyes told her he did not appreciate how closely she stood to him.
Jax turned and waited for Perry and Jaquobie to make their entrances. She caught sight of Duke Pettraud as his eyes focused on his son for the first time since Perry’s dispatch to Saphire. She knew father and son had a strained relationship, a chasm that only widened after the death of Perry’s mother, but she was troubled by the lack of warmth in Pettraud’s eyes as he studied his youngest son. She caught a quick glimpse of her grandfather, the imposing Duke Mensina, who, of all things, winked at her. If she and her grandfather could mend their once-strained relationship, perhaps the same could happen for Perry and his father.
“Duchess Jacqueline, I believe you know all the leaders here with us for the summit. Might I introduce you to our friends from Cetachi?” Duke Lysandeir held a swooping arm out to the stone floor below.
Jax’s stomach seized with sudden anxiety, realizing George was nowhere to be seen, nor were any of her other guards. What was to stop this gang of wild men from launching an assault on the Realm of Virtues right here and now? Harnessing her worries, her eyes trailed to the shadow of one of the round pillars, from which a figure emerged into the light.
The man at the bottom of the stairs bowed, his sandy auburn hair sweeping forward to obscure his muddy brown eyes. “Greetings, Your Grace. I am Darian Fangard of Cetachi. It is an honor to be in your esteemed presence.”
As Jax appraised the man before her, the confidence and refinement he exuded surprised her. He wore all black, save the gold threaded accents etched along the seams of his tunic. His pale complexion suggested he rarely saw the sun, but his skin had an ethereal glow about it, and his eyes shone with promise. He didn’t look the part of a shrewd and manipulative politician, but more like a philanthropic humanitarian. “Sir Fangard, I am pleased to put a face to the name,” Jax said. “We have heard much about you in Saphire.” Her lips twitched with veiled sarcasm.
Fan
gard’s polite response reflected no protest, but he managed to mock her just the same. “Please, Your Grace, call me Darian. I am but the son of a baker. The only title I hope to be known by is ‘Governor’.”
Jax bristled at the sparring words, but did not take the bait. She was not ready to discuss the future of Cetachi just yet.
Darian seemed to sense her hesitance, for he motioned his hand out to another shadow sulking behind him. “Let me introduce my friend, Maegus Welles. Should our peace talks be a success, he will serve as Warden of Cetachi’s capital city.”
Maegus proved to be a face that Jax expected to see from Cetachi. He had a long mane of wiry brown hair, his dark whiskers framing a snide smirk. He posed a looming figure behind Darian, burly arms folded under his earthy green tunic. Where Darian had a refined and polished appearance, Maegus was brooding and wild. The blazing intensity of his gaze alarmed Jax, as much as she hated to admit it.
“And what role does the title ‘Warden’ play in your vision for Cetachi, Darian?” She heard herself asking the question before she realized what she was saying. Jaquobie shot her an incredulous look. She wasn’t supposed to be even entertaining thoughts about Darian’s proposal for Cetachi.
The as-yet unappointed governor gave Jax a calculated stare. It wasn’t one of malice, but one of curiosity that she’d bothered to ask him about his plans for his nation. “Well, right now, Maegus assists with the day-to-day tasks of making sure people within the borders of his tribe are protected and cared for. My vision is that each region of Cetachi would be overseen by a Warden, elected by the people living in those tribes. The Wardens would form a council, voicing the concerns of people across the land.”
Jax studied the earnest look on the man’s face. “And where does that leave its governor?”
Darian continued, his cheeks flushing with enthusiasm for his ideas. “Well, the council would report to me, so that I could ensure fairness across the regions and make sure any orders are executed properly.”
“It seems like a waste of time and resources, having a council do the work of one person,” Duchess Tandora declared from her post, tapping her cane on the floor for emphasis. “I decide what is best for my duchy, and no one else.”
Darian stepped forward, but was careful not to ascend the staircase out of reverence. “Duchess Tandora, do you not employ advisors to help you determine what is best? My vision simply calls for those types of positions to be elected by the people.”
“Because commoners are so smart and know what’s best for them, do they?” Duchess Tandora snapped back, not giving Darian the respect he’d shown her.
Her reaction intrigued Jax, for she was under the impression that Tandora supported the Cetachi Accord. Yet, it didn’t appear that its Duchess believed in the democratic ideals Darian held in such high esteem.
Duke Lysandeir jumped into the conversation. “Now, now, let us save this talk for tomorrow. I’m sure you all would like to rest before the welcome feast tonight.” His silencing look at Darian put an immediate stop to the escalating argument.
Jax couldn’t help but feel for the poor, idealistic governor who withered under Duchess Tandora’s stare. “An excellent suggestion, Duke. Until then, I bid you all good afternoon,” she announced to the room before retreating off to the side where Roust waited for her, along with the rest of her companions.
“Your apartments are this way, Your Grace,” he said as he led her down the long hall with Perry, Uma, and Hendrie following in her wake. Jaquobie had disappeared from her side without her noticing. She wondered where he’d gone off to.
Roust led the way through the maze of passages and staircases with ease. “Your guardsmen took the liberty of delivering your trunks already.”
“Brilliant,” Jax said, longing to throw off her traveling clothes and immerse herself in a warm bath. Although, knowing her grandfather wanted an audience with her, she doubted she’d have long to linger in the soothing waters.
