Will took one last look at Morey, whose mouth was hanging open stupidly, then took a breath and stepped inside.
Several candles dripped wax in iron sconces set about the walls. There were dark, lacquered chairs with velvet cushions, and draperies of blue, fringed with silver. All of it looked so familiar, everything except for the dozen men seated in a semi-circle of chairs around the half-moon table, in the center of the room, staring at him.
They wore fine silk tunics and velvet doublets, chains of office, flowing breeches and polished boots. They wore faces that demanded to know what he was doing intruding on their council, dressed in wrinkled tunic and worn trousers.
“I’m sorry, gentlemen, I–”
He found Byron’s face. The man looked haggard, as he stepped from a connecting chamber. His red hair was straight, his thin beard neatly trimmed, but Will knew those troubled eyes. Though the two were of an age with one another, today Byron looked at least ten years his senior. Something was wrong.
“Ah, you’re here,” said Byron, with a weary smile. “That leaves only one not in attendance, and I have sent my guards out again. We might as well begin.”
Will found himself pulling up a chair, as Byron sat, despite every instinct telling him to flee the room. All eyes were on him, though they turned to Byron as he began to speak again.
“As most of you now know, my brother Robert, Duke of Lyle, is dead.”
Will’s throat turned to stone. From the audible gasps about the room, he wasn’t the only one unprepared for this. He had no particular love for Robert. He was bold and arrogant, where Byron was calm and modest. But with the King dead, and now Robert, his eldest son–
“I am now Heir Apparent to the Throne of Hyrel. The contingency plans of last night will have to be made permanent. All efforts now will have to go into securing the realm.” With that, he turned to Halster Brighton, as if all of this had been rehearsed.
Halster sat forward. He was a man of more than sixty years, thin and wiry, with bushy, gray whiskers. He had been one of the King’s most trusted advisors for over thirty years. There was a time he was said to be one of the finest swords in the realm. Looking at him now, his hands shaking, Will had a hard time imaging that.
“My Lords of Hyrel, quick and decisive action is necessary. We need muster all of our forces. A strong presence outside Valis is paramount.”
The room erupted in dispute. The highest-ranking nobles owing allegiance to House Lyle suddenly shouting at one another about securing the castle, invasions, assuring the throne, where to strike and when, who was responsible, what had happened. Missives were handed about the room, and quickly torn at and argued over. When they came to Will from grudging hands, he read them with disbelief, not able to process the accounts of what transpired at Valis.
“I urge caution,” said Lord Lewin Laswick, standing. The room fell silent, as it often did when a man of such girth and standing, opened his mouth. “No need to alarm the entire realm. Let us not be hasty.”
“At the very least we should demand the return of Robert’s body and our Imperial blade,” said Byron. “It has been in our family for centuries.”
“A funeral must take place, yes,” Lewin replied. “The King will have to be seen to first, of course. But we need not worry ourselves over trifles, just now. We must remain focused on what is important.”
Will shook his head but dared not say anything. The sword is a symbol. Byron was right, they should demand its return and quickly.
“What of my coronation then?” Byron said. There seemed to be a hint of desperation in his voice that Will did not like. “Should I not be crowned as soon as propriety allows?”
Yes. We can’t give the contending Houses of the realm a moment to think.
“No,” said Lewin. “I think not. The King of Hyrel has always been crowned at Valis, due to the city’s declaration of neutrality. It is a gesture that ensures the King is beholden to no faction above the good of the realm.”
“Madness,” said Will. All eyes turned toward him. He cursed himself when he realized he had opened his mouth. He thought not to continue, but as those assembled stared at him, he ground his fist against his leg, and decided to push on, now that he had started. “The Prince of Valis had to have been involved in Robert’s assassination. He was murdered inside the Iyril Palace itself, if these reports can be believed.” He turned to Lord Brighton, hoping for support.
