“I don’t want to win this way,” Arrago says quietly.
“I think it’s important we discuss why you want to turn Arrago into someone he isn’t,” Sir Eli says, spitting hay out of his mouth.
Bethany stares down at him. “Wait. How are you still talking?”
“You can’t kill me. I will lie here in your dreams for all of eternity until you face that you changed Arrago into your own image. You destroyed his innocence and kindness, and replaced it with the casual brutality that defines you.”
“That isn’t true!” Bethany says. She gives Arrago a pleading look, but he’s already turned away from her.
“Arrago?” Bethany whispers.
“It’s too late. The resentment is already there. He will hate you for what you’ve made him do this day. In time, he will despise the very mention of your name. His extended life will cause that resentment to fester, to grow, to infect, and soon, my dear, he will loathe the sight of you. Giving you Arrago for eternity was not a blessing from Apexia. It was your final punishment.”
While she stumbles to find a rebuttal, Arrago appears in front of her. His face is expressionless. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t smile. He simply stares. Almost casually, thrusts a sword through her guts.
Bethany bolted up in bed, her heart pounding so hard her vision was blurred. She gasped for air as she ran her hands along her body to ensure she was intact. She fumbled for the dirk she’d placed on the night-side table, desperate for its protection.
However, she knocked the dirk over, along with the unlit candle. The candleholder hit the wall, and the dirk clattered on the wooden floor.
“Bethany?” Arrago asked woozily.
She ignored him. She tumbled out of bed, her bare ass hitting the cold floor. She grabbed the dirk and gasped for breath. The cold leather against her hand was an odd comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. It reminded her she could protect herself, just until the strange moment between dream and reality passed.
“Bethany,” Arrago repeated, his voice filled with concern. “What’s wrong? Come back to bed.”
She still couldn’t speak, so she ignored him. She needed to sort out the real memories and the dream torture. Bethany grabbed her filthy, discarded tunic from the floor and pressed it against her naked body. It smelled awful, which helped awaken her senses.
Arrago flung back the blankets and padded around the bed to squat down next to her. She clutched the dirk and tunic tighter. “My love. You’re safe.”
A sobbing gasp escaped Bethany as the world came rushing back. Of course, Arrago hadn’t stabbed her. Of course, Sir Eli never said those things. She was safe.
Bethany kept repeating that as Arrago gently pulled the dirk from her hand, then the dirty tunic. He wrapped his own naked body around hers and pulled her tightly to him. He didn’t ask what her dream was about. He didn’t demand details to refute them. Instead, he simply tugged her closer, and rocked her. He whispered how loved she was, how proud he was of her, and how happy he was to have her here with him.
Eventually, Bethany’s heart stopped trying to rip out of her body and she gathered herself together enough to give Arrago a weak smile. She’d never had one of her nightmares around him before and she worried what he’d say. Would he judge her? Would he think she was weak? Would he laugh at her? Would it worry him?
He cupped her face. “Bad dream?”
She nodded.
He offered her a small smile. “You’re safe now.”
She nodded again, this time giving him her own small smile. “Sorry.”
He hugged her once more. “Don’t you dare apologize. Do you want to talk about...”
“No,” she said harshly. “I don’t talk about it.”
“You should,” he said gently. He ran his fingers up and down her arm. A chill went through her. “I love you, Bethany. There’s nothing you can’t tell me.”
“I can’t...not right now. Please.”
“I didn’t mean right now, silly,” he said, grinning at her. “Now, come back to bed.”
“It’s getting light out,” Bethany protested.
“It’s like this most of the night this time of the year.”
“Oh. Right. I forgot.”
He stood up and offered his hand. She couldn’t look up at him without laughing. When he realized his flaccidness was basically waving itself in her face, Arrago wiggled his hips a little, eliciting a roaring laugh from Bethany. He kept doing it, moving closer to her, his hands now on his hips. Bethany fell over, peals of laughter escaping her until she choked for breath.
