“It seems to me that Lord Gregor has had too much free time since he returned from his last campaign,” she said as she chewed.
“Agreed—he needs to be occupied.”
“I think I have something that will distract him.”
The chancellor looked at her with interest.
Did she really dig something up?
“Out with it. As long as we have to work together, it’ll help to share information.”
“How long I’ve waited for this,” Lady Eltinia said with a sigh.
“I don’t doubt it. Just remember, this is because we have no other choice.”
His mother wiped her hands on a napkin and went over to a tall carved cabinet featuring lots of little boxes. She pulled one out, retrieving from it a packet of letters tied with a blue ribbon.
“You’ll find this interesting.” Demos looked inquisitively at the papers Eltinia handed him. “I have my man in Ellisdor: Vasser Dibrion. He’s a nobleman, though a poor orphan, and I took him under my patronage a long time ago. The boy has a talent for intrigue, so I saw to it that he found service as a squire under Gregor Voldhard. He’s a fine boy, if overly ambitious. And he loves writing me.”
“You didn’t tell me you were spying on Gregor.”
“Oh, not just him,” his mother replied with a triumphant smile. “I’m following everything that happens in his castle. Go ahead and read—there’s a lot in there.”
Demos dove into the letters, puffing at his pipe. Eltinia threw open the windows.
“I can’t stand when you smoke.”
“Deal with it,” he replied without looking up. His mother muttered something to herself.
The dates on the letters told him that news from Ellisdor came on average a couple times every moon. From the short missives, Demos learned some details about what had happened to the Latanian ambassador, not to mention the arrival of a small group of mercenaries from Givoi under the command of Artanna nar Toll. The latter, needless to say, was infamous and a favorite of the late duke of Highligland. While Demos hadn’t heard much about her, and much of what he had heard was fiction, he already knew a lot of what was in the letters—useless information that had nothing to do with the matter at hand. One piece of news, however, attracted his attention. Forgetting everything else, he gripped the scrap of paper.
A little more, and I’m going to start believing in a god.
“Is this true?” Devaton tossed one of the letters in his mother’s lap.
“Oh, yes!” she replied with obvious relish. “I knew you’d like that.”
Gregor Voldhard, you damn hypocrite! A pupil of the Order and the future wife of the emperor? You solemnly swore to protect the Latanian ambassador—we remember that—though did god himself tell you it was okay to screw her? Or did you not ask for permission? And how can you sleep at night with that on your conscience?
“I imagine the great master will want to see this. Ladarius isn’t throwing around accusations yet, so we can manage it,” Demos said. He still couldn’t make what he’d read fit in his head.
You surprise me, cousin. You should have gone into theater—you’d have been better suited there than throwing your sword around on the border. And here I am, beating myself up about all the deceit I have going on. The Order, righteousness, piety… At least, I have the nerve to admit and live with how detestable my life is. But you… You… Curse me if I let one more person be mistaken about you.
“It looks like you’re impressed,” Eltinia grunted.
“I’m furious, mother.”
The dowager duchess laughed.
“Put him in his place. As you can see, we don’t make for a bad team.”
Demos stuck the letter in his pocket and heaved himself to his feet.
“I need to go.”
“Don’t thank me,” Eltinia said sarcastically.
“If Lord Gregor wanted to create a scandal, a scandal he shall get,” Demos replied quietly. “Although, I doubt he’ll like the way things are going to go.”
“Make it happen.”
“I won’t let anyone threaten our house,” came the cold reply as the duke gripped his cane.
With that, he left. And he was so burdened with his thoughts that he didn’t even hear his mother burst into triumphant laughter.
***
For the first time, you’re there when I need you.
At the entrance to the atrium, the chancellor saw Brother Lasius’ brilliantly bald head. The investigator was placidly reclined in the shade of a fruit tree, engrossed in the study of an enormous tome. Demos couldn’t conceal his surprise when he got closer.
“A collection of Turidius’ work? Brother Lasius, your loyalist views delight me.”
“The church allows us to read ancient imperial works when they’re aimed at bringing out the best qualities in a person,” the investigator said, looking up at the chancellor with dead, colorless eyes. “Turidius’ travel notes contain unending wisdom. The form and content are fabulous, and the language…”
For just a second, Demos thought he saw a smile playing on the clergyman’s lips.
We all have our weaknesses. But who would have thought that a senior investigator in the Collegium would appreciate the ancients?
“Is this a polite greeting, or can I do something for Your Grace?” the monk asked.
“I need to speak with the great master in private and as soon as possible.”
Brother Lasius’ light, mobile brows narrowed, his expression darkening. His fingers continued stroking the yellowed pages with a lover’s tenderness.
“I’m not sure I can organize a meeting quickly without a good reason,” he said finally. “That’s taking into account the fact that this is the first time you’re asking.”
Demos pulled the Ellisdor spy’s letter out of his pocket and handed it to the investigator.
“I think this is a very good reason.”
The monk quickly ran his eyes over the page, instantly closing his book with a dull thud.
“Agreed—this will interest His Holiness. I’ll set up a meeting as soon as I can.”