“I must agree with Lord Laswick on this matter,” Brighton put in, “as much as I merit Master William’s reasoning. Coronation at Valis is too old a tradition to break, especially given the circumstances. We need to blanket ourselves in as much legitimacy as we can in the times ahead. Tradition is our protection.”
Will slumped back in his chair. Though Brighton did favor him with a brief smile, it did little to improve his mood.
“Then at the least I should be named Prince Regent and Duke of Lyle,” said Byron, sitting forward. His mouth was a thin line, his jaw set, his eyes determined.
Lewin Laswick scoffed. “Now, Byron–”
“I agree,” said Halster Brighton.
“As do I,” piped Will. Again, everyone turned toward him, and this time Laswick arched an eyebrow. His face grew hot. I must learn to control my tongue, lest someone decide I’d be better off without it.
Those in attendance seemed amenable to this, so Byron moved on, though he looked almost frightened when he said, “What of the conspirators? Gossip already flies on the winds. Someone was behind my brother’s death.”
Another bevy of arguments started, more heated than before. Old Lord Letton Liddell’s curled fingers looked as if they were poised to strangle Lord Wallis of Wefton, and Lord Allister Caldridge stood red of face and shouting over the merchant Serran Odell. Will looked to Byron, hoping he would stand up and demand order. But as the meeting began to seem like it might break out in violence, Byron only looked to Halster Brighton who spoke up again, calming the room.
“An investigation must commence, that is certain. We must find the responsible parties and put them to death.”
“Yet, we must not rush to judgment,” Laswick added. “The last thing we need is every noble in the realm fearing for their life, and by that becoming an easy ally for whoever might be behind all of this.”
Everyone turned to Byron, as if looking for a settlement on the matter. He suddenly looked very uncomfortable again, squirming in his seat. “What do you think, Will?”
Will’s face grew hot. He would pound the man, when everyone else had left. Why was Byron doing this to him? Had he wronged him so? Fine, he would say it. There was no escaping it now. “It seems to me the answer is that which everyone here knows, but which no one wants to say. There was treachery involved, and House Casterlin is the most obvious culprit.”
The yelling of before was nothing compared to the tumult that came now. The worst part was that so much of it was directed at Will, this time. Perturbed stares became angry shouts, pointed fingers, and words dripping with venom. Yet above it all, Will caught Byron smiling at him. What is he so happy about?
Lewin Laswick silenced the room again, this time with the clearing of his throat, a gesture that sent his jowls to quivering. He shot a dangerous look at Will, and then said, “I concede that many will think this. Yet, even the Casterlins would not be so rash. It would be too obvious a move for them. Too dangerous. Remember, my own son was at Valis, and is surely now dead, as he would never leave Robert’s side. Despite this, I must think rationally. I suggest another tactic, to shore up an alliance between the two most powerful Houses of Hyrel and put silly rumors such as these to rest. We must find a way to wed the two families together–”
The doors to the chamber swung open with a crash. A young woman strode in, her auburn hair a mess, yesterday’s gown wrinkled and out of sorts. Her cheeks had been hastily wiped, but the dark liner around her eyes was still smudged. Will could only think she still looked beautiful that way, perhaps more so. He gulped and sat there
, despite feeling that there was something he should do.
“My presence was requested?” the woman asked, out of breath, as she scanned the room with wide eyes. After a few moments of those in attendance staring at her with their mouths agape, she straightened her shoulders, and attempted to smooth the lines in her dress with little effect.
“Ah, Alaina,” said Byron, rising. “So good of you to join us. My guards said you were not in your chambers. Gentlemen, you all know my dear sister.”
Chapter Three
ALAINA
Alaina flew into her chamber and threw the door shut behind her. She moved through the small foyer and into the sitting room, and began pacing the length of the wide, lavish space. She started biting at her thumbnail, but then forced herself to stop, folding her hands in front of her, as if to hold them down.
Bright light filtered in through leaded glass windows, crisscrossed with iron. The entire suite was laid out with a façade of crème-colored plaster, an attempt to bring some vibrancy to the dreary gray stone. Silk curtains bordered the windows in pink and red. Alaina tried to make herself follow the flows of silk, cascading in uniform fashion down the windows, like a flowing river.
