Dark Court: The Summons

by Camille Oster

  Chapter 12:

  * * *

  The coolness of the marble under Ashra's feet soaked through the slim soles of her slippers as she paced around the apartment, her eyes on the gray mountains in the distance. If everything could just be as calm as the scenery in front of her. That wasn't the case, though. Life within the citadel was a moving target and Lorcan had made his first move—a warning if anything else.

  The offer was ludicrous. He couldn't seriously expect her to agree to it, but then perhaps a really weak person would—someone who couldn't tolerate the uncertainty and pressure of this court. Did Lorcan enjoy this environment? He seemed so attuned to it, like a predator.

  With his move made, it was now her turn. She had to do something. The alternative was to sit back and wait for Lorcan, or whoever else, to make the next move. That would put her increasingly in a weak position, and that was what she needed to strengthen—her position. But how? And with whom?

  Over her dead body would she trust anyone in this place, and that included whoever she aligned herself with. The one thing she could trust was self-interest, and whatever she ended up doing, she had to invoke it.

  Her mind searched over the parties, trying to determine who would make a good partner to approach for an alliance. Obviously not Lorcan. She would basically be handing over the keys to her mansion if she tried to agree to anything with him. His price had already been stipulated—everything.

  That the person she approached wouldn't do the same was a risk, but being too scared to move would probably be a worse alternative. Risk had to be taken.

  Walking to her desk, she picked up her quill and wrote a note. A pull of the rope hanging down informed the pages she required them. A quiet knock on the door soon followed.

  "Please deliver this to Lord Wierstoke," she said and the young man nodded, quickly moving away to do her bidding. No doubt, the pages had less than a pleasant time here. She felt sorry for them, but at least they were not in the firing line for this sick game played here.

  It was time to get ready for the day's amusement, which was held to the east of the citadel, a race of the finest Abraxan horses in the liege's stable. It would be outside, so she had to dress warmly against the bitter wind rushing over the plains, ready to cut into anyone who didn't guard against it.

  Attending the amusements were compulsory, only the very ill excusing themselves. For the most part, even the ill showed up. Things shifted quickly within court politics and few wanted their absence to weaken their positions. So another day at court had to be suffered by all.

  She would bring Tabain for a while, simply to enjoy the spectacle, but then he would return with his nursemaid to stay warm in the apartment. He was dressed warmly when he was led to her, dressed in a warm leather coat, his small hands in sheepskin mittens. His eyes were shining with excitement and all morning he'd been mentioning horses.

  "Are you ready?" she asked.

  "Yeah, yeah," he responded and Ashra took his hand as they left their apartments. Hopefully, she would find someone to follow before she got dreadfully lost.

  Her prayer was answered with a familiar blond head in the distance, walking along next to his wife. They were both dressed in black, bulky clothes. Ashra didn't rush to join them, but followed their lead at a distance, which lead through endless spaces—corridors, courtyards, grand staircases, until they reached an entranceway leading to a cobblestone courtyard and rampart. It led down through a stone gate to the valley below the citadel.

  The racecourse had been prepared to a huge scale, seating stretching up along its perimeter. A stand had also been erected for the spectators, who seemed to have come from far and wide. It was much more than simply the courtiers here.

  A structure for Raufasger had been built in the center, where he could sit and enjoy the races, and well as look over his court below him, who were all gathered in a special enclosure.

  As Ashra moved closer, she could see that only his most favored was allowed to dwell with him on his platform, and that included the Lorcans, who were being served steaming drinks while they waited for the racing to start.

  She found some seats near the barrier amongst the throng of people. Tabain stood on his chair and tried to see the horses. He couldn't hide his excitement when it started, jumping up and down, so Ashra had to take hold of his arm in case he fell. The horses, with their golden, shimmering coats set off with pounding hooves and straining muscles, fear and excitement flashing in their eyes. It had a sheer brutality to it that made Ashra's heart pound with unease.

  Half way around the track, the skill and quality of the horses began to tease out the winners from the losers. Tabain loved seeing them run. "Horses, horses," he said, his eyes intently following them. Their grace and power was undeniable.

  *

  After two races, Tabain had to return to the apartments for a nap and Ashra kissed him goodbye before turning her mind to the business at hand—the business of being a part of this court—of scheming.

  She nodded to Fiedra as she walked past, who was wearing black fur from head to toe, the skin of her face white and creamy in contrast. But Ashra was not here to talk to Fiedra; she had business to conduct.

  Her target stood with a group of men—Lord Wierstoke. He wore brown hide over his considerable bulk. Sable and gold thread embroidery lined his collar, showing his wealth. From what she'd observed, he was a congenial man in the first instance, but hid a shrewd mind underneath.

  "Lady Greve," he said. "I was wondering if I would see you today. I received the note you sent and am curious as to how I can be of assistance."

  The others melted away, feeling their dismissal. Wierstoke was rich and powerful enough to dismiss people, except the liege himself. Shrewd investments only made him wealthier, and that was what she was counting on.

  "I am honored you are willing to meet with me here," she stated.

