Gosh, he made it sound as if I'd done something wrong, and maybe even a little improper.
Before I could reply, Danton spoke. "Father, we've already discussed…" A sharp glare from his father silenced him.
"I'm not speaking to you," Lord Pontefract continued, shoving the impaled olive into his mouth. "I'm speaking to your betrothed." He chomped on that olive, studying me with unnerving scrutiny.
Apparently, the conversational prologue was over. Drinks were here, and now it was time for the wily and verbal game of chess, a.k.a diplomacy. I hadn't liked the way he'd said betrothed, as if the term was beneath him and its significance laughable. I reminded myself Danton had spent all morning with his father discussing this, and according to Danton, Lord Pontefract had agreed. So, despite my own misgivings, there was hope.
I folded my hands in my lap, sat tall, and looked straight at Lord Pontefract. "Yes. I would be honored to marry your son, assuming your proposal still stands."
Lord Pontefract smiled to himself—that enlightened frown again—swallowed his olive, and took another swig of his Cappor. Wood creaked as he leaned back in his chair and folded his hands upon the table. "You present a rather large problem for me, your highness, which is why I wanted to talk with you first."
"What sort of problem, my lord?" I asked.
"You see before, when I first made the offer, we weren't at war." He scratched the corner of his enlightened mouth. "If I ally Orindor to Valdon at this point in time, I am no longer simply entering an alliance, I am entering a war. And as lord of Orindor, entrusted guardian of my people's safety, surely you can understand the magnitude of this decision."
Okay, so maybe I hated diplomacy. It required too much emotional restraint. "Of course I understand the magnitude of this decision," I said, "but what I don't understand is how that's changed. Even if I'd accepted your proposal when you first made it, you'd still be in this position."
Lord Pontefract leaned forward, his eyes narrowed. "Oh, but that is where you are wrong, your highness. Everything has changed."
"Where are you going with this?" Danton cut in. "I thought you—"
"Silence," Lord Pontefract growled at his son.
Danton's jaw clenched. "I've already explained why she—"
Lord Pontefract slammed his fist on the table, rattling the ice in our glassware. "Another word, and you will leave this table at once. I've already heard everything you've had to say, and being that you can't ever see past your libido, I'd like to hear it from her."
Danton sat back in his chair, white knuckles wrapped around his glass. His anger burned hot as a blazing meteor.
Yes, this was the Lord Commodus Pontefract I knew and feared. This was the side I had always feared. This was why Danton didn't love his father. Respect? Maybe. Duty? Sure. But love? Doubtful. And I suddenly felt sorry for him. My father was gone now, but I knew without a doubt he had always loved me, and he'd always made a point to show me. Even though he was far away from me now, I still drew strength from that love, just as I had always done.
Satisfied he'd silenced Danton, Lord Pontefract set his full attention back on me. It was all I could do not to lash out and say something. I wanted to defend Danton, which surprised me, but I couldn't stand seeing anyone spoken to like that, especially when that person had been trying to defend me.
"How have things changed, Lord Pontefract?" I asked, forcing my voice to stay controlled. "And I'm not sure what you're referring to: the war, or something else?"
"Both, but allow me to explain." His tone was matter-of-fact, as if he hadn't just humiliated his son. "Before, your position was something of value, but it is not so now. Valdon is infested with shadowguard; Castle Regius is surrounded and debilitated by a weak king with even weaker progeny."
Now he was insulting my family, and my anger ignited. "Weak? He's still your king and Stefan is your prince, and you are still sworn to protect them. If Valdon is weak, then it's partly Orindor's fault for not defending it."
"And you would have me sacrifice Orindor's people for a lost cause?"
"It wouldn't be lost if you followed through with your duty to Valdon."
"Why should I?" he growled. "I've sacrificed more than my share of men to your grandfather's whims over the years, and to what end? He does nothing but protect his own land while the rest of us suffer."
"Yes, I can clearly see how much you're suffering." I gestured to the room.
Raw and volatile power simmered inside of him. "I don't expect you to understand, your highness—you, who have lived in this world less than a year. What would you know of the past?"
