Charles grinned. “Ah, so he’s the lucky man.”
“Yes.”
“Well, it will be an honor to see that you have a tolerable evening, for both your sake and his.”
Rides through the countryside south of Valcré were vital for Daniel’s sanity. Being stuck inside the walls of Auréa Palace would drive him mad otherwise. If only he didn’t have eight members of Auréa’s security following him everywhere. They were a necessity he’d learned to ignore, but he could hardly wait to free himself of them when he attended the meeting at Ben’s house tonight.
He spent hours roaming the forested roads and small villages in the area. It was easy to forget out here that he was the crown prince of it all—easy to imagine a simpler life. However, his guards were quick to remind him of reality when they urged him to return home before it grew too late and started to rain. Reluctantly, Daniel complied.
Following a well-trodden road, they entered the city and clattered up the streets toward the palace. People waved greetings to him along the way, and he responded with smiles, genuinely enjoying the interaction. He liked people—well, most people. Often he disguised himself to mingle among them. He’d become convinced over the years that there were better men among the common people than in his father’s circles.
When they trotted into the palace courtyard, Daniel pulled his gray steed to a halt and patted the gelding’s neck. The horse tossed his head. He’d enjoyed a good run as much as Daniel had. The weather lately hadn’t allowed them to get out nearly as much as Daniel would have liked. His mood had definitely taken a hit in recent weeks, but today had refreshed him.
Jumping down, he handed the horse off to the waiting groom and turned toward the palace entrance. Tension tightened his muscles. His parents were walking together across the courtyard. So much for his good mood. He rolled his shoulders to loosen them, and set off for the stairs. He met his parents there.
“Did you have a good ride?” his mother asked as she eyed him meaningfully. If any sort of bridge existed between him and his father, she was it.
“Yes, a very good ride.” He gave her a genuine smile. The friction always bothered her, and he made a determined effort to shield her from it. He then glanced at his father, fighting to maintain his good humor. “I need to go change.”
Though the rain held during the ride, the wet countryside had left him spattered in mud. He turned and took two steps toward the door before his father’s voice halted him.
“We’re having dinner with the Earl of Danthan and Baron Stant. I don’t want you disappearing tonight.”
The tension rushed back, only tripled. Daniel balled his fists. He wouldn’t miss another meeting. He turned to his father, who speared him with a warning look.
“I doubt I could add anything to the evening.”
“You will be there,” his father said evenly.
“Why?”
“Because one day you’ll be emperor, and I need to make sure you’re capable of undertaking the responsibility and handling the sorts of people you will deal with.”
Daniel gritted his teeth. If he were king one day—and it would be king, no more of this ridiculous emperor business—then many things would change, including the sorts of people he had in his advisor circle. Yet, he bit back a retort. He tried hard these days to avoid disrespecting his father, as difficult as that was.
“I think I’ll manage.” He turned again to leave, praying to avoid an all-out argument.
“I expect you at the table on time.”
Daniel paused and dragged in a hard breath as he battled every impulse he would have readily given in to a year ago. He wavered a moment on the right course of action, desperate for the fellowship at Ben’s, but convicted to obey his father in this instance. Over his shoulder, he ground out, “Fine.”
He took another step.
“Are you ill?”
He turned back once more. His father stood at the base of the steps, his fists planted on his hips.
Daniel frowned at him. “What?”
“I asked if you were ill, because you’ve made it your purpose in life to defy me since your youth, and now that defiance has been glaringly absent. As much as I’d like to believe you’ve matured and are acting like an adult, these abrupt changes raise suspicion.”
Daniel narrowed his eyes, that defiance closer to the surface than his father probably realized. “Yes, well, whatever my reasons, you’re certainly not making it easy for me.”
He spun around, and this time did not stop. His father had already stretched his restraint thin enough. If he didn’t leave now, he would snap and then have to deal with a guilty conscience later. He strode inside and up to his chambers, slamming the door behind him.
In the middle of his sitting room, he paused and released a long sigh. “Why, Lord? Why tonight? The one night I get to spend with other believers? If this is a test of my patience, then it’s certainly working.”
He entered his bedroom, yanked off his muddy riding clothes, and changed into a clean pair of pants and linen shirt. He didn’t bother with anything else. He’d have to change into something fancier for the evening in a short time anyway. Blasted formal dinners.
Back in his sitting room, he sank down into one of the chairs and rubbed his eyes with his fingertips, willing his ire to cool. The disappointment, however, lingered. He counted down the days to the meetings every week. To go another whole week without encouragement from Ben and the others would not help his thinning patience toward his father.
A knock tapped the door. Biting back a grumble, he pushed up from his chair. If his father had sent one of the servants with further orders for him . . .
He pulled open the door and drew his brows together. “Mother?”
“I think we should talk.”
Daniel’s frown deepened, but he motioned her inside. She stepped into the room, her eyes sweeping the area as if searching for something. Daniel remained standing by the door and watched her.
Finally, she turned to him. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your father is right. You’ve changed.”
A grumble rose in Daniel’s chest again. Couldn’t they simply be happy with the change? He then closed the door and faced his mother, crossing his arms. “Is that such a bad thing?”
