Silence descended once more. Gib rested his forehead on his knees and closed his eyes. Worry still churned his stomach, making dozing impossible, but when Kezra sat beside him and drew his attention, Gib had no idea how much time had passed. Had he been sitting there a bell toll or whole marks?
Kezra sighed, her breath a wisp of air in the stagnant hall. “You’re to be a witness too, then?”
Gib’s eyebrows knitted. He still had no inkling what everyone was speaking about or why they were all gathered in the corridor. “Witness?”
Kezra gave a stiff nod and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Yes, for the Queen Mother’s—”
The deafening bang of the council room doors flying open made both Gib and Kezra jump. They scrambled to their feet an instant later when councilors began to pour out of the chamber.
“What’s happened?” Hasain asked, his voice a high, panicked squeal. “What’s going on?”
No one stopped to speak to him or even acknowledge his presence. Gib craned his neck, trying to see inside the dim room. Blood rushed through his ears, and he could feel the tight pounding of his heart within his chest. Had they come to a decision? Was Arden’s fate decided?
General Morathi’s voice carried over the crowd. “Congratulations are in order, High Councilor.”
The bottom of Gib’s stomach dropped. Morathi was shaking hands with Anders Malin-Rai.
“High Councilor?” Kezra gasped.
Gib cringed and turned in time to see her back away, emerald eyes wide and lips trembling.
“How?” She shook her head in disbelief.
Gib didn’t know what to say. If Anders had been promoted to High Councilor, then where was Neetra?
Morathi made his exit, and Anders turned cold, dark eyes on the lot of them still standing in the corridor. His frown flipped into a cruel, wicked smile when he noticed his daughter among those gathered.
“Daughter, have you come to congratulate me as well?”
His voice slithered through Gib’s ears, making him shudder. Anders advanced, and Kezra backed away until she met the wall and had no room left. Still feral and afraid, she reminded Gib of a caged animal.
“How?” Kezra continued to shake her head. “How did you become High Councilor?”
Anders smiled. “Good old-fashioned work ethic, my gem.” The sugar-sweet lilt in his voice was darkly reminiscent of Zandi’s, and it made Gib want to vomit. “If you had any idea how to be a real woman, you’d understand work ethic and the rewards it grants.”
Kezra pulled her mouth into a wild snarl. “What gives you the authority to judge how a woman should behave?”
Anders’ smile slipped away as he strode closer, trapping Kezra against the wall. Gib thought to call for help, but everyone else was so absorbed in watching the council room doors they didn’t even seem to notice what was happening right in front of them. Anders extended one hand, touching her neck. He spoke to his daughter in a low, husky tone. “With the new authority granted me, I could surely show you how to be a proper woman.”
Gib felt his stomach clench, fighting to retch. Was this how Kezra’s father had always treated her? No one should ever have to tolerate this—
A shriek erupted from Kezra’s mouth as she slapped Anders’ hand away. Everyone remaining in the hall stopped and turned to stare. The spell was broken. They were visible again.
“You don’t get to touch me!” Kezra’s wail pierced the frozen air. With teeth bared and fire in her eyes, she reached out and shoved Anders, sending him lurching back. “Never again!”
The silence was suffocating. No matter how hard Gib sucked air into his lungs, he couldn’t catch his breath. The commotion had drawn the attention of Nawaz and Roland. Both men were on their way, crossing the room in long strides, their sights set on the new High Councilor.
Anders seemed to sense his time was up. Straightening his robes, he coolly addressed his daughter. “You’ll learn your place one day. If I have to beat it into you myself, you’ll learn.” He turned and fled with a clenched jaw and nose high in the air.
Kezra’s hands balled into fists. “I’ll be your undoing, Anders Malin-Rai. You can count on it!” Her words chased after him, but in the chaos, it was anyone’s guess as to whether he heard.
Nawaz reached out a tentative hand as he came within arm’s length. “Are you all right?”
Kezra slapped the hand away and turned her back on him. With a red face, Nawaz tromped over to stand beside Joel on the opposing wall. Gib wrung his own hands together, wanting to offer words of solace but not daring to speak.