I clenched my teeth to keep from smarting back. It was so difficult, but I needed this. I needed his men. "You're right, my lord. I don't know what you've gone through or how Orindor has suffered beneath my grandfather's rule. But…Valdon needs you. This world needs you, and as princess, if we—"
"Princess," he sneered. "Yes, you may still be the princess of Gaia, but you are the princess of a brittle throne and you grossly overestimate your current value."
And there went my self-control. "And you grossly overestimate yours," I snapped, feeling the weight of Danton's gaze fall on me. "I know you have the unity stone. I know your brother is alive and trying to get you to side with my uncle, and I know that is the only reason why Orindor has gone unscathed so far. You're not a guardian of your people. You're only a guardian of power, and you're just waiting to see who will give you more."
The vein on Lord Pontefract's right temple protruded so much I thought it might pop. "You will not—"
I cut him off. "I also know that for some reason I can't fathom, my father trusted you. You! Of everyone in this world, he sought you out, to warn you of the evil returning to this world. That was why he'd left me in the first place and I had to come to this world without him—because he'd fled to you." I pointed a finger at his face. Lord Pontefract's gaze faltered, but he didn't speak, so I continued. "The throne is brittle, yes, and I won't pretend my grandfather is doing his best to save it, but don't delude yourself into thinking if Valdon falls, Orindor will stay free and safe. As entrusted guardian of your people, you should know better because you know my uncle, and you know firsthand how he destroyed your brother and made him what he is now."
The silence that followed was louder than anything that had been said thus far. Danton's eyes were huge as they stared at me, his thin lips pinched in a tight line. I was certain I'd done it—overstepped my boundary yet again.
"Enough." Lord Pontefract's voice was a low tremor, and I quietly awaited the blow—the words that would seal Valdon's fate once and for all. There was so much turmoil inside of him: pain and horror, pride and…fear. An exorbitant amount of fear. "We are done here. Danton, escort her highness back to her chambers."
Danton started to stand, but it was the gnawing fear inside of Lord Pontefract that forced more words out of me.
"No." I stood, placing my hands on the edge of the table while looking straight into Lord Pontefract's wintry gaze.
His features twisted with hatred, as if the very word "no" had finally unleashed some demon inside of him. "What did you say?"
"I said no. I'm not leaving this room until you listen to what I have to say."
Danton froze before his chair, his gaze sliding between his father and me. The tension in the air was noxious, palpable and frightening, as if there were an evil spirit hovering between us, waiting for Lord Pontefract's command to murder me where I stood, but I didn't care. I'd come all the way here for this, and Lord Commodus Pontefract was not dismissing me before I'd said my piece. And since Lord Pontefract seemed verbally paralyzed at the moment, I kept talking. "My uncle is a tyrant who does not share power. He uses people to accomplish his goals—just as he used your brother before and is using your wavering fidelity to bring down Castle Regius now—and then he'll discard all of you when he's through. I've only known him a few months and even I can see that. I think deep down you see it, too, which is why you haven't
chosen a side yet. You're afraid. Don't tell me you're not, because I can feel it. I am, after all, a Pandor, and although my magic is wanting, I do have that ability." I'd decided to admit to this right as the words were coming out of my mouth. Sometimes admitting part of the truth prevented people from asking more questions.
"The way I see it," I continued, "with me married to your son, the throne is salvageable. I already know Gesh and Pendel are en route to Castle Regius, but what we need is time. So, Lord Pontefract, what it boils down to is this: Which type of world do you want to live in? One ruled by fear, or one ruled by love and devotion? Because I promise you Prince Stefan will rule by the latter, just as my father would have done.
"If you honor your pledge to King Darius, I will stay here and I will be a wife to your son. I will do everything in my power to bring honor to your family and to Orindor so it will be held in the highest esteem of all the territories. I swear to you on my life. My father trusted you, Lord Pontefract, and my father didn't trust many—you know that. Where is that man? I entreat him to consider everything I've just said."