The sheer size of the Croivast fortress was proven by how long it took them to make their way to the west wing tower. Jax realized she hadn’t paid close enough attention to Roust’s skillful navigation, and she wondered if this was a trick imposed upon by their host to make them feel uneasy roaming the halls.
“I realize the palace must seem like a labyrinth to you now, Duchess, so I will come to gather you all before dinner and escort you to the dining hall,” Roust said with a charming tip of an imaginary hat as they all arrived at two large blackwood doors. He pushed the brass handle, throwing the doors open to reveal a stunning interior.
Jax had visited many fine suites throughout her travels across the realm, and those of Lysandeir proved to be no exception. While it was minimalistic in decor, the impressive stone fireplace pulled everyone’s focus to the enticing flames taking up nearly half of a wall. They entered a sitting room, adorned with a plush sofa and collection of armchairs, with doors leading into what Jax assumed to be a bedroom and bathing room.
“Lady Uma’s room is just through this door here,” Roust said, pointing over to an archway in the corner, “and Lord Pettraud’s suite is down the hall. His valet will be in the room adjoining his, and your guardsmen will be in the remaining quarters on this floor,” he further explained, although Jaquobie was not there to witness that Lysandeir had indeed complied with their requests for individual accommodations. “Shall I send for Duke Mensina?”
Pausing only a moment, Jax decided it would be better to speak with her grandfather now so she could spend the remainder of the afternoon resting after her journey. “Yes, please, Roust. That would be wonderful.”
He nodded in affirmation. “The Duke is staying in the eastern wing of the palace, so I imagine you will have a few moments to catch your breath before he arrives.” With that, the little man disappeared.
Perry let out a low whistle as he settled into one of the chairs by the fire. “That was an interesting reception if I’ve ever witnessed one.”
“It certainly was. I must say, Darian Fangard was nothing like I expected him to be.” Jax sat down across from Perry, rejoicing in the warmth of the fire as she shed her cloak.
“Dare I say there’s a hint of admiration in your voice?” Perry teased, although his searching eyes watched for her true reaction.
Jax furrowed her brow. “I’ll admit, I was impressed by his thoughtfulness. He obviously cares deeply about his cause. But his idealism is childish. A council where the officials are elected? Why, it’s a breeding ground for corruption,” she said with a sharpness that made Perry’s body visibly twitch.
“But then the people would be free to overthrow that corruption and create a new council,” Hendrie said, stepping forward from Uma’s side.
Jax turned to face him, disliking his tone of voice. “Then the Cetachi people are forever left with a government continually cycling out its players, never getting any real work done. Or worse, perhaps these elected officials pass laws and ordinances that protect their station and their corruption only grows from there.”
Hendrie opened his mouth to protest, but Jax held up a hand. “Please, enough. I know that you and Perry do not see eye to eye with me. Forgive me for saying this, but I am the one who leads a successful duchy, whereas you two do not. You have no idea the amount of work I put in to eradicate corruption across my lands. I simply do not trust Darian’s method to work for Cetachi in the long term, and that is Saphire’s official stance.” Jax hated silencing her friends, but they were in someone else’s home, where eyes and ears would be reporting their every move. She could not have whispers floating around that might hurt her plans.
Despite her forceful warning, Hendrie made moves to open his mouth and protest, but Perry cut him off. “Understood, Duchess. You are right. Neither Hendrie nor I know the stressors you deal with to keep Saphire safe and secure. I think we’ll depart for our rooms while you speak with your grandfather.”
She knew Perry hadn’t meant to make her feel bad, but she saw a sting of anger
lingering in Hendrie’s brown eyes as he followed his charge out of the room. “Oh Virtues. Maybe I should have come to this thing alone.” Jax sighed, resting her face in her hands.
Uma’s hand gently touched her hunched shoulder. “They might not agree with you, Jax, but neither would they want you to bear this burden by yourself.”
Jax looked up at her friend’s innocent face. “Do you understand my point of view, Uma? The way Hendrie looked at me…I feel like some deranged dictator.”
Uma bit her lip. “I do understand that you want what’s best for the people. But I also think this Darian character wants what’s best for his people, too. It’s a difficult situation to reconcile, with both parties believing themselves to be in the right.”
Jax raised an eyebrow. “I see Darian’s charms enchanted you, as well. Do not breathe a word of this to the others, Uma, but I think the man has potential in the political arena. Despite being the son of a baker, he certainly knows how to command a room.” She looked thoughtfully at the roaring fire. “I look forward to getting to know him better as these talks continue. There’s something very intriguing about him.” Jax leaned back into the chair, closing her eyes as she replayed the encounter over and over in her mind.
She could hear Uma moving around the apartment, unpacking and hanging Jax’s gowns so as not to wrinkle them. She relished the moments of peace before they were interrupted by a knock on the door.
Uma rushed to the small entryway, momentarily disappearing from Jax’s sight. When she returned, her face had developed a nervous tic. “Your grandfather has arrived, Duchess.”
Jax stood up, smoothing her skirts. And so it begins, she thought.
Chapter Seven
“Jacqueline, my dear, I almost giggled with delight when you went toe-to-toe with ol’ Lucien on the stairs.” Duke Mensina chuckled as he enveloped his granddaughter in a bear hug, referring to Duke Lysandeir by his given name. “I thought Delphinia’s eyes were going to pop out of those wrinkly sockets.”
A Summit in Shadow Page 6