Satisfied that he’d made her laugh, Arrago crawled back into bed. He patted her side and said, “Get up here, or I’m coming back down there again. And leave that blasted sword out of arm’s reach.”
“You’re not the boss of me,” she said sullenly, but it was ruined by the corners of her mouth tugging upward. With a sigh, she tossed the dirk on a nearby chair and crawled back into bed. “Happy?”
Arrago scooped in behind her and hugged her tightly. “I’ve missed you.”
“Can I tell you something?” Bethany asked.
He kissed her ear tip. “Always.”
“It feels like I’m home.”
“That’s because you are. Have you thought any...about...?”
“Yes.”
Arrago pushed himself up to look down at her. “Is that a yes, you’ve thought about it, or...a yes.”
“I don’t know yet,” Bethany said, smiling. “Maybe?”
“Maybe? I waited a year for maybe.”
She shrugged. “Maybe is better than no.”
He grabbed her ribs and tickled until she squealed and kicked him. “Maybe? Oh, you are going to pay for that one.”
****
Arrago gleefully watched the group of friends argue about the best course of action for the coming days. Lendra, the Dowager, and Her Grace had all arrived, bringing with them new opinions, new plans, and fresh-faced knights. Lord Stanley and Lord Rayner were added into the mix, and they were not used to being shouted down by both elves and women.
He let them argue. He’d already decided the best course of action earlier that morning with Bethany. He could still smell her skin, and the gentle softness of her touch. Bethany would strangle him if he’d ever called her gentle, but she was tender in their intimate moments this morning. Perhaps it was her nightmare, or the time that had passed. Perhaps it was simply the desire for intimacy more than plain lust.
“Majesty?” Lord Stanley asked. “What about your wine is so amusing?”
Arrago looked up from his wine glass; he’d not realized he’d been grinning. He surveyed the room, the smile not fading at all. “I’ve missed this.”
Kiner snorted, while Bethany rolled her eyes dramatically. Myra and Amber both crossed their arms, and gave Arrago an almost identical annoyed look. As they were both Rygents, more or less, it stood to reason that they both sensed his own amusement at the situation. He gave them both an apologetic smile, which only made their scowls deepen.
Jonas and Jackson were sensible enough to stay out of it, as was Lord Brennus and this new elf, Darien.
Her Grace and the Dowager attempted a similar disapproving stance, but the Dowager had decades of practice at looking displeased. And she was putting all of her mastery to good use.
Edmund, Lord Rayner, and Lord Stanley continued to bicker amongst themselves, because it wouldn’t be a meeting with the king if those three weren’t arguing about something.
Arrago raised his wine glass and the chattered died down. “We have two threats right now. First, there is this supposed threat against me.”
“It isn’t supposed, Majesty!” Lord Rayner said. “We must take every hint of treason and sedition seriously.”
“His Majesty knows that,” Lord Stanley interrupted. “However, the poor boy would never do anything but taking these threats seriously. There are always threats.”
“And this is why he must take this seriously!” Lord Rayner sh
outed.
“He is!” Edmund roared back.
Arrago sipped his glass of wine while the drawing room erupted in more shouting and accusations. When he finished the extravagant drink, he stood and walked over to the sideboard. He placed the glass there, alongside the empty basket of food from the previous night. The arguing died down once more.
“Are you people done yet?” Arrago said. When there was no reply beyond annoyed mumbles, he continued. “Our second issue is that the elves apparently want Bethany dead, and aren’t afraid to kill Lendra in the process.”
“Why would the elves kill two of their own?” Lord Rayner demanded.
“Technically, they’re not,” Kiner said. “Everyone in this room knows Bethany and Lendra are Apexia’s daughters. We all know that. Now, yes, while it’s known, many people don’t actually believe it. And, now, the Elven Council has decided to turn their back on Bethany. She’s stirred up a hornet’s nest and they are out for blood.”
