hard to comprehend that Kyrin and Damwin could continue so stubborn. Please God Helfred would bring them to a sense of their futility before their defiance led to bloodshed.
But I doubt it.
He'd left the chamber's door open. Through it he heard a sound in the antechamber, the whispered creaking of a hinge, the turning of a handle. Heard Ven'Cedwin get to his feet.
“Your Majesty.”
“Ven'Cedwin?” Rhian sounded distracted, and surprised. “I didn't think you were sent for yet. I'm not ready for the writing of the dukes' letters.”
Alasdair moved from the curtained window to the doorway and looked into the antechamber. “Since this is a matter of urgency, Rhian, I thought it best he be waiting close by. Especially since you are so busy, with other weighty matters on your mind…”
He saw in her face that she realised what he meant. Her eyes, which could burn so warm, lost their light. Lips tightened, jaw set, she nodded. “Indeed.” She turned. “Ven'Cedwin, His Majesty and I have some small matters to discuss before I'll be ready to dictate the dukes' letters. Have you yet broken your midday fast?”
“I have not, Majesty.”
She smiled. “Then by all means excuse yourself to the buttery, and be certain of a hearty meal. One hour should see me ready to begin.” She nodded at his leather box of inks, pens and papers on the floor beside his chair. “Leave your tools here, I'll keep them safe.”
Ven'Cedwin bowed. “Majesty.” Turning, he bowed again. “King Alasdair.”
As the antechamber door closed behind the venerable, Rhian pressed a hand to her eyes. “Don't shout at me, Alasdair. I had no choice.”
“No choice but to let Zandakar out of his cell? How is that, Rhian? What possible use can he be to you now?”
She stared at him, her dulled eyes hurt. “Are you setting spies to watch for me, Alasdair?”
“Don't be stupid,” he snapped. “Did you think no-one would comment as you paraded him through the palace covered in blood?”
“He wasn't covered in blood, he cut his arm. I took him to Ursa.”
“Cut his arm how? Did he attack you? Were you forced to defend yourself?”
With a sigh Rhian dropped into the nearest chair. “No, of course he didn't attack me. If you must know he cut himself, Alasdair. Swearing a blood oath that he'd serve me unto death.”
“Rhian…” Fighting the urge to take her by the shoulders and shake until all her bones rattled, he stepped out of the doorway. “A queen can't afford sentiment. The man is an enemy. Rollin save us, he's the son of the woman bent on our destruction!”
“Zandakar's not responsible for his mother and brother,” she replied. “Any more than Helfred was responsible for his uncle. We are born as we're born, Alasdair. What counts is what we do, not how our relatives conduct themselves. Should Ludo run amok in Linfoi tomorrow, am I supposed to hold you accountable?”
The idea of Ludo running amok almost made him smile; the weight of a ducal chain had anchored his cousin almost to immobility. But I have no doubt the shock of it will wear off. I should see him married soon, to complete his unlikely transformation. “No. Of course not.”
“Well, then,” said Rhian, as though the matter were settled.
“Rhian, Ludo is not Zandakar and you know it,” he replied, forcing a mildness he did not feel. “For one thing, Ludo's never killed a man in his life while Zandakar—”
“Has killed thousands, I know,” said Rhian, allowing temper free rein. “There's no need to remind me. Alasdair, it's because he's killed that I need him now.”
He moved to the antechamber's other empty chair and sat, his heart pounding. He so mistrusted the thoughts shifting behind her eyes. “Why?”
“Oh, Alasdair. When I said I had no choice but to fight the dukes, what do you think I meant?”
She can't. She can't. She's barely left her girlhood behind. “You mean to challenge them to judicial combat.”
She smiled. “I should've
But I doubt it.
He'd left the chamber's door open. Through it he heard a sound in the antechamber, the whispered creaking of a hinge, the turning of a handle. Heard Ven'Cedwin get to his feet.
“Your Majesty.”
“Ven'Cedwin?” Rhian sounded distracted, and surprised. “I didn't think you were sent for yet. I'm not ready for the writing of the dukes' letters.”
Alasdair moved from the curtained window to the doorway and looked into the antechamber. “Since this is a matter of urgency, Rhian, I thought it best he be waiting close by. Especially since you are so busy, with other weighty matters on your mind…”
He saw in her face that she realised what he meant. Her eyes, which could burn so warm, lost their light. Lips tightened, jaw set, she nodded. “Indeed.” She turned. “Ven'Cedwin, His Majesty and I have some small matters to discuss before I'll be ready to dictate the dukes' letters. Have you yet broken your midday fast?”
“I have not, Majesty.”
She smiled. “Then by all means excuse yourself to the buttery, and be certain of a hearty meal. One hour should see me ready to begin.” She nodded at his leather box of inks, pens and papers on the floor beside his chair. “Leave your tools here, I'll keep them safe.”
Ven'Cedwin bowed. “Majesty.” Turning, he bowed again. “King Alasdair.”
As the antechamber door closed behind the venerable, Rhian pressed a hand to her eyes. “Don't shout at me, Alasdair. I had no choice.”
“No choice but to let Zandakar out of his cell? How is that, Rhian? What possible use can he be to you now?”
She stared at him, her dulled eyes hurt. “Are you setting spies to watch for me, Alasdair?”
“Don't be stupid,” he snapped. “Did you think no-one would comment as you paraded him through the palace covered in blood?”
“He wasn't covered in blood, he cut his arm. I took him to Ursa.”
“Cut his arm how? Did he attack you? Were you forced to defend yourself?”
With a sigh Rhian dropped into the nearest chair. “No, of course he didn't attack me. If you must know he cut himself, Alasdair. Swearing a blood oath that he'd serve me unto death.”
“Rhian…” Fighting the urge to take her by the shoulders and shake until all her bones rattled, he stepped out of the doorway. “A queen can't afford sentiment. The man is an enemy. Rollin save us, he's the son of the woman bent on our destruction!”
“Zandakar's not responsible for his mother and brother,” she replied. “Any more than Helfred was responsible for his uncle. We are born as we're born, Alasdair. What counts is what we do, not how our relatives conduct themselves. Should Ludo run amok in Linfoi tomorrow, am I supposed to hold you accountable?”
The idea of Ludo running amok almost made him smile; the weight of a ducal chain had anchored his cousin almost to immobility. But I have no doubt the shock of it will wear off. I should see him married soon, to complete his unlikely transformation. “No. Of course not.”
“Well, then,” said Rhian, as though the matter were settled.
“Rhian, Ludo is not Zandakar and you know it,” he replied, forcing a mildness he did not feel. “For one thing, Ludo's never killed a man in his life while Zandakar—”
“Has killed thousands, I know,” said Rhian, allowing temper free rein. “There's no need to remind me. Alasdair, it's because he's killed that I need him now.”
He moved to the antechamber's other empty chair and sat, his heart pounding. He so mistrusted the thoughts shifting behind her eyes. “Why?”
“Oh, Alasdair. When I said I had no choice but to fight the dukes, what do you think I meant?”
She can't. She can't. She's barely left her girlhood behind. “You mean to challenge them to judicial combat.”
She smiled. “I should've
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