  "The pleasure is all mine. Would you like a hot toddy?"

  "That would be very nice." It was a courtesy, but he waited for her proposal. Snapping at a servant, he ordered a drink to be prepared for her. "I came to speak to you about resources I have access to."

  "Your lands?" he said with surprise.

  "More the forestry assets I have on top of my lands."

  His mouth pursed as he considered her. There was no judgement, just calculation. This man knew how the court worked and he knew investments.

  "I do understand your late husband made some considerable investment in his forests. They will pay off handsomely when it comes time to harvest." He was curious now.

  "I am offering you an option on that resource."

  She could see his mind working behind his eyes. "Are you in need of money, then?" Raising her eyebrows, she conveyed her disappointment and Wierstoke smiled. "If I take your trees, my dear Lady Greve, I have a vested interest in keeping you on your land. It is an alliance you are proposing, for your protection."

  "I suppose you could say it is an alliance I am purchasing, for your economic benefit."

  "Forestry assets can be gained elsewhere, of course, but you have a considerable asset. For an alliance, however, you must then sell them at a price that appeals to me."

  "I am sure we can reach a fair price in consideration of included benefits."

  He watched her for a moment longer. "Fifteen thousand sovereigns per acre," he finally said.

  Ashra looked unimpressed. "I'm not going to give it away."

  "I am the strongest alliance you could find, my dear. None, except our venerable liege, has the resources I have at my disposal."

  "I know your words are true, but I may simply need strong and not the strongest. There are others I could make this proposal to."

  He smiled now. "Then what do you suggest?"

  "Thirty thousand per acre."

  Wierstoke jerked his head dismissively. "My dear Lady Greve, surely you must realize the position you are in here. You're at the center of this court's current focus." It was awful having that susp
icion confirmed, but there had been plenty of hints.

  "Which means I must trade these trees with someone. I will keep your offer in mind," she said, preparing to walk away. What she'd said was a lie. She was fairly certain she was not in a position to make a less powerful alliance, but it would not serve her for Wierstoke to see her as weak and inconsequential either. Walking away was a risk she had to take, but she was depending on his greed. One did not become so rich as him without a fair deal of it.

  "Twenty three is my final offer," he said.

  "Twenty five."

  He snorted. "You can certainly get twenty five elsewhere, but will you get someone who is strong enough to protect your land? This investment comes at considerable risk to whomever takes it on. If someone takes your land off you, they are hardly going to honor this agreement."

  "True, it does require an alliance strong enough, and the party will be considerably rewarded for it. Do not all investments have risk, my lord? I understand that is how the risk/reward principle works. Besides, I think there are some who would agree just to deny you," she said. "And they will make sport of you for the next decade."

  Now he laughed, an unguarded guttural rumble. "If anyone says you are not well suited for this game, Lady Greve, they are very much mistaken. You have your alliance."

  "Thank you, Lord Wierstoke. It is one what will suit us both, I anticipate."

  "Well, don't play fast and loose with my trees."

  "I will do my very best to keep them intact for you."

  "See that you do."

  In truth, Wierstoke's clout would do much of that job for her. Not even Lorcan could take on Wierstoke in a head-on fight—economically speaking. Only the interference of the liege himself would tear everything down, and that was always a possibility, but she was stronger now than she had been that morning. And that was the first bit of good news she'd had since she'd arrived.

  Chapter 13:

  * * *

  The liege's second favorite great hall was filling with people fast. It was a typical evening with the court gathering, a dinner to follow. The cavernous space was filled with the murmur of people plotting and scheming.

  Raufasger had taken his seat and was currently providing an audience to the people he'd agreed to hear. It was mostly dry and personal grievances, so few actually listened unless something important was being discussed, or if one in their midst was being reprimanded. The sound of a pin dropping would echo off the silk clad walls in that case. Raufasger did, however, insist they serve as an audience, even for the driest of pleading, with their large eyes, sorrowful looks and emphatic beseeching. The liege seemed to revel in it and attendance was mandatory.

  Ashra had dressed in an emerald green gown, a new one she'd ordered. She hated them, the gowns with their satin and lace, and other pointless finery, but it was expected. The parade was important, even if she determined it to be vacant. Wealth had to be shown—proved on the surface, because that was part of the game.

  The underlying truth was that superficial wealth didn't overrule true wealth, but appearances meant something. Still, power was a multi-faceted creature, and Ashra felt she didn't have a good take on it yet.

  Holding a glass of champagne, Ashra walked the length of the hall and noted the people present and who was talking to whom. Like her, everyone here was watching for where their next attack would come from.

  "Cunning move," someone said close to her ear and she turned to see Lorcan looking down at her. Straight back and head held high, he considered her. As usual, he was dressed in black, an exquisitely tailored suit, black, silk brocade along the front of the jacket.

  He must have found out about her alliance with Wierstoke. She could pretend she didn't know what he was talking about, but what was the point? "Just a little business transaction."