“I am not having elves invading my country to kill her,” Arrago said. At least, he meant to say the words, but they came out as a growl. His fist clenched at the thought of elven assassins in his country, hunting down his beloved. “I will invade elven territory before I let that happen.”
“Arrago,” Bethany said, stepping toward him. She looked over her shoulder, and said, quietly, “Don’t say things like that.”
“I mean it,” Arrago snapped.
“I know,” she said, still speaking in that quiet, gentle voice she so rarely used in public. “But now is not the time. Your Grace, you said Rutherford is the money behind this.”
The Dowager inclined her head. “I did, Lady Bethany. With the assistance of Rose and a few other very discreet servants, I’ve gathered proof that Lord Rutherford has been funding some kind of attack at the Summer’s End ball next week. I do not know what their exact plan will be, but I do know the purpose is to destroy all loyalists and to kill both his Majesty and Prince Henry.”
“The ball is next week,” Arrago said.
“Yes, Majesty,” The Dowager said.
“Then we cancel this party,” Bethany said shrugging. “Problem solved for the short term.”
“How can you say that!” Lord Brennus shouted at her, surprising everyone. “You, of all people, know that the best way to deal with a traitor is to carry on and give no indication that you have become aware of their plans. How can you stand there and suggest we cancel the ball? This is our chance to—”
“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” Bethany shouted back.
The room erupted once more. Arrago leaned against the sideboard and let them hash it out again. At this rate, the traitors would die from inaction and boredom, since it was clear to Arrago that he was never leaving this room again. His bladder announced it was very unhappy with this fact and, for a brief moment, Arrago entertained the idea of unbuttoning right there in the midst of their fight and relieving himself into the fireplace. His good sense suppressed this urge, but at least the daydream was pleasant.
Lord Stanley was shouting at Lord Brennus. Edmund put his own oar into that fight, and both men turned on him to shout him down. Bethany stabbed a finger in the air and shouted at them all in a steady stream of vulgarities, all the while Lendra tried to calm her sister down. This infuriated Myra, who began shouting at Lendra. Amber came to Lendra’s side, and joined in.
Not to be outdone, the Dowager yelled at Lord Stanley for him to bring the proceedings under control, and Her Grace Cassandra yelled at her mother to butt out of conversations that weren’t her business. Rose, who’d clearly taken a keen fondness to the old lady, pounded her fist against her palm as she tried to form words with her maimed tongue. Jackson and Jonas tried to calm her, which only infuriated her more.
Poor Darien stood in the middle of it all, wide-eyed and pale.
Kiner leaned against the sideboard, mimicking Arrago’s posture. “How long are you planning to let this go on?”
“First blood?” Arrago suggested.
“Three gold on the old lady,” Kiner said.
“Her getting bloody or her drawing blood?”
“Oh, her drawing blood,” Kiner said gravely.
Bethany’s voice cut through the shouting. “They will kill him!”
That brought a momentary reprieve before Stanley shot back, “Let them try!”
Arrago sighed and said, “Enough.” He picked up a pewter decorative plate from the sideboard and slammed it down. His teeth vibrated, but he still shouted, “Enough!”
Silence fell over the group. “I believe it’s my turn to talk.”
Unimpressed looks greeted him.
“I understand all of you have my best interests at heart, and that’s why you are all behaving like feral cats.”
More unimpressed looks.
“However, we are not cancelling the ball.” He raised his hand to stem off arguments. “Lord Brennus is right. If we cancel the ball, these traitors will know we suspect them. We will lose this opportunity to root them out and perhaps even capture them. We have the upper hand and we need to use it. We have one week to find out who these people are, and what they are planning.”
“It would make more sense,” Bethany argued, “to cancel the ball and use that time to figure out the details of this conspiracy.”
“No. Lord Brennus is right, and you know it.”
