that we will be considering his offer with all due gravity. But one thing I cannot and will not do—I will never agree to anything that will interrupt Elspeth’s training. That, above all other considerations, must be continued! Lady forbid it, but should I die, we cannot risk the throne of Valdemar in the keeping of an untrained Monarch! Therefore I will do no more than indicate to Alessandar that his suit is welcome— and inform him in no uncertain terms that serious negotiations cannot begin until the Heir has passed her internship.”
“Majesty!” Gartheser jumped to his feet as several more Councillors started speaking at once; one or two growing angry. Talia stood then, and rapped the table, and the babble ceased. The argumentive ones stared at her as though they had forgotten her presence.
“My lords, my ladies—forgive me, but any arguments you may have are moot. My vote goes with the Queen’s decision. I have so advised her.”
It was fairly evident from their dumbfounded expressions that they had forgotten that Talia now carried voting rights. If the situation had not been so serious, Talia would have derived a great deal of amusement from some of the dumbfounded expressions—Orthallen’s in particular.
“If that is the advice of the Queen’s Own, then my vote must follow,” Kyril said quickly, although Talia could almost hear him wondering if she really knew what she was doing.
“And mine,” Elcarth seconded, looking and sounding much more confident of Talia’s judgment than Kyril.
There was silence then, a silence so deep one could almost hear the dust motes that danced in the light from the clerestory windows falling to the floor.
“It seems,” said Lord Gartheser, the apparent leader of those dissenting, “that we are outvoted.”
Faint grumbling followed his words.
At the farthest end of the table, a white-haired lord rose; the faint grumbling ceased. This gentleman was the one Talia had been watching so closely, and the only one who had not spoken. Orthallen; Lord of Wyvern’s Reach, and Kris’ uncle. He was the most senior Councillor, for he had served Selenay’s father. He had served Selenay as well, throughout her entire reign. Selenay often called him “Lord Uncle,” and he had been something of a father-figure to Elspeth. He was highly regarded and respected.
But Talia had never been able to warm to him. Part of the reason was because of what he had attempted to do to Skif. While he did not have the authority to remove any Chosen from the Collegium, he had tried to have the boy sent away for two years’ punishment duty with the Army. His ostensible reason was the number of infractions of the Collegium rules Skif had managed to acquire, culminating with catching him red-handed in the office of the Provost-Marshal late one night. Orthallen had claimed Skif was there to alter the Misdemeanor Book. Talia, who had asked him to go there, was the only one who knew he had broken into the office to investigate Hulda’s records. He was going to try to see who, exactly, had sponsored her into the Kingdom, in an attempt to ferret out the identity of her co-conspirator.
Talia had saved her friend at the cost of a lie, saying that she had asked him to find out whether her Holderkin relatives were claiming the Privilege Tax allowed those who had produced a child Chosen,
Since that time she had been subtly, but constantly, at loggerheads with Orthallen; when she first began sitting on the Council it seemed as if he had constantly moved to negate what little authority she had. He had openly belittled so many of her observations (on the grounds of her youth and inexperience) that she had very seldom spoken up when he was present. He always seemed to her to be just a little too careful and controlled. When he smiled, when he frowned, the expression never seemed to go any deeper than the skin.
At first she had chided herself for her negative reaction to him, putting it down to her
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