Calm down. Breathe. Be more like…
She'd like to tell herself to be more like her mother, but she only knew her mother through stories from her father, and vague recollections from Robert. She was two when her mother died, Byron only a babe.
Be more like Father. Or Robert. They always remain calm, in the thick of it.
But they were both gone, now. Dead. Tears welled in her eyes. She fought to control them. Stop it. Think.
The door to her chamber started to creak open. Alaina dashed at her eyes with the back of her hand and peered around the corner toward the entryway.
A mop of brown hair poked out from around the thick door, then almond eyes, a wide nose.
"Will,” she said.
Will moved around the edge of the door, and pressed it shut behind him. He moved over to her and took her in his arms.
His embrace was strong. She started to feel better, breathe more steadily. They had known each other for years, grown up together. Then the other night, when she felt as if the world itself was slowly slipping away, she had found comfort in his arms.
They moved apart, and she looked up at him. He favored her with a slanted smile. "Eyes of sapphire."
"Oh, Will. What's happening? First Father, now… Robert." She felt her eyes starting to well up again.
Will pulled her in and kissed her. She almost lost herself in that moment and had to push him away despite every fiber of her being not wanting to. When she opened her eyes, he was looking at her and saying, "I know. I know."
"What are we going to do?"
He straightened and let his arms fall by his sides. "Byron will be confirmed soon. Surely, he will… I mean, we can convince him – he must let us wed."
Alaina found herself smiling and shaking her head. "Not that. I mean, about Father. Robert."
"There will be a funeral for your father, Alaina. A grand affair. Byron and the lords will see to Robert, whatever may have happened."
"The lords care more about clamoring for position, than anything, and Byron… you two have been thick as thieves since you were boys, but even you must know. Whoever murdered Robert certainly did. Byron is not ready for this."
Will stiffened and turned from her. He started toying with a globe of glass that sat on a darkwood pedestal against the wall. "I don't know. I'm sure he'll be alright."
"He doesn't see it, Will. None of them do. I heard them in that meeting, talking as if I wasn't there."
"It may not have been Byron's brightest decision, inviting his sister," Will said, and then throwing up a hand, added, "or a commoner for that matter."
Alaina couldn't disagree with him, but he was missing the point. "Something is going on."
"Alaina." Will turned back to her. "It's sad, but your father was sick. Robert, well, you know how he could be."
She took a step back and glared at him. Everyone she had told the story to had said it was all in her imagination, that she was jumping at shadows. “Not you too."
"Come now–"
"I know what I saw.” When she had gone to her father’s room and found him gone, someone else was there. She knew it. She had seen it with her own two eyes. “Someone else was in that room. What's happened to Robert only confirms it."
"Lord Brighton arrived moments after you cried out. He said he saw no one."
"Halster is old, perhaps his vision–"
"Alaina…"
"I don't care if you don't believe me.” It didn’t matter if the whole realm thought her a fool. “I'll do what I must, by my own means, if need be."
The door to the chamber opened again, and this time it was Byron who entered. He seemed to notice something was out of sorts, looking from Will to Alaina in confusion. "Will, what are you–?"
"Hello, Byron," Will said, moving in front of her. "I heard a sound, and thought I'd step in to make sure Alaina was alright."
Alaina took the opportunity to wipe her eyes again, and then forced a smile. "Yes, I, ah, twisted my ankle, in my rush, and, must have cried out."
Byron looked from one of them to the other again, looking far too serious; a habit that he seemed to have picked up in the last few days. He finally laughed and said, "Not more shadows?
Alaina bit her lower lip, trying to quell a desire to rush across the room and strike him. "No brother," she said through clenched teeth. "Assuredly, not."
"Well, if you're alright, Alaina," Will said, "I supposed I should be on my way."
"A moment, Will," said Byron. "You may want to hear this. The nobles have reconvened. We've come up with a proposition for an alliance with House Casterlin."