“No. In fact, under normal circumstances, I would be very proud, but . . .” she eyed him critically, “I too question your motives. You haven’t been the same since . . .”
An expectant silence hung between them, and Daniel almost read the unspoken words on her face. He tipped his head. “Since when?”
His mother hesitated, her eyes flashing as if she suddenly regretted pressing him. “Nothing. Never mind.” She stepped toward the door.
But boldness grew from Daniel’s frustration. “Since he murdered Elon?”
His mother froze, her back stiffening. “It was an execution, not murder.”
“He killed an innocent man. I don’t see how that’s not murder.” He gritted his teeth. “He’s killed many innocent people.”
His mother held up her hand. “Stop it. Just stop. You’re starting to sound like . . . like one of them.”
Daniel stared at her, and some prompting overcame him that he believed was beyond himself. He never expected to do this here and now, but the words poured from his mouth. “I am one of them.” His mother’s face went slack and paled, and he affirmed, “I am a believer in Elôm.”
She took a step back, shaking her head. “No.” Her eyes flew to the door, but then she stepped toward him, her voice a sharp whisper. “You cannot do this. Not after everything your father is working to achieve for you.”
Daniel barely restrained a hard laugh. “This isn’t for me, this is for him, and he’s going about it all wrong. Mother, he is slaughtering innocent people simply because we worship a different God. It’s wrong.”
“No, stop. You must stop this now. It’s treason. You could be
executed.”
“That’s a chance I’m more than willing to take. And do you really believe I’m guilty?”
His mother turned her face away and would not speak.
“Mother, do you believe I’m guilty?”
If she answered no, it would prove what he had said—that his father was killing innocent people.
Her gaze slid back to him, this time with a sheen of tears. Daniel didn’t recall ever seeing her cry. She was always such a strong woman, and despite their disagreements over the years, she had always been there for him when his father wasn’t.
He softened his voice. “I’m sorry, Mother, but the things I’ve seen and experienced have shown me that Elôm is real and that Elon is His Son. That will never change, and I’ve chosen to live my life serving Him.”
His mother blinked hard and drew herself up. The tears disappeared, and her voice lowered. “I don’t know if I can keep this from your father.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
This apparently wasn’t the answer she wanted. A stormy mix of both fear and anger brewed in her eyes. “Do you have any idea of the danger you’re putting yourself in? If this is some rebellious stunt against your father—”
“Mother,” he cut in firmly. “This has nothing to do with rebelling. Quite the opposite. This is what compels me to do everything in my power to respect Father. And, of course, I understand the danger. I’ve witnessed execution after execution of the people who share my faith. I know exactly what this choice entails.”
His mother breathed deeply in and out, sorrow morphing her face. “I will keep quiet for now, but please, do not continue down this path.”
“I’m sorry, but this is my life now, whatever happens.”
Slowly, she nodded and walked to the door, her head bowed as if in defeat. Just before she opened it, she looked back at him. “This will not end well, Daniel.”
The carriage rocked and splashed down the road toward Landale, but their driver took particular care to avoid getting stuck this time. Anne sat between her mother and Elanor, while her father and Charles occupied the seat across from them.
Anne traded a quick smile with Charles. She really shouldn’t be so eager to see the look on Goler’s face when she arrived with such a prominent escort. Charles was sure to be the highest-ranking noble at the party, which would mostly consist of wealthy merchants, knights, and perhaps the neighboring baron and his family. Anyone else of notable standing lived too far away for a simple one-night dinner party. Being a viscount, and a popular one at that, Charles would command the attention of everyone present tonight.
“Anything more I should know about our gracious hosts?” he asked.
Since he was looking at her, Anne answered. “Well, Goler wants to be baron. If he wasn’t doing such a poor job of destroying the Resistance, I’m sure he would have found a way to eliminate Baron Grey by now and take the position for himself. He’s also extremely jealous. I’m sure he’ll be livid when he sees that I haven’t come alone.”
She glanced out the window at the sodden countryside. “Dagren is the dangerous one. I’ve only met him twice, but he’s very suspicious. We’ll have to be especially careful with what we say and how we act around him.”
Charles nodded but appeared up for the challenge.
They arrived at Landale Castle behind a line of carriages bearing the other guests. When their turn came, Anne’s father and Charles climbed out first and turned to assist the women. Approaching the castle entrance, Charles offered Anne his arm.
“Thank you for doing this for me,” she said as she accepted it.
“My pleasure.” His tone changed from lighthearted to more serious. “One thing I can’t abide is to see women taken advantage of in any sort of situation.”
And that’s what Anne appreciated so much about him. If only she had a brother like him, the way Kyrin had Kaden and her other brothers.
They entered the castle, where servants took their cloaks and ushered them into the sitting room. Around thirty people had arrived so far.
Anne scanned the spacious room and squeezed Charles’s arm. “There’s Goler.”
He stood with a good view of the door, no doubt watching for her arrival. She rarely saw him in anything but his uniform, yet tonight he wore a burgundy shirt under a surprisingly well-tailored black doublet. It did nothing, however, to distract from that greasy hair of his and the ugly scar slashed across his nose. His eyes flickered to Charles, narrowing, but then locked on Anne. His expression like stone, he strode toward them. Anne drew in a breath, but Charles stood as a strong and steady protector at her side.