With a curt nod, Lasius left the atrium.
The die is cast.
Chapter 35. Ellisdor
“Thank god, you’re awake.”
Gregor greeted Irital’s servant girls and motioned for them to leave him and their mistress alone.
“What else can I do? The boredom and worry are about to drive me up a wall, at least if I have the strength.”
The ambassador placed a bowl of strengthening broth on the table, threw off her shawl, and stepped closer to her beloved. Gregor, locking the door from the inside, kissed the top of her head. Then, with a shiver, he tossed a couple logs on the fire.
“How do you feel? It’s so cold in here.”
“I’m getting used to the northern climate,” Irital replied with a smile. “I’m already much better. Really. The worst is behind me.”
The ambassador was already permitted to move around, though the healers continued to keep an eye on her. Brother Aristid in particular watched her like a hark. Irital had noticed that Gregor treated the monk with nearly the same warmth he had for his old friend Aldor or even Irital herself. The only thing she didn’t know was if that was his way of thanking the monk for saving her or because he’d found in him a like-minded man of the faith. But one thing was for sure: the duke and Aristid had grown so close so quickly that they prayed together in the morning.
“I don’t think everything’s behind you,” Gregor said darkly, collapsing so heavily into a chair that it squealed in discomfort. The duke looked exhausted. In fact, it was almost as if he’d aged several years. The shoulders slumped, and there were deep bags under his eyes. “The people after you are powerful enough to use Rex Gerifas, a guild that always finishes the jobs it starts. No matter how many attempts it takes. They’ll be back.”
“Still, we’re doing a good job beating them off, and you found me some decent guards. I even kind of li
ke that rude Vagran.”
“I can’t bear even the thought that they’re coming after you.” Gregor held his head in his hands so tightly that it looked like it was about to explode. “Oh, god, Irital, when we decided to do this, when I announced my candidacy for the throne, I never thought the pressure would be like this! I was sure I’d be the only one in danger. But they knew where to attack.”
“Exactly,” the ambassador replied with a nod. “In Missolen, they found out too easily where I am, which means they have a spy here. And until we figure out who that is, we need to be extra careful when we’re discussing plans.”
“Yes, I realized that, as well. But we won’t be able to smoke him out quickly.”
“Damn the spy. For now. Everything that happened to me was a warning, Gregor. Somebody out there doesn’t like your candidacy, and the fact that they hired Rex Gerifas means they have close ties to Ennia. It’s not hard to guess who that might be.”
“The Burned Lord.”
“Nobody else comes to mind. And I can even understand why he wouldn’t want to kill you,” Irital said, settling into the chair across from the duke. “He needs you. But he needs you here. As long as the Runds are attacking on two fronts, in Highligland and in Osvendis, they aren’t a serious threat to the empire. Missolen needs a strong commander in the west, and that’s why they left you alive. But they’re hinting at what will happen if you don’t rescind your claim on the throne.”
“Another choice. Probably, the last chance. What would you do?”
“I love you, Gregor, and that’s all that matters to me.” Irital surprised herself with how firm her voice was. “Even if you decide to give in and order me back to Latandal, I’ll go along with that. You did all of this for me, and I won’t turn my back on my responsibility.”
Gregor looked at her as if she’d gone crazy.
“No, I’m definitely not letting them have you. Especially now.”
“I’m happy to hear that.”
The duke said nothing for a while, unsure of where to begin.
“God knows, I tried to protect you from this,” he said finally with a sigh. “When you were recovering, I had a lot of time to think about what to do next. And I made a decision.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’m going to rescind my claim to the throne. At least, for now, since it’s obvious I’m not ready for that. Rhinhilda and Aldor were right.”
“But you already put a target on your back. And I made such a serious move that my family won’t forget—even if you do step down, the consequences for us will be serious.”
“I understand that,” Gregor nodded. “I stepped onto their turf and lost—they’re stronger there. It was a mistake. And so, that means we’re going to fight on my turf. I won’t maintain contact with people who threatened someone close to me, and so Highligland will leave the Criasmor Treaty to become the kingdom it was before the alliance. We should have done that a long time ago. Really, Missolen has never offered us serious assistance, never sent warriors to help fight the Runds. Yes, we built relationships with the distant states, including trade relations, but that’s an awfully small reward to earn for protecting all of them. We can handle Rundkar without Missolen.”
“That’s not exactly a compromise. You’ll only give Missolen one thing they want, and in exchange, you’re robbing them of an ally. Gatson won’t like it, either. They’re in the alliance, too, don’t forget.”
“They are, but King Enrige will do what he always does: stay neutral. I’ve known him for a while, and he stays out of conflicts unless they’re in his interest.”
The ambassador wrapped her shawl more tightly around herself. She still wasn’t completely used to the Ellisdor cold, though she should have been. The accursed draft in the master wing was going to finish her sooner or later.
“They won’t forgive that,” she said with a shiver. “Not in Missolen, not in Eclusum.”
“And what are they going to do? They can’t force Highligland back into the alliance. For the first time, I’m glad we’re this far away.”
