Weight of the Crown

by A. C. Cobble

  The man’s silver goatee quivered and he clenched his hands in front of him. He looked like he might get sick.

  Ben saw Amelie had struck the mark. Short of open rebellion, there was nothing the man could do, and his support was dwindling rapidly. He had to know any move to thwart a woman who was on her way to the throne would bring repercussions later.

  “I move we vote on succession immediately,” called a jolly-looking man in a silver and blue doublet. He rubbed his hands on his prodigious belly and winked at Amelie. “The city could stand to do a little celebrating, and I’m told the party for a coronation is quite grand.”

  “That’s it!” objected Lord Dronson, glancing around the table, desperate for a way out. “The city will be under siege in a matter of days. Surely, we should look to the defense of Issen before we plan a-a party.”

  “I agree. We should immediately begin preparations for our defense,” declared Amelie. “My army is two days outside of Issen. Both the Alliance and the Coalition are four days away. The quicker we settle this, the quicker my men can bolster Issen’s defenses. In addition to the army, I’ve learned a few tricks myself which may help protect us from the Alliance and the Coalition.”

  Finally, the soldiers outside of the door began to trickle in, their damaged armor scraping loudly as they filtered through the doorway. Every highborn eye turned and watched the battered men nervously edge into the room.

  “I second Lord Flinn’s motion to vote on succession immediately,” declared another lord. He was standing two seats down from Lady Inslie’s father and earned himself a murderous glare. He met the look from Lord Tand and added, “I’ve known the Lady Amelie since her birth, and I served her father loyally. The law is clear.”

  “She’s the legal heir, she’s a mage, and she has an army,” remarked a younger man dryly. He was only a few winters older than Ben and Amelie. Unlike many of the others, he carried a broadsword at his hip. From his stance, Ben guessed he knew how to use it. The man was standing next to Dronson and had much of the older lord’s look. “We had a motion and a second. Let’s get on with it.”

  Dronson scowled at the young man and then glanced around the table. “If there are no objections…”

  None of the lords or ladies answered him.

  Dronson continued, “By a vote of hands, all those in favor of naming Amelie the Lady of Issen—”

  Before he could finish, hands raised around the table. Every one of them voted to legalize the succession except Lady Inslie and Dronson himself. The tall girl glared at Amelie until her father put an elbow into her side, and slowly, her hand went up as well.

  “It’s unanimous, then,” murmured Lord Dronson. He sheepishly met Amelie’s gaze. “Shall we… Shall we arrange for a public coronation?”

  “Not now,” instructed Amelie. “As has been mentioned, there’s a war looming on our doorstep. A public announcement is suitable until the coming conflict is settled. I trust you will arrange it, Lord Dronson?”

  The man nodded reluctantly.

  “Are my parent’s rooms occupied?” asked Amelie.

  Dronson shook his head.

  “Then I shall retire there and hold personal audiences this evening. Tomorrow, I will conduct a full court, and I expect everyone will be in attendance. You will hold your personal petitions until military matters have been settled. I want all of our generals and senior commanders present. We’ll discuss the makeup of my forces and determine how best they can be integrated into the city’s defenses. Lords and Ladies, I am willing to put this meeting behind us if you are. We have much to do, and it will require all of our efforts.”

  Murmurs of assent sounded throughout the chamber, some more enthusiastic than others, but none could dispute the logic of what Amelie was saying. Satisfied, Amelie turned and gestured to the three young guards they’d found in the hallway.

  “Escort me to my rooms,” she instructed.

  Nodding, the three shuffled toward the door. Their peers, finally recovered from Amelie’s blast of wind, parted before them. The captain who’d confronted them outside the council doors bowed low, and when he rose, Ben saw a streak of blood from his nose to his lips. He appeared uninjured otherwise.

  “Attend to your men,” instructed Amelie. “Then, Captain Whan, come see me.”

  The captain nodded, swallowed nervously, and pivoted on his heel as Amelie marched by him.