"Alaina!" Byron cried, his voice cracking. He tried to grasp at her trailing dress. "Wait a moment!"
"Come now, Byron," said Alaina, as she hurried down the stone corridor, "at the least I should be party to a council which is deciding my fate."
"You can't let them do this, Byron," said Will, who was hurrying along behind them. "It's not safe."
"They wouldn't dare harm her. Don't be foolish. The ceremony itself wouldn't be for a good six months hence, at any rate."
They rounded a corner, and Alaina pushed through the doors to Byron's chamber. The men were seated as they were the night before, arrayed in the same semi-circle of chairs.
"My Lords of Hyrel," Alaina said, with a low curtsey, "I hear a discussion has begun concerning my betrothal."
Their mouths hung open again, but this time it had nothing to do with her appearance. She had made Will and Byron wait while she combed her hair and put on a fine dress of pale blue velvet, all the while having to listen to the pair of them begging her to stay in her room.
"I would ask that all but Lord Brighton and Lord Laswick take their leave," she said. Let them think on that.
The remaining lords looked to Byron, who turned to Alaina, swallowed hard, then nodded. They stood without a sound and began filing from the room. Alaina turned when they had left, and found Will staring at her. She made a small sound, as if clearing her throat, and nodded toward the door.
Will narrowed his eyes, spun on his heels, and departed.
Surely, he understands it would be unseemly for him to stay. What excuse would we have? As much as her feelings were deepening for him, sometimes she still couldn’t understand why he didn’t see what was plainly in front of his face.
"Gentlemen." Alaina pulled up a chair. "I hear I am to be promised to the Duke of Casterlin." She tried her hardest not to think about the one portrait she had seen of Stans Wallace Casterlin, more than fifty years of age, nearly bald, with eyes set close together, and a dull look on his face.
"It is an arrangement not without merit," said Halster. Lord Brighton carried a lot of weight at court, both for the acts and deeds of his youth, and his years of service to her father. He could be trusted. Now Lord L
aswick...
Lewin Laswick leaned in toward her. She had to force herself not to back away from his bulbous nose, rife with dark purple veins, and the scent of onion on his breath. "Surely you understand, my dear, it will bring the two Houses together, and dispel any notion that there is enmity between us. It will bring a sense of calm to the realm."
"Certainly, all of this my brother has explained. I have only one request."
"And that is?" Laswick asked.
"The arrangement called for the Duke to come to Lyle, to be here with me, during our courtship."
"Yes," said Halster. "That would be advantageous to all."
"I ask that I instead be allowed to go to Casterlin. To meet the Duke and his family. To get to know my future home during this time."
The men in the room sat staring at her, their eyes wide, saying nothing. Alaina had to suppress a smile.
Lord Laswick nodded, finally. “We shall take a week to prepare you for your voyage and send word across the Kaspen Sea. Who do we have that we could send along? Someone from the east perhaps.”
“Martin Krye is still at court, is he not?” Halster offered.
Alaina sighed. “Not Martin.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she knew her mistake. Her face grew hot. Had they noticed a note of familiarity?
“What’s wrong with Master Krye?” Byron asked, arching an eyebrow.
“Nothing, nothing,” she said, praying Will hadn’t heard her through the thick doors. She told herself he’d most likely moved along by now, anyway.
Byron nodded, locking eyes with her. “Krye, then.”
Alaina cursed under her breath. “Yes, yes of course.”
The stone bench in the house garden was cold, a feeling that crept into her legs and made her shiver. The sun had long since set, and the moon sat large in the night sky, high and bright. For some reason on this balcony, amongst the flowers with their myriad colors, and the plants and topiaries of all shapes and sizes, she always found peace.
And Will always found her. It wasn’t more than a half hour before she heard him walk into the large courtyard, his boots echoing off the slate flagstones. He came up behind her, almost touching her, his body warm on her back.
The Hawk and the Falcon Page 2