Harsh words shot through the open door, and Gib turned away from Kezra in time to see Koal and Marc bustle out from the depths of the council room. Koal’s head was twisted around as he argued with someone still too far inside the chamber for Gib to see.
“Is this your final word on it then? You’ve both signed the scroll. If you wish to contest the decisions, now is the time.” A cold chill settled in Gib’s heart. He knew that voice. He’d recognize Liro Adelwijn’s airy hiss anywhere.
Koal rounded on his son as if meaning to strike him, but Liro didn’t so much as flinch. “You have my signature and Arden has my loyalty. You and that bastard have my answer!”
Liro’s eyes were fierce and glad. “Be careful, Seneschal. You claim loyalty to Arden yet insult her new steward. I’m sure you’re aware such a thing is viewed as treason.”
Koal clenched his hands into fists. “Neetra may be steward, but my devotion is to Arden alone. I support her king.”
“Arden has no king.”
No one in the hall moved. No one even dared breathe. The silence was tangible, encompassing, and terrible.
Koal took a single step forward, looking down on his elder son with cold, unfeeling eyes. “For now. And I promise you, Liro Adelwijn, should I ever find out who is responsible for that, I’ll deliver swift justice myself. No one, for any reason, shall be spared my wrath on that day.”
Liro’s smug demeanor faltered. For just a moment, Gib could see rage, perhaps even terror, flash behind the young lord’s cold eyes. Liro had himself under absolute control an instant later, leaving Gib to doubt whether he’d actually witnessed the display of emotion at all.
“Why was he allowed in there?” Hasain asked as he pushed his way to the front of the crowd. “Understudies weren’t granted entrance today!”
Liro cocked his head to the side and turned an arrogant smile onto Hasain. “Oh, haven’t you heard? I’m not an understudy, bastard. I’ve been elected onto the High Council.”
Hasain stumbled back a step, his face white as a sheet. “H–how?”
“It would seem the tables have turned, Radek.” Liro’s savage voice lashed Hasain. “Does it infuriate you to know I’ve claimed my rightful place while you still try to ignore yours? Does the knowledge that you never were my equal make you feel slighted in some way?”
Koal lurched forward, and Gib was certain that if Roland and Marc hadn’t immediately stepped in to catch the seneschal’s arms, he would have struck Liro this time.
Hasain didn’t even seem to notice. Shaking his head, he turned a stunned, blank expression onto the newly elected councilor. “Your promotion doesn’t infuriate me. It terrifies me. Arden will falter and fail in treacherous hands such as yours.”
Liro’s cold mask cracked yet again. “How dare you—”
Neetra’s shrill call from within the council chamber drew Liro’s attention, and he pursed his lips, momentarily caught between venting his wrath and following the commands of the apparent steward.
“That’s right, Liro,” Marc taunted with dead eyes. “Run. Your master beckons.”
With a final growl, Liro turned on his heel and slunk away.
Gib watched the lord’s back as he disappeared into the gloom of the council chamber. What would happen now? Was Neetra really in control of the country? Had Liro truly been voted onto the High Council?
Koal’s hard stare fell across the hall. “Follow
me, all of you. There’s no time to explain.”
No one said a word as they followed behind the seneschal. Gib wanted to question someone—anyone—but his jumbled mind couldn’t think of anything to say, so he lowered his head and ran to keep up with the group.
“Koal, what happened in there?” Nawaz’s voice rose above their thundering footsteps.
Koal didn’t pause or stop. “Neetra is steward. Anders is High Councilor. They tried to have me removed as seneschal, but they failed by one vote.”
“How did Liro get voted on?” Hasain’s hands trembled as he walked just ahead of Gib. “Weren’t there objections?”
“Oh, there were objections,” Marc replied. “But not enough. This whole thing was planned. There’s no way in hell it wasn’t.”
Diddy’s words tumbled from his mouth as if he couldn’t catch his breath. “There must be something we can do! This is treason!”
“No proof.” Koal didn’t even glance back as they ascended to the second floor, and Gib realized where they were heading. The hall of royal portraits loomed before them. “And at this point,” the seneschal continued in a terse voice, “I don’t even know who to appeal to. The numbers are quickly shifting from our favor.”