The disdain in Lord Pontefract's eyes made me certain I'd just signed my death warrant. I really couldn't trust my tongue to stay behind bars, and because of that unfortunate malady, I may have just made things worse. Worse than worse: irreparable.
Lord Pontefract drummed fingers on the table as he watched me, and when he finally spoke, his tone was even and quiet. "I'd had my doubts, but you are a Regius through and through."
I wasn't sure what this meant, and it didn't exactly sound like a compliment.
"When would you have me send my men?" he asked, watching me through narrowed eyes.
It took me a moment to process his question. He was…he agreed? After all that? Had I heard him correctly? I glanced at Danton, who looked at his father as though he'd just sprouted a second head.
I came back to my senses. "Today."
"Impossible. Two days."
"My lord, in two days—"
"Two days is hopeful, at best," he cut me off. "I expect you are not altogether familiar with what goes into preparing an army to march across the territories, and it will be nothing short of a miracle if I can manage it in two." He stopped drumming his fingers. "We should arrive in Valdon in one week's time—"
"One week?! But—"
"If you wanted my help sooner, your highness, perhaps you should've agreed to this proposal when it was first made instead of running off to the other side of the globe with your aegis."
All implications were duly felt. I swallowed. "Of course. You're right, my lord. I should've come sooner. If two days is the best you can do, then I'm grateful for that."
Lord Pontefract eyed me a moment, then snapped his fingers in the air. This time, a man who had been standing near the door approached. He was clad all in black like an assassin, and a greatsword hung from his belt. He stopped beside our table and bowed.
"My lord." The man spoke in a rich voice and waited expectantly.
"Aegis Kane, find Sir Dunmore and tell him to see me immediately."
Ah, an aegis. No wonder he was dressed like that. My thoughts went to Alex, and I made myself reel them back to the table.
"Yes, my lord. Will that be all?"
Lord Pontefract eyed me, tapping his forefinger on his narrow chin. "While you're at it, fetch Lady Pontefract and instruct her to alert the staff to start preparations for an engagement banquet tomorrow evening. I will visit her chambers in a few hours so we may discuss the details."
There was a Lady Pontefract? I mean, I knew Danton had a mother, but no one had ever mentioned her before. I wondered what sort of person she was. I'd probably find out soon enough.
"Yes, my lord," Aegis Kane said.
"Thank you, Aegis Kane. That will be all." Lord Pontefract waved his hand dismissively, and, with a bow of his head, Aegis Kane left.
The door closed and Lord Pontefract stood, placing his palms flat on the table. "Danton, escort Her Highness back to her chambers and return here with Lord Justine and Lady Isla."
"Yes, Father." Danton sounded a little mystified. He stepped behind his father and over to me.
"Come to think of it"—Lord Pontefract looked back at me—"where is Her Highness staying currently?"
"In the Garnet suite."
"You will move her to the Dragonstone suite."
"That's where Lord Justine and Lady Isla are staying."
"So move them." Lord Pontefract lifted the decanter and poured himself another glass.
Danton paused near my chair, but I interceded before he could respond. "He already tried, my lord, but I told him I'll wait until after they return to Campagna."
"That is not your decision, your highness." Lord Pontefract held up the glass to the light, gazing at the amber liquid. "Have them moved to the Amber suite immediately. The princess will be staying in the Dragonstone suite from tonight until you're wed."
I started to say something else, but Danton squeezed my shoulders as if silently urging me to keep quiet. It didn't need to be voiced that I'd gone as far as I could go.
"I'll handle it. Is there anything else?" Danton's voice was perfectly neutral, formal as he waited for further direction from his father.
Lord Pontefract took a swig from his glass then looked between us, a smile curling his thin lips. "No, I believe you have your hands full enough as it is."
7
ALEXANDER
"There is no way I'm getting in that!" Thaddeus yelled.
"Hurry!" the man yelled.
"I'd rather take my chances with the—" Another volley of darts cut him off. We dodged as darts whizzed overhead and plunked against the Ferrari's side panel before ricocheting onto the ground.
"Bloody devils!" The man had his hands over his head. "Get in or I'm leaving you here!"