“This isn’t about personal feelings. There’s more than just you living here.” Bethany motioned to encompass the palace. “They could all be hurt.”
“I know, so let’s use this time to find these people.” At her frustrated expression, Arrago added, “There will always be conspiracies against me.”
“How is that supposed to comfort me?”
“I don’t see the difference between this and you running off to do training missions and telling me it’s your job.”
Kiner snorted, and covered it up with a cough. Edmund helpfully patted Kiner on the back.
“My job is to fight. Yours is to sit in a chair and look important.”
“If I make you queen, you’ll be decorating a chair alongside me.”
Arrago loved watching the storm cloud forming in Bethany’s eyes. He had no intention of doing anything of the sort—Bethany wouldn’t let him—but it was so much fun to crawl under her skin.
She clamped her mouth shut, however, and deprived Arrago of watching her make a delicious scene. Instead, Bethany pinched the bridge of her nose. “Lord Stanley, please talk some sense into him.”
“My dear lady, if I had any sway over this man, don’t you think I would have used it by now?”
****
A disgusted sound escaped Bethany. “Then I have no chance to change his mind.”
“No, because I’m right,” Arrago said.
She knew he was right, but she also worried about any elven assassins sent after her or Lendra. No, they weren’t targeting Lendra so much as targeting her. That was where this theory about her being a Magi was falling down; they were sisters, so either neither of them were Magi or both of them were. So why target her specifically?
The answer had come to her that morning, after she’d made love to Arrago to avoid answering his proposal. She was going to say yes, but not right now. She needed this crisis out of the way first. There would be plenty of time.
There was an odd side effect of being quiet with Arrago, in the afterglow of intimacy: with her anxieties and worries lessened, she could think clearer. And one thought screamed at her that it was right. The more she thought it over, the more she was certain it was right.
She’d permanently weakened the elves.
She had not meant to. It had never been her intention. Yet, here it was staring her in the face. She had put a strong leader on the throne of Taftlin. The war had created many elven war heroes in Taftlin, and any attempt to crush that devotion would only make these people elevate those elves higher. Here was a room of elves, Elorians, Rygents, and humans, who’d all come together for a c
ommon purpose. It was everything the conservative, traditional hard-line of the Council feared.
And she’d helped make this possible. She’d been the one to buck against all of the traditional rules. She’d become the first Lady Champion. That had been bad enough being Elorian, but she’d turned herself into a hero that young elven girls worshipped. What did she do? She enabled girls like Myra to also buck tradition and join the Silver Knights. And as more and more Elorians and humans joined their ranks, they were more open to new ideals that the traditionalists would have never tolerated.
That’s why Jud excelled; elves for elves, and no one else. And what did she do? She spat in his face. She ignored the wishes of the Council and packed up the army to march north. When she’d done that, the Council must have realized it was her army and not theirs. She fought the war, won the war, and at what cost? She lost the blessing of Apexia.
In that one action, Apexia had basically told the elves they were now on their own. They were no longer the superior race. They were no longer the favoured ones who shared their bounty with other races when they deemed it acceptable. She’d forced their hand and they were retreating.
“What’s wrong?” Arrago asked.
She looked up at the man she loved and realized, at that moment, right there, she didn’t care anymore about elves. She hadn’t cared in a long time. She cared about loyalty and family. And while Brennus, Darien, and the duchesses were strangers to her still, the others weren’t. They were her family. Soon, Jovan would be there. And they would find Erem. Bethany would amass her family around her, here, in her new seat of power.
If the Council wanted to come after her, let them. This was her home now.
“Let’s have the ball and let’s kill every single one of these motherless bastards.”
Everyone stared at her. Arrago spoke first. “Um, what brought about the change of mind?”
“These assholes are coming into our homes and trying to dictate how we live our lives. They want us to be afraid. Fuck afraid. You’re right, Brennus. Absolutely right. Fuck them all. Let’s burn them alive. Why is everyone staring at me?”
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