“What about the Radek line?” Hasain asked. “And the rest of us? What about our family?”
They lurched to such a sudden stop that Gib collided into Nawaz’s back, grazing the wooden crossbow slung over his shoulder. In lighter times, it would have been comical, but now it barely warranted more than a shared glance between them.
Koal put his hands on either of Hasain’s shoulders and looked him squarely in the eye. “You know I served your father and his reign. I will sooner die than allow your family—any of them—to be hurt or tossed aside. That’s why we have to hurry now.” Koal’s eyes skimmed the group, lingering on Kezra. “Are we sure everyone here is an ally?”
Gib took Kezra’s rigid hand on reflex. “Anders Malin-Rai’s children are their own. Kezra is our friend.”
Koal must have been satisfied with the answer given. He nodded and swept off, leaving them all running to catch up. They were nearly to the royal suite before Gib realized he was still grasping Kezra’s hand. She stared at the floor with a dark face, but her firm grip led him to believe his presence wasn’t unwanted.
Blessed Mage Natori lingered beneath the tall doorframe of the royal suite and quickly ushered the entire group inside. Battle-ready with sword drawn and a strange, blue mage orb hovering above, she looked fierce and formidable.
Natori waved each of them through the threshold, but Gib hesitated for just a moment. Our boots. We’re supposed to remove our boots. No one did, and in the next instant, he was being pushed along and had no choice but to move forward.
Inside the suite, the other Blessed Mage, NezReth, stood beside Bailey. The servant leaned over a candlelit table, never glancing up as his quill scratched maddeningly at an open sheet of parchment.
NezReth’s uncanny violet eyes didn’t blink even once as he observed the group. “Our worst case scenario has been realized then?”
Koal shook his head. “Not quite. I’ve retained my position as seneschal, but the rest is a wash. We need to do this now.”
Gib fumbled as Roland grabbed hold of his arm. “Someone get Gib a sword!”
What is going on? Gib’s head swam as the Weapons Master drew his own weapon and pointed for Gib and Kezra to join him beside Natori at the front door. Koal vanished deeper into the suite before returning with a heavy broadsword. The seneschal thrust the weapon at Gib, and he grimaced, feeling the tension in his shoulders. The blade was too long for him. Typical.
“It’ll have to do,” Koal said, giving Gib a thump on the arm before spinning around. “Joel, Nawaz, to the balcony window. Hasain, you too, just in case.”
Gib watched in bewilderment as Nawaz nocked a bolt into his bow, and blue fire burst to life in the palms of Hasain’s and Joel’s hands as they pooled their mage energy.
Gib couldn’t take it anymore. “What are we doing, exactly?”
“Saving someone from being exiled,” Hasain replied without even sparing Gib a glance.
It was all too much. An excess of questions tumbled around Gib’s mind as he tried to make sense of it all. Exiled? Who? Why does everyone have a weapon? Are we expecting an attack? Fed up, Gib groaned and raised his question once more. “I know I’m not supposed to ask, but will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?”
“A wedding, Master Nemesio,” replied a gentle voice.
Queen Mother Dahlia stepped into the room without any of her usual grace or charm, her beautiful face drawn into a mockery of itself and large, brown eyes heavy with exhaustion. Little Princess Gudrin clung to one of her arms while Crowned Prince Deegan trailed just behind her.
“I’m not much fit to be a bride today,” Dahlia continued in a pained tone. “But I doubt my brother will allow me to wait.”
“You know this will be one of Neetra’s first orders,” Koal said, his own voice labored by regret. “It has to be done now.”
Bailey’s quill scribbled furiously. “He has to be knighted first. He can’t marry the Queen Mother unless he’s of noble descent. Hurry.”
A commotion arose from the other room as Marc and Diddy scrambled out with Aodan in tow. The bodyguard reminded Gib of a wild-man, with disheveled red hair and single eye wide with unease. Marc and Diddy all but shoved Aodan into position between Dahlia and Koal.
“Knight him, Koal.” NezReth’s breathy words were barely louder than a whisper. “And then move aside so I can marry them. Time is likely running short.”
Koal drew his sword in one swift motion and turned to face Aodan. “Kneel.”