  “Four bells until full dark,” said Rhys, peering out a window as they walked. “We have four bells before the first assassin strikes.”

  “You’d better get some rest then,” replied Amelie.

  11

  Dark of Night

  “Lord Avery is here to see you,” announced a servant as the guard captain departed.

  “Thank you,” responded Amelie, stifling a yawn with a balled fist. “You may send him in, and… do you think there will be many other visitors?”

  The servant could only shrug. “If you agree to see them, they will keep coming.”

  A moment later, the young highborn who had stood next to Dronson and spoken in support of Amelie swept through the door. A hand rested confidently on his broadsword, and he surveyed the room like he owned it. Ben saw a pair of fine leather gloves tucked into the man’s belt, and the basket-hilt of his broadsword was nicked from use. While the scabbard the man wore was covered in an intricate swirl of silver patterns and studded with small rubies, the weapon was unadorned. Clearly exquisite craftsmanship, though. It was made by a master bladesmith for use, not for fashion.

  “Lord Avery,” acknowledged Amelie, standing from a delicate desk she’d been sitting behind.

  Ben was seated on the other side of it, and he stood as well, offering a nod to the lord.

  The man frowned at Ben, and the expression only deepened when his gaze crossed the rest of the room. Rhys was lounging on a silk chaise, stretched across it like a cat in a windowsill. Prem was resting near him in an amply stuffed armchair, her bare feet propped next to the rogue’s boots on the chaise. Serrot was sitting straight-backed in an unassuming, simple chair in the corner of the room. He looked as if he wished he could become part of the furniture himself.

  “My companions,” offered Amelie. “Lord Ben, the general of our army, which will arrive in two days. Lord Rhys, my security officer. Lady Prem, an emissary from the west, and Serrot, my… huntsman.”

  “A private moment?” asked Avery.

  Amelie shook her head. “My people and I have much to discuss, and I do not have time to track them down after our talk. They can hear anything you have to tell me, and their discretion is assured.”

  “You have a lot of faith in the loyalty of your people,” remarked Lord Avery.

  Amelie smirked. “They weren’t in a council plotting to replace me on the throne.”

  Lord Avery winced, but he pressed on. “I apologize for my father’s behavior at the council. I tell you in truth he thought you were dead. It was not an attempt to replace you but an attempt to find a ruler who would keep Issen’s interests first. I hope you can understand the situation we were in.”

  “I do understand,” responded Amelie. “The houses were acting as I would expect them to if I was dead, but I am not, Lord Avery. I am very much alive. I thank you for your candor and will return the favor by telling you something true. I was disappointed in how your father reacted once he saw me. I’ve known him since childhood, and I would have liked if he was the one making the motion to vote. Lord Dronson always has been a stickler for the law, hasn’t he? He was the one who suggested stripping my mother’s title, wasn’t he? For someone so knowledgeable to stall and stammer like he did… it made me wonder if he was influenced by another party.”

  “Merely a moment of shock,” muttered Lord Avery, looking visibly uncomfortable. Ben noticed his fingers tightening on his broadsword. “I came to assure you that you have the full support of our family, and I would like to remind you that I spoke quickly in favor of the vote. There are no other, ah, influences.”<
br />
  “You did speak for me,” conceded Amelie. “When it comes time for more than words, I hope to see evidence of that support. Lord Avery, I will tell you another truth. The Veil is dead, and I am the one who killed her.”

  The lord coughed, and his eyes bulged. Finally, he managed to croak, “I had not heard of… that.”

  “I did not think you had, which is why I shared the news,” replied Amelie. “Any entanglements that members of the court have with that woman should be ended immediately. I hope I can count on your assistance with this?”

