A Court for Thieves (A Throne for Sisters—Book Two)

by Morgan Rice

“I’m glad that you’re safe,” his mother said, holding him in the hug for a moment longer. “When I heard everything that the messengers had to say… I didn’t want to believe it. I told them that if they were lying to me about my son being in danger, I’d have them sent away in disgrace.”

  Sebastian could imagine her doing that, but it didn’t make him feel better. Even in what he suspected was a declaration of motherly love, there was still a reminder that the formality of the court could never entirely go away.

  Sebastian hated it. Normally, he could cope with the falseness and the shallowness of it all, the need to do not just the right thing but the expected thing. Yet it had been all of that which had meant he hadn’t felt able to marry Sophia. It had been all of that which had forced him to put her aside, leaving her hating him. Any reminder of it, right then, was too much.

  “Sebastian, are you all right?” his mother asked, reaching out to touch his face. Sebastian realized that she was examining the cut on his cheek. “Do your wounds hurt much?”

  “A little,” Sebastian admitted, although right then he wanted the pain, because it seemed to match the rest of him. What Sophia obviously felt for him had torn his heart in two. What was a little physical pain compared to that?

  “I shall send for the finest physikers,” his mother assured him. “They will stitch this wound, and it will look like nothing more than a handsome dueling scar. It will be dashing.”

  “Dashing?” Sebastian echoed. He could hear how flat his voice was, the pain he felt inside stripping the emotion out of it. “Was that how you wanted me to look when you sent me on an expedition to slaughter farmers, Mother?”

  His mother stood back, looking stern for a moment.

  “Those farmers had declared themselves in opposition to the crown,” she pointed out. “They were traitors.”

  Sebastian thought of pointing out that the days when the king or queen had been able to arbitrarily decide that were long gone.

  “You think I shouldn’t have sent you?” his mother asked. “They were clearly an enemy of the crown. Fighting them was a chance to show the people around you that you are a strong prince, of use to the realm.”

  “By the people around me, you mean the Assembly of Nobles?” Sebastian demanded. “After what happened in the civil wars, you think they’ll be impressed by a prince who goes around slaughtering his mother’s subjects?”

  His mother fixed him with a level gaze that had very little to do with the warmth or concern she’d shown before.

  “People respect strength, Sebastian. Kindness, generosity, and all the other fine qualities that you have are only of use if you have the strength to do something with them. As a ruler, I can do more good than any dozen others in my realm, but it is only possible if I have the strength to hold my position.”

  “You speak as if these farmers could have overthrown you,” Sebastian said.

  His mother stood in silence for a moment or two.

  “Alone? No, of course not,” she said. “If it didn’t matter either way, I might even let them have their scrub-covered little island. But it does matter, because if others were to hear that they succeeded in their uprising, what then? There are already occasional assassins, and idiots who sing their songs against the monarchy. A good quarter of the nobles in the Assembly were on the wrong side in the wars