  "Do you think yourself protected?" the question asked in his crisp drawl made her doubt herself. She hated that he could so easily do that to her. "Let's not insult each other's intelligence by pretending this was a business transaction. Through it, you have managed to insulate yourself. I wonder what it cost you to achieve that. It will hurt you in the long run." That was true as she wasn't going to get the full profit from her forestry assets, but lower profits were better than losing one's land. "You have, of course, aligned your fortunes with the Wierstoke family."

  In no way did she think herself protected, but for now she was protected from Lorcan and anyone who sought to strong arm her land away from her. "Lord Wierstoke naturally will seek to assure his trees are there when it comes time to harvest."

  "Provided no one fells him," Roisen warned sharply.

  "Do you think anyone is strong enough to?" From her own assessment, the answer was no, which was why she'd picked this course of action. But he knew this court and its machinations much better than her. For all intents and purposes, she was a novice at this, and that had her worried. Would she be able to tell before too late if she put a foot wrong?

  He considered her for a minute, his face impassive. "Things change quickly here. Men fall out of favor—women, too. We are all subject to the whims of the liege." Lorcan said that as if he knew something she didn't and she hated the doubts he generated in her, as was probably his purpose in speaking to her.

  The memory of seeing the Lorcans in the liege's personal platform at the races the

  other day returned to her. Was he making a threat? Did he have something planned? The liege was the wild card she could not control, but could Lady Lorcan, who was apparently one of his favorites? "Your wife seems to be settling into court life."

  "She does tend to thrive here."

  Ashra didn't know the story of why she was sent away, but a darkness had clouded over Lorcan's eyes as he sought out the turned back of his wife, speaking to a group not far away. She wore a red dress, silk with black embellishments. It had a sheen to it whenever she moved.

  "Not everyone does," he said, returning his attention to Ashra. She felt his gaze on her, felt it almost like a touch. Was he referring to her? Perhaps he had surmised that she wanted to be anywhere else but here. Or was he referring to someone else? "In fact, this place grates on some. The lonely halls and challenging disposition. It's not for everyone."

  "Luckily, having a good alliance helps immensely."

  "Take care to ensure nothing happens to it."

  "I will try my absolute best."

  He watched her for a moment as if he was still making up his mind about her.

  "Lady Greve," Amethyst's saccharine voice said and Ashra turned to see both Amethyst and Fiedra, walking arm in arm as if they were strolling through a field of flowers.

  "Don't you look stunning tonight? New gown?" Fiedra asked. "I don't think I've seen you in that before."

  "No, just arrived from the estate along with some of my other things," Ashra lied, but she wasn't entirely sure why. There had just appeared to be some sort of weakness in admitting she knew she needed to try harder to keep up with the fashions at court. Any kind of stress seemed to be attributed to weakness, but she wasn't happy about lying. "No, maybe you're right. This might be one of the new ones," she said, looking down as if trying to determine.

  "I thought I saw that material presented by one of the dressmakers the other day," Fiedra said.

  "Could be the very one," Ashra admitted. That lie that she had almost slipped in disturbed her. Perhaps the urge was so strong because she knew they were trying to find things to use against her.

  "We always need good armor, don't we?" Amethyst said conspiratorially. "It always makes me happy to have a gorgeous new gown. Makes you feel it's more bearable when things go against you."

  Ashra raised her eyebrows.

  "Those pesky rumors that are spreading about your son. So thoughtless." The sympathy in her voice wasn't exactly sincere, and her eyes were searching for distress in Ashra's features.

  With a lazy wave of her hand, Ashra dismissed it. "What is there to worry about with such rumors?"

  "And
if people start believing them? Things wouldn't go so well for you," Fiedra said, giving Amethyst a meaningful look.

  "It is simply a matter of a little spell to put things right. These things the magicians can prove beyond a doubt very easily," Ashra said with a smile.

  Amethyst didn't react for a moment, just stared at her.

  "Surely paternity isn't a new concept?" Ashra continued. "Settling such conclusions can be carried out without much fuss." She took a sip of her champagne.

  "And you know this magic?"

  "I understand some of the court magicians do. If it ever needs to be proven, it is a simple matter." Ashra smiled. Actually, according to Mr. Liesdal, it wasn't a simple spell, but these two vipers in front of her didn't need to know that.

  "Isn't that lucky," Fiedra said, now looking awkward. "I think I must see if there are some refreshments." She floated away.

  Amethyst didn't look quite as happy to give up on the assault and now surveyed her with more intensity than her husband had. "Not sure that's true." She really wasn't giving up, probably suspecting Ashra was bluffing.

  Ashra shrugged. "I guess if it ever comes down to it, I will just have to prove you wrong." She'd just skirted attributing blame for the rumor, which was a bit of a pot shot of her own. Stirring trouble was fine, but stirring trouble and it being utterly apparent was not—especially if she was then proven wrong.

  The grudging retreat was apparent in Amethyst's eyes, as was now hatred. The downside of standing up to bullies was that they didn't take it well, but there was no putting one's head in the sand here and hoping people like Amethyst would go away. Roisen had basically stated that she thrived in this environment. There would definitely be other shots coming from this woman.