  “Of course,” said Avery, sketching a long, deep bow. It almost hid the angry flush in his face. When he rose, though, he’d gotten himself under control. “You have our full support, and if I hear of anyone… allying themselves with the Sanctuary, I will let you know. When I saw you today, I-I thought to make another offer. It is still just words, I know, but I would be pleased if you could join me for dinner this evening. I would love a chance to explain the current situation in the city to you and to hear about where you have been. Our fathers were close, Amelie, and there is no reason we cannot be close as well.”

  Amelie forced a smile onto her face. “I appreciate the invitation, but I am exhausted from travel and have much to do. I am sure you understand. Perhaps another time after this situation with the Alliance and Coalition is resolved?”

  Lord Avery showed a weak smile and turned to study the rest of the people in the room. He looked at Rhys with particular disdain and raised an eyebrow at the rogue’s boots on the silk furniture. Rhys winked at him. Lord Avery, refusing to cow to Amelie’s staff, turned back to her.

  “It’s a strange group you’ve assembled, m’lady.” Glancing at Ben, he asked, “Can you tell me more of your army?”

  “It’s not technically my army,” replied Amelie with a smile. “It is Ben’s.”

  “Ben, Lord Ben?” inquired Lord Avery. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with you, m’lord. Where do you hail from?”

  “Farview,” answered Ben.

  Avery continued to frown, and Ben guessed the lord wasn’t any more familiar with Farview than he was with Lord Ben.

  “And the army, it is sufficient to protect Issen?” asked Avery. “The Alliance and the Coalition have been building forces for years. I’m concerned that if we interpose between them, Issen could be destroyed. Amelie, do you think it wise to bring this force into the city and risk provoking the two armies? My father had intended to negotiate with them, to find an equitable solution that benefited Issen.”

  “He would negotiate with them, or Lady Inslie would?” questioned Amelie.

  “I, ah—”

  “I know what your father intended, Lord Avery. I know who he was working with, also. You should know what the Veil intended. She was pursuing this war for her own reasons. The woman had no intention of allowing a peaceful negotiation to take place. She wanted the war. She shared knowledge of the law which stripped my mother’s titles so that the armies would march quickly. Battle was the outcome she desired. Battle and death. I appreciate your invitation to dinner, but do not think I’m some star-eyed little girl. Much has happened since I left, and I am a different person than you once knew.”

  “I can see that,” agreed Lord Avery, sounding injured. “Just remember, any ruler without allies is sitting on an unsteady perch. After the vote today, you are legally the Lady of Issen. History is full of legal rulers toppling, though, isn’t it?”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “Only a warning, m’lady. I am your ally. Do not push me away.”

  A moment of silence passed, then Amelie responded. “I will not. You are right. Our families have been close, and I hope it remains that way.”

  Lord Avery, eyes locked on her, offered a short bow and then departed.

  “I think that man wants to bed you,” mentioned Prem.

  “I believe you are right. He does want that, that and a lot more.”

  “He’s not bad on the eyes,” added Prem.

  “I’m right here,” reminded Ben.

  “I wasn’t suggesting Amelie bed him.” The former guardian laughed. “I’m just saying he is a well-built fellow, and I don’t doubt he has a great deal of experience. I suspect that like many things, experience can go a long way. Amelie is with you, of course, but for someone who is currently unattached and looking for a romp…”

  “A romp?” exclaimed Rhys, sitting upright on the chaise. “Surely not with that fop!”

  Prem dropped her feet from the furniture and stood, bringing her body close to the rogue’s face. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “What I do is of no concern to you… or is it?”

  “I—”

  Prem’s fingers trailed across the rogue’s cheek and then she walked on bare feet over to Amelie and Ben. “In addition to the man’s broad shoulders, I couldn’t help but notice what sounded like some subtle threats. His claim to be your ally rings false to me, Amelie.”

  “Some subtle and some not-so-subtle threats,” murmured Amelie, pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers. “His father is Lord Dronson, and it seems all of this was merely a gamble to open the door for their true allies to take the throne. I don’t think the father or the son had any clue of the Veil’s true intent, but they certainly played into her hands.”