"Okay, okay!" Thaddeus yelled. "But how—"
"You two jump in back!" I pointed to the two red-leather bucket seats. Vera hopped in as she winced, and Thaddeus climbed in after her. I leapt into the front passenger seat.
Vera and Thaddeus were still figuring out where to put their legs when the man yelled, "Stay low and hold on!" He pressed a button on the dash, the trunk opened, and a roof rose from it.
"Gah!" Thaddeus shrieked, folding his hands over his head. "This thing is trying to eat me!"
The closest Mort was about ten yards away.
Five yards…four yards…
The roof clicked shut, our driver stepped on the clutch, put the car in gear, and floored the gas.
More darts. More ricocheting.
"Hellfire!" Thaddeus said. "Knock it off!"
Two yards. The Mort in front lifted an axe over his head…
"Hurry!" I yelled.
"I know!" the man yelled back. Wheels squealed upon the slick cobblestone, the axe came down, and we sped off. The axe hit the cobblestones with a clank, emitting a spark. A few Morts skidded to a stop beside axe man, glaring after us, but then the loud blare of sirens broke their attention and they scattered.
"Drago Campinelli," the man shouted over the revving engine, tapping the paddleshifter on the steering wheel.
"Alexander Del Conte," I said, looking back at the road.
"Pleasure."
"Perfect timing," I added.
"Always." Drago jerked the car around a sharp corner and almost took out a couple of pedestrians. Then a foot kicked me in the head.
"Sorry," Thaddeus said. "There's not exactly any room back here…"
"Sorry about that," Drago said, expertly navigating through the narrow streets and sharp turns of Rome. "I don't usually get so much company at once."
I looked over my shoulder to find Thaddeus and Vera with their legs in each other's laps. "How's your ankle?" I asked Vera.
"Fine," she clipped.
Thaddeus grabbed her foot and moved it, and Vera cried out. And then she kicked Thaddeus in the face with her other foot.
"Hey!" Thaddeus ducked, then his head rammed into my hea
drest, and I was instantly thrown against the dash as Drago slammed on the brakes, narrowly avoiding a taxi running a red light. I flattened my palms on the dash, bracing myself, while heavy thuds and sharp curses erupted behind me.
Drago rolled down his window and yelled something in Italian, holding his fist out the window at the taxi. He was still yelling as he peeled through the intersection. And then, in a light, conversational tone, he asked, "Who are your friends?"
I pulled one hand from the dash and settled back in my seat. "Aegises Thaddeus Mendax and Veranna Neci."
"Nice to meet you," Drago said, then jerked the car right, speeding over a bridge.
"What is this…thing?" Thaddeus asked, hunched over in the backseat and rubbing his head.
Drago beamed like a proud parent. "This is a Ferrari." He rolled his Rs when he said it, stroking the dash as one might stroke a cat. The engine purred in response.
"Yeah…that doesn't tell me anything," Thaddeus murmured. "And is there a reason we're going so"—Drago sped over a bump and we all bounced out of our seats; Thaddeus and Vera hit their heads on the roof—"ow!—fast?"
"Making sure we're not followed," Drago said, checking his side-mirror.
"Followed?!" Thaddeus gasped. "Who in Gaia's name could follow us in this thing?"
"Ferrari," Drago corrected.
"Drago, did you know there were Morts on this side of the portal?" I asked.
"No, but—" Drago's eyes squinted in his side-mirror, and then I noticed lights in mine, weaving in and out of traffic—fast. Drago frowned. "Hang on," he said, shifting gears.
The high-pitched whine of bikes was undeniable now. They hopped up on sidewalks, blazing past pedestrians, who frantically moved out of the way. Drago maneuvered through the streets, on sidewalks and down alleyways, weaving through traffic and triple-parked cars. I braced my hands on the door and dash, certain we were going to die.
More sirens wailed in the distance.
Thaddeus yelped. "That noise! What is that noise?"
"Polizia." Drago raced down a long stretch of cobblestone. Cars and people and buildings blurred past.
Heir of Pendel (A Pandoran Novel, #4) Page 8