“Lady Anne,” Goler said in smooth voice, yet his eyes glinted demandingly as he looked between her and Charles.
Anne put on her sweetest smile. “Captain Goler, allow me to introduce Lord Ilvaran, the Viscount of Dunrick. He’s here to visit his niece and requested that he be my escort tonight.” She said it with all innocence, as if she weren’t fervently thanking Elôm that he had.
Goler stared at Charles for a lengthy moment with a sickening half-smile that suggested he was fighting the urge to curse. Finally, he must have controlled himself. “Lord Ilvaran, welcome to Landale.”
“Thank you, Captain. It appears to be quite a charming place. I hope to see more of it, if the weather permits. I hear you have your hands full keeping the peace, what with traitorous outlaws running loose.”
“Indeed,” Goler spoke through his teeth. “In fact, I’m surprised your niece is allowed to remain in such a volatile area.”
Of course, if she weren’t, then Charles wouldn’t be here to ruin Goler’s evening. Anne fought an upwelling of smugness.
Charles gave a charming smile with not even a hint of subtle sarcasm. “Well, we trust the local officials to keep the innocent safe.”
Anne bit down hard to keep from grinning. Goler couldn’t argue against that.
“We do our best.” Goler forced his smarmy smile wider, but it didn’t hide the ice in his eyes. “I do hope you enjoy the evening and your visit.”
His gaze slid once more to Anne, seething just as she’d expected, but next to Charles, she felt secure.
“Thank you,” Charles said again. “I’m sure I will.” He then led Anne off to mingle with the rest of the guests.
Once they were out of earshot, Anne released a quiet laugh and glanced up at Charles. “We need to keep you around. You handled him better than anyone I know.”
Charles smiled handsomely. “I’ve had a lot of practice with such men.”
They worked their way through the guests—all of whom were delighted to meet Charles—before they finally reached Baron Grey and Anne’s parents. Charles and the baron greeted one another, but Anne grew distracted by Grey’s appearance. She had hoped he would be in better health tonight, but he appeared fatigued, his skin sallow and sagging. It robbed her good humor, and she traded a look with her father. Though she had warned him, it must be difficult for him to see the deterioration of Grey’s well-being firsthand.
They spoke briefly before parting as Baron Grey invited everyone to the dining room for the meal. Anne thanked Elôm that she didn’t have to sit next to Goler. He did, however, claim the chair directly across from her. His burning gaze destroyed her appetite, though she put great effort into ignoring him. The woman to her left, the young wife of a knight, inadvertently aided her by being a talkative sort and monopolizing Anne’s attention. She fairly gushed over Charles, far more than Anne thought proper for a married woman, but at least she was pleasant. And she wasn’t the only one interested in Charles. As Anne had anticipated, he commanded the table. Questions came from nearly everyone, even those seated at the far end.
Everyone but Dagren and Goler.
Captain Dagren appeared less perturbed than Anne would have expected—more like a bird of prey waiting to spot his next meal. Goler, however, stabbed at his food, wearing a scowl. It darkened every time Charles drew laughter from the guests, which he managed with ea
se. Goler cast a withering stare at Anne, and she offered her most innocent, doe-eyed look while biting back a smile. Just as Trask had feared, there was plenty of wine and ale, and Goler guzzled down multiple mugs before the meal finished.
When they did conclude, the table emptied, and everyone filtered into the ballroom. A group of local musicians set up and began a merry tune. Remaining at Charles’s side, Anne watched from the perimeter for a couple of minutes before he turned to her.
“I suppose we shouldn’t just stand here or someone will get the idea to come claim you.”
He offered his hand and guided her to join the dance. Anne was happy to participate. She didn’t get to dance much anymore. She missed the summertime celebrations when things were normal before the Resistance. She and Trask had danced until they could hardly stand sometimes. Such a time seemed lost now, possibly for good.
Anne and Charles shared a couple of dances, all very enjoyable until Anne spotted Dagren and Goler talking together alone in the corner near the refreshments table.
“I wonder what those two are scheming about,” she muttered under her breath as the current dance ended.
Charles looked over his shoulder. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Daniel swirled the wine in his goblet but hadn’t sipped any for a while. His father and their guests had already refilled theirs a time or two. Dessert sat before him, but he ignored the icing-drenched pastry. His father’s guests and their conversations ruined his appetite. And “guests” was a kind term for the two men. Daniel could think of a few other, more fitting, words. He gripped his goblet harder when Baron Stant, an overweight glutton with a trail of crumbs down his beard and velvet doublet, brought up the topic of Elôm believers.
“My men caught five of them meeting in this old barn outside the village,” he said around a mouthful of food. “I had them all hanged the next day. That should deter others. I don’t know where they all come from. They’re like rodents.”
Daniel eyed his fork, unable to keep himself from imagining how it might be used as a weapon. Good thing the baron was across the table and out of reach.
Exiles (Ilyon Chronicles Book 4) Page 7