“The great master can release an edict forbidding the faithful from trading with Highligland. There have been several instances in history where the head of the church excommunicated entire countries, and Ladarius won’t hesitate—he won’t forgive your audacity. Then, Highligland will be isolated from trade, and that would be fatal.”
Gregor slapped an armrest in annoyance.
“How is what we have now any different from isolation?” he asked, staring at Irital. “We have the sea on either side, the Runds to the north, closed Vag Ran to the northeast, and to the south, Gatson, ruled by a house that goes wherever the wind blows. We’ve always been alone with our problems, and we’ll always be that way. I’m just saying we should admit that and go our own way.”
“But the lords…”
“What about the lords?”
“They won’t all want to submit to your sole leadership,” the ambassador said timidly.
“I’ll take care of that, too.”
“How?”
“Where eloquence isn’t enough; I’ll convince them by other means. There’s nowhere for them to go. Urst, Grauer, Meln, and Kelbu will be on my side, along with, most importantly, their troops. Everyone else will fall into line sooner or later. Really, there’s nowhere for them to go.”
Irital looked at her beloved silently and wondered at how everything that had happened had changed Gregor. The changes scared her, too. Was it really all the assassination attempt? And was there anything she could do to help? Sometimes, Irital berated herself for her how she pushed him along and was terrified at what could happen to him, so much so that she seriously thought about writing her uncle in Latandal, asking his forgiveness, and accepting the just punishment for breaking her vow. She just wanted them to leave Gregor alone. But she also knew that there was no way for that to happen. She’d made her choice, and there was no road back.
“I didn’t want to say anything, but as long as we’re talking…”
“What is it?” Voldhard asked, his voice worried.
“This morning, I received a letter from Great Master Ladarius. They found out about you and me. They have witnesses, too. Obviously, it’s the same spy who told them about me being in Ellisdor. They’re accusing us of violating our holy vows, and we’re being summoned to appear at the Ecumenical Court in Missolen on the first day of the last summer month.”
“Oh, that. Yes, I know,” the duke replied calmly. “I got that order, too.”
“How are we going to respond?”
“I already did. For both of us.”
The Latanian paled.
“Why… Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was busy with other things and didn’t want to worry you. We’re not showing up in court.”
“They’ll hand down the verdict in absentia. Nothing will change.”
“Exactly,” Gregor replied with a smile. “It doesn’t matter what they say. The judges will just untie our hands, leaving us with nothing to lose.”
“My people will condemn me,” Irital said quietly. “I’ll be condemned to death for forsaking my vow.”
“You aren’t going back to Latandal,” Gregor said, looking at the Latanian in surprise. “I thought you understood that when you decided to stay with me.”
“Of course, but…”
The duke stuck his hand in the pocket of a small belt pouch and pulled out a velvet purse.
“Around here, you’re not supposed to woo a woman with empty hands,” he said as he fought the tight knots holding the purse closed. Finally, pulling it open, Gregor fished out an exquisite gold bracelet shaped like grape vine. “In Gatson, they give their brides rings; in Highland, it’s bracelets, though you knew that already. This one belonged to my grandmother. It’s time to make a final decision—are you willing to go through with this to the end? Will you be my wife?”
Irital stared at the gift in shock.
“I didn’t
expect… Blessed Keeper! Of course, I will!”
“I know you really were expecting it,” Voldhard said with a grin, though his eyes were still cold. “I should say, I misled you—you aren’t going to be empress for a while. All I can offer for now is the crown of free Highligland. Does that work for starters?”
“It’s okay, I’ll get used to it,” Irital replied slowly, stunned by the news.
Satisfied, Gregor clapped his hands together.
“In that case, it’s decided. On the first day of the last summer month, the day the imperials will hold court over us, we’ll have the wedding. Start getting ready. Just remember, there isn’t really anyone to invite, so give some thought to who can walk you to the altar.”
The ambassador nodded silently. Gregor stood up and stretched his stiff muscles, then suddenly hugged and kissed his beloved.
“Finally, we’re going to be able to stop hiding. Every time, I feel like an idiot,” he said with a sigh. “I need to go. Get some rest. Highligland needs a healthy queen.”
After saying goodbye, the duke left and permitted the servants waiting in the corridor to rejoin their mistress.
The Latanian stared dumbly at the door that closed behind the duke. The servant girl who walked in, seeing her mistress’ shivering hands, hurried to warm some spiced wine. Irital fastened the bracelet on her wrist and covered her face with her cold hands, trying to come to terms with her emotions.
“The apostate queen,” she whispered.
Chapter 36. Missolen
When Demos appeared, Master Yun jumped up energetically, almost knocking his chair over, and bowed in greeting.
“I see you have a gift.” The chancellor pointed at the man in a dirty religious robe wearing a sack on his head.
“Master Tillius, just like you ordered!” Archella’s spy replied with an excited smile. “All the way from Ulfiss. I grabbed him outside the cloister, though, I should tell you, he thought I was a robber at first. Imagine, me—a robber! Ridiculous.”
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