Dark Court: The Summons

by Camille Oster

  She only had so long before he would return and she quickly snuck through the door. It was black inside, but she saw a lantern on a desk. Stacks of paper were jumbled everywhere, not looking much different from Mr. Liesdal's messy apartment. There was a musty smell and narrow corridors of stacked paper leading down into darkness. How in the world was she going to find anything in here? It would take ages. Whoever this man was in charge of the archives, he didn't have a very good system.

  It took some time, but she did find a system, after all. The citadel papers were in the front, kitchen accounts, building accounts etc. The military records pertaining to the liege's army beyond that. Toward the very back of the archives were boxes for the courtiers. Fortunately, they were clearly labelled.

  Ashra didn't know where to start. Searching, she found the box belonging to the Greve household. In there, were stacks of papers. There were observations made by someone, keeping track of the things related to the house and Torunn's movements to and away from the citadel. There was also a list of the properties and assets belonging to the Greve estate. It wasn't overly detailed, just main observations. There was also a mention of a perceived alliance between the Greves and the Lorcans, pertaining more to a non-aggression treatise, it had said. That obviously didn't stick, she thought bitterly. Her more recent alliance with Wierstoke was also recorded. She was being tracked just like Torunn had been. Fortunately, no mention of a pregnancy. They didn't know that, it seemed.

  There was also a page on his death, suspecting poison. It didn't state who the observer thought was responsible, only that it was unexpected. That must mean that it wasn't on Raufasger's orders.

  There was nothing else useful. Putting everything back, she sought the Lorcan box. She wanted to spend more attention on this one, but she didn't have time. The guard would be back soon and she would have a hard time explaining why she was coming out of the archives. Focusing, she found the document which tracked Lorcan's movements, to see if there was anything recorded for the day Torunn had been attacked.

  The answer shocked her. It said Lorcan had been south, dealing with the peasant uprising. What? That couldn't be right. Lorcan wasn't there. He had left a full two weeks before Torunn was murdered. Astounded, Ashra sat back on her haunches. He wasn't the murderer. Someone else was.

  Chapter 27:

  * * *

  Lorcan wasn't the murderer, but someone here was. And what was this alliance between their houses? It was obviously something he hadn't tried to preserve—unless their intimacy had been some way of establishing relations. He did, after all, have expectations of her loyalty, it seemed. She didn't know where she stood with him or what his real intentions were.

  Thoughts jumbled through her head. None of them seemed to stay long enough for her to think things through. That was what she needed right now, a chance to think, but Raufasger had planned something by a pond somewhere, something else inane that they all had to comply with.

  Feeling too raw and unready, she forced herself to dress and seek the place where the afternoon's entertainment was supposed to be. She dressed in white. There was a preference for lighter colors for these activities that were supposed to be innocent, like tea parties and picnics by the pond, or whatever it was.

  Even some of the men wore white. Not all, of course. Lorcan did not, wearing gray again, like dark, ominous clouds. Undoubtedly, he had nothing but dark colors in his wardrobe.

  Along with his clothes, his face was solemn and serious as he walked through the gathered party. His blond hair was tied back neatly and he was heading somewhere, but Ashra didn't know to what.

  Other couples had taken to boats which glided across the still, deep green water. This pond was new to Ashra. It was a lovely spot and she might return here again. No doubt it wasn't natural, being strangely elevated for the natural lay of the land.

  Shifting his head, Lorcan spotted her, his eyes unreadable, but he didn't stop or in any way acknowledge her. She never knew what she would get with him. At times they were allies, at times enemies—at times lovers. Mere hours ago, she was ready to relegate all badness in this court to him, but he was innocent of this charge. Never innocent, but he wasn't culpable—or at least here when it had happened.

  At one point, he'd assured her that he didn't know who was responsible. Perhaps he didn't. Still, the accusation had been laid quite clearly at the House of Lorcan. It could be a false accusation, but she couldn't find a gain for sharing it. There was no immediate gain for Dowager Trewegen that Ashra could see and that made Ashra suspicious that it might be true.

  As for the Greve-Lorcan alliance, perhaps it seems illogical that Lorcan would lose that willingly. He had recovered fairly well, still in one of the strongest positions out of everyone here. It was especially important for him to be in Raufasger's good esteem because of it. Amethyst certainly seemed to have his favor.

  Turning her gaze, she sought the woman in question, who had on a light blue gown, looking much too innocent for the personality contained within it. In fact, she looked haughty and arrogant to Ashra. Sharp eyes roamed the crowd as if she was looking for her next victim. The woman played stupid, insipid games—games of one-upmanship, social exclusion and cutting remarks.

  It wasn't real power around here, more flashy distractions, but plenty of people were petrified getting caught by it. The viciousness was without equal, but the harm was more or less superficial. At one point, Ashra had almost succumbed to it and the fear of being targeted.

  Could the woman have been responsible? Why would she have done it? It went against the benefit of her own house. At no point had she come across anything gained for the House of Lorcan because of Torunn's death.

  A small piece of information sat on her analysis board and it bothered her. Amethyst and Torunn had danced together at the Victory Ball the night Torunn had died. Why? Why would they dance together? It was an innocuous little fact, but it stuck in her mind. Of course, Torunn would dance at a ball, but why with her?