  “It worked out conveniently for us, too,” mentioned Rhys. “If it wasn’t for Dronson’s timely application of ancient law, whether or not the Sanctuary’s political scholars unearthed it, your mother would still be the Lady of Issen, and Issen would be firmly within Coalition hands. Stripping her rank is the only thing that allowed you to take the empty seat.”

  “Convenient, yes,” agreed Amelie. “It still leaves us in the position of yanking the rug out from under Dronson and House Tand’s feet just moments before they took control. I believe Lord Avery was earnest in his attempt to woo me. If he was able to marry me, he’d be Lord of Issen. It’s probably what he had in mind for Inslie as well. The others don’t have such easy options, though. They are ambitious people, and they’ve already gambled a great deal on the push to strip my mother’s title. They would have spent a fortune to gain support from the other highborn. I can’t imagine they’ll retire to their country estates and write off the loss.”

  “So, we have to assume they’ll move against you,” said Ben.

  “Assassins, poison, political maneuvering…” said Rhys. “They’ll strike at you, and soon.”

  “I can delve my food so poison is no threat,” stated Amelie, “There are other highborn houses that I believe will support us full-throatedly. We should encourage them to employ food tasters if they do not already. They can surround themselves with guards who are personally loyal to them. I believe they will only be periphery targets, though.”

  Rhys stood and began to pace the room. “The other highborn houses would be well-advised to be careful, but you’re right. The serious attempts will be against us. Killing other highborn wouldn’t get your enemies the throne, but it could earn them the enmity of the other houses. They could set off a war amongst the houses with no reward at the end. No, only by killing you can they achieve what they want.”

  “If you can guard against poison,” said Ben, “that means we just need to worry about blades in the night and political attacks.”

  “Just that? Oh, good,” said Prem.

  “Don’t forget about the Alliance and the Coalition,” called Serrot from the corner of the room. “If we survive another four days, they’ll be here.”

  “Rhys,” said Amelie, “will you lead the effort to guard against assassination attempts?”

  “Of course,” agreed the rogue.

  “Prem, can you assist him?” asked Amelie.

  The former guardian shrugged, giving Rhys a look.

  “She should stay with you,” suggested the rogue, offering an apologetic glance back at Prem. “Call her your personal assistant. That gives her an excuse to remain by your side at all times. When someone attacks, they’ll be lo
oking for guards or men like me. She’s nearly as good with those long knives as I am. They’ll never expect it, and we can use that surprise to our advantage.”

  “Nearly as good or a little bit better?” contested Prem.

  “Nearly as good,” replied Rhys. After a pause, he added, “I’ve been practicing longer. As you said, experience counts.”

  “Maybe. We could test it if we have another chance to spar.”

  “Perhaps someday—”

  “Can you two flirt another time?” grumbled Ben.

  “Agreed,” said Amelie. “Are you able to work together?”

  “I can,” said Prem, not turning to look at the rogue.

  “We can,” agreed Rhys.

  “Good,” said Amelie. “Ben, many of the household guard will remember me from when I was a child, but they know nothing about what I’ve been doing or what I will be like as a leader. They will be loyal, but it will not be a deep loyalty that has been earned. I think the easiest way to bolster our political position is by a stronger show of force. It’s not what we planned, but the value of visibility within Issen will be worth letting the Alliance and Coalition know we’re here. Ben, we need your men.”

  Ben nodded. “Prem can ask her father to make haste.”

  “I’d like you to go get them,” suggested Amelie.

  Ben frowned.

  “I know they can find Issen and the way to the castle on their own,” said Amelie, “but you walking at the head of the force will make a powerful statement. The highborn here, they think of titles, status, gold, and swords. They won’t understand or even believe your position as a general until they see you leading troops. When they do, they’ll have no choice but to acknowledge you. Having a proper general by my side with our own army will go a long way in convincing the highborn they made the right decision supporting me. It will go a long way toward convincing them we’re competent enough to lead them through what comes next.”