Aodan did as he was told, visibly shaking. Gudrin left her mother’s side to set one, small hand on the bodyguard’s back. Deegan did the same, offering silent support.
Placing the tip of his blade first on Aodan’s left shoulder and then the right, Koal proceeded with the ceremony. “For the protection of Arden and her people, by the power vested in me, Lord Seneschal Koal Adelwijn, I proclaim you Master Aodan Galloway, knight of Arden. Arise.”
Dahlia and Aodan were as grave as they’d been the day before at the King’s funeral when NezReth stepped in front of them with an open text resting in the palms of his hands. No professions of love were declared while the Blessed Mage read the wedding rites aloud. Bride and groom stood stone-faced, staring at NezReth with vacant eyes. When asked if they agreed to be wed, each responded with a simple yes and aye, respectively. No rings were given nor were pleasantries exchanged. Gloom filled every corner of the room. Gib could almost taste it on the air.
NezReth closed the ancient text so sharply a cloud of dust spewed forth from within the yellowed pages. “By the power vested in me, I declare you husband and wife.”
It was over. The Queen Mother and her bodyguard were married.
Bailey wasted no time. He cleared his throat, motioning down at the drying parchment papers. “You’re all to be witnesses. You’ll have to sign both documents.”
Gib hadn’t even processed everything that had just happened when Roland jerked his head around and issued a cautionary grunt. “There’s noise in the hall! We’re about to have guests!”
Bailey made an undignified noise as he called for the witnesses to come forward. “Don’t knock over the inkwell. Bride and groom, sign your names! Aodan, sign this one as well—Koal, you too, but not the marriage license. Family cannot bear witness. All right, everyone gather around. Step forward and sign both documents now. Hurry!”
In a rush of bodies, they all clambered over to the table. Gib fumbled as he picked up the quill and etched his name onto both sheets of parchment. He handed the writing utensil to Hasain next and scrambled aside, watching as everyone else took their turn.
Just as Bailey had finished scratching his own name in place, Natori hissed a warning from the doorway. “Now! They’re here!”
Gripping the ove
rsized sword, Gib staggered his stance, body tense and mind sharp, ready to fight if need be. The sound of clanking armor and marching boots filled his ears. He held his breath, waiting.
Half a dozen soldiers rounded the corner, clad in head-to-toe armor and swords swaying on their hips. Liro led the procession, his long strides haughty and confident. A single mage orb floated above his right shoulder, the hazy blue light illuminating the corridor and reflecting off the newly elected councilor’s gleaming eyes.
“Lower your weapons!” Liro demanded as he came to a stop in front of the royal suite. The sentinels waited behind him with hands resting on hilts. “By order of the Steward of Arden, I command you to do as I say!”
Natori sneered, but she and Roland exchanged a heavy look before lowering their blades. Gib and Kezra did the same, following the example given them.
Liro’s smile was arrogant. “Good. Now part and let us through. I have orders to collect one Aodan Galloway.”
Gudrin and Deegan both wailed from behind Dahlia, and on reflex, Diddy and Tular stepped up to flank Aodan. The bodyguard fell back a pace and watched, poised as if to flee, as Liro slithered through the crowded room. The newest member of the High Council held a scroll in hand. He waved it as shrewd eyes locked onto his target. “Ah, there you are, Derr. I have been sent to see you home. It would seem you’ve finally managed to outstay your welcome.”
Aodan shook his head but words failed him. When Liro came even closer, the bodyguard cast a wild glance toward the balcony. Gib held his breath. Don’t jump. Don’t do it. You’ll break your neck.
Venom dripped from Liro’s fangs like a viper. “Is the caged bird contemplating escape?”
“What the hell is the meaning of this?” Koal demanded. The seneschal’s unwavering presence brought sanity back to the situation. “Why are you here?”
Liro held the scroll out, waving it beneath his father’s nose. “To deport the foreigner, of course. Perhaps you’d like to read the decree yourself?”
“No!” Gudrin let out a yelp and tore away from the Queen Mother. The little girl launched herself into Aodan’s arms, clinging to him for dear life.
Nightfall: Book Two of the Chronicles of Arden Page 45