  Shame washed over her as she acknowledged she had wondered if there had been an affair between them. Never had anything like that occurred to her before now, but she had to wonder. Was that the reason he had ended up dead? Had Lorcan found out and acted? No he wasn't here. But try as she might—and she'd spoken to everyone she could—she found no other reason. Someone always knew when a person was targeted and it leaked out, but no one seemed to be making a move on the Greve house. With Amethyst though, a certain vicious streak had been observed with her former lovers.

  Grief and discomfort burned red on Ashra's cheeks. Had the husband she had loved and adored been unfaithful? She was better off not knowing if that were true, but if it had resulted in his death, she had to know.

  No, Amethyst would have flaunted the fact if it had been true, Ashra told herself. She wouldn't have been able to stop herself from using that as a spear to cause pain. Her lovers were out in the open and the woman took pleasure in taking men from others. Murder might be a stretch, though.

  Looking back at Lorcan, she saw him speaking to a group of men. He would know if there was anything between Torunn and Amethyst. It seemed utterly unconvincing to think Roisen didn't keep tabs on his wife while he was away. He might not care what the woman did, but completely ignoring her activities would be careless, as she tended to upset anyone she wanted to.

  *

  Ashra watched as Roisen retreated to his apartments after the dinner that night. They'd eaten in a mirrored room, which had made it easy to keep track of people. That might have been the purpose of that hall, to see what people were doing behind your back.

  Amethyst had been flirting that evening, with some young man that Ashra didn't know, a woman visibly upset by it. Ashra had to wonder if Amethyst chose her lovers according to the most pain and disruption it would cause. She was a despicable creature and she almost felt sorry for Lorcan for being married to her. According to his own telling, the bargain had been worth the later pain of the marriage, something Ashra simpl
y couldn't agree with.

  On later hearing, it is said that land she had brought was not massive, but strategically located. Amethyst had come with wealth and connections, and a piece of land neighboring a much larger estate. Lorcan had taken that land and leveraged a takeover of the neighbor’s large estate. It was an ingenious move which had cemented his position in this court as one of the most powerful. The marriage had given him the leverage he needed.

  Rising from her seat, Ashra decided to retire as well, nodding goodbye to her dinner companions. Lorcan was nowhere to be seen as she exited the hall to the corridor lit by candles every few feet. It made for a long walk back through darkened shadows and still spaces.

  Instead of going home, she detoured to Lorcan's apartments, knocking on the door after pausing to consider if she really wanted to do this. He opened the door, looking more casual without his jacket. The surprise on his face was clear.

  "Lady Greve. To what do I owe this pleasure, or are you accustomed to seeking gentlemen's apartments in the middle of the night? If so, do come in."

  Ashra didn't move, just watched him. "You told me you didn't know who killed my husband."

  His expression didn't change, but seemed frozen for a while. "Not the typical start to an assignation."

  "I'm not here for an assignation," she said, her cheeks flaring red, because who could blame him for thinking so when he seemed to have his way with her when he felt like it.

  "Shame," he said, stepping back from the door. "Well, if you wish to speak to me, you will have to enter the viper's den."

  "Are you referring to yourself or your wife?"

  The comment seemed to take him by surprise and he considered her for a moment. "Are we coming with knives to sink into my flesh tonight, or is it my wife you seek to harm?"

  "I only want answers."

  "It sounds more like you are demanding them. Whiskey?"

  "No, thank you."

  Walking over to a table, he picked up a glass of amber liquid and brought it to his lips, watching her as he drank. "You obviously have something on your mind, so ask away. I may not answer, but you can always try."

  "To your knowledge, was your wife having an affair with my husband?"

  "Feeling a little injured?" he said with a raised eyebrow.

  "Is that a yes?"

  After a while, Lorcan shrugged. "I don't care what Amethyst does with her time."

  "I don't believe you."

  "You think I hold some resentment for what she does? Ours is not the marriage where there is any love lost between us. I thought we discussed this shortly before you availed yourself to me."

  Ashra refused to be distracted by the accusation—whatever it was. "No, I think you keep tabs on what she does. I would if I were you."

  "Would you now? Are you thinking you should have kept tabs on your husband?"

  "Please just answer the question," Ashra said, feeling her composure threatened. Right now, she didn't want to be here sparring with him. This was more important than that. "I misspoke when I said someone had accused you of murdering my husband. In fact, they said the House of Lorcan was responsible and from what I can see there are two people in that household. You were away."

  "My, Lady Greve. I think you have been snooping."

  "Which leaves one member unaccounted for."

  Roisen's expression hardened. "You better be very careful what you say here," he warned.

  Anger flared in Ashra. "You mean something along the lines of that bitch of a wife of yours murdered my husband," she said harshly. "Should I be careful about that? Do you expect me to cower?" Rage coursed through her now, directed at him for trying to warn her off. What was she supposed to do, look the other way? He really didn't know her if he thought that.

  Roisen didn't move, didn't change his expression or in any way respond to her venting. Finally, he did, putting the glass of whiskey down on the table. "Amethyst's protection doesn't really come from me. Trust me, I would have killed the bitch by now if I could get away with it," he said. "But power is power, and she, for all her faults, has her unique brand of it."

  Ashra closed her eyes. It was nothing short of an admission. That awful creature had killed her husband. "Was there an affair between them?"

  Roisen's sigh reached her ears, but she still refused to open her eyes, not wanting him to see the hurt that the answer would cause.

  "From what I understand, Greve refused her advances, had done so on numerous occasions. She had quite a little obsession over him, fed by the fact that he was categorically uninterested."

  Tears welled in her eyes, feeling her trust in Torunn being vindicated.

  "Don't be so relieved," he said. She could hear the amusement in his voice. "He was no saint, but he wasn't stupid enough to go anywhere near Amethyst."

  Unlike you, she felt like snapping out of hurt at what he was saying. "I don't believe you."

  "That he was too smart to bed Amethyst?"

  "Don't be facetious. How can I believe anything you say? You told me you didn't know who killed Torunn. You flat-out lied. Why would you do that?"

  Roisen grinned and chuckled. "Because it served me to do so." He shifted in his chair, seemingly making himself more comfortable. "You may believe as you wish. That is your prerogative."

  "There will be consequences for her," Ashra stated. "I won't just stand by and let her get away with it."

  "Then I would tread carefully if I were you. You will either upset me, as materially anything you do to my house impacts me, and I won't take that lightly. Or worse, you'll upset Raufasger. Either way, you will end up losing. Neither of us will serve you well as an enemy."

  Ashra didn't quite know how to respond. She was practically telling him she was gunning for his wife, and he was right that he would be impacted by it. Still, she would get justice for this, and he might try to stop her. Fair warning on both sides, she supposed.

  Chapter 28:

  * * *

  Ashra couldn't sleep that night. Her conversation with Roisen kept running through her head, particularly the accusation that Torunn hadn't been a saint. What exactly had he meant? That Torunn hadn't been loyal? That he'd had lovers here at court—except Amethyst, who he had apparently been too smart to go near?

  It hurt her heart to think so, to think that the marriage wasn't as she had thought it had been. This kept her tossing and turning all night, and by morning, she felt weak and dull, having to order a strong cup of coffee for her breakfast.

  The weather never seemed to stray too much from windy and gray out her window. Clouds shifted across the valley, creating a shifting play of shadows and light. Everything shifted and nothing stood still. Eventually everything she held dear was ripped out of her hands. Her marriage was something she had unreservedly believed in, that they had loved each other and that they had been a team.

  Lorcan had tried to destroy that. What was his purpose in doing so? She turned her thoughts to him and his motivation for telling her. Most importantly, was it even true? He'd proven quite clearly that he lied when it suited him. Did it suit him now to lie to her about Torunn?

  There had been a time, after all, during the masquerade, when he’d purportedly let his guard down, when he'd stated how curious, and even jealous, he'd been for Torunn’s attention so completely absorbed into his marriage. That didn't sound like a philandering man.

  No, she could choose to believe what she knew in her gut and in her heart—that Torunn had loved her and she had loved him. There might have been a time when he was younger when he'd been playing the games others seemed to here, but she trusted what she knew and what she felt.

  Lorcan was lying and was trying to shake her. Perhaps because she had discovered that his murderous wife had blood on her hands, and that she needed to be dealt with. Could it be that Lorcan was moving to protect her and was stirring trouble and doubt?

  She wouldn't put it past him. He had condemned himself with his own record.

  Unable to eat much with her m
orning sickness, she paced around the apartment, trying to get some order to her racing thoughts. Lorcan had tried to deceive her, and even if his accusation was true, he was still trying to hurt her. There was no reason for him to deliver such a message otherwise.

  It was time to hit back. It was time to act, time to seek some justice for the death of her husband.

  Beseeching Raufasger directly was unlikely to be successful, particularly as he seemed to have some kind of soft spot for Amethyst. Lorcan had confirmed that on numerous occasions. It would be a tactic that had intolerable risks if it all turned around on her. No, the best way to do this would be to make a move, a grab on his domain.

  Lorcan would be absolutely furious and he would fight, and declaring war with him wasn't something she took lightly. He yielded power, but so did her alliance. Her need for justice was something he was aware of, and he even understood it, on some level.

  Even though he'd lied to her, it wasn't him that she needed atonement from. Atonement was probably too ambitious to hope for, but she needed Amethyst to be impacted. Frankly, to be hurt. Well, maybe someone like her didn't hurt exactly. Humiliation was probably what she feared the most. Ashra, however, was not prepared to play parlor games like her opponent did, with cutting remarks and disdainful looks; she wanted something more substantial.

  What she did need now was to talk to her alliance.

  *

  There were troubadours for entertainment that night, in inauguration of yet another new building Raufasger had added to the citadel. For some reason, the endless structures he'd already built weren't enough; he relentlessly felt the need to expand, even when they already had too much to ever be useful.

  The room was pretty, though, no expense spared, long velvet curtains, commissioned paintings and fine wooden floors. The troubadours performed their act in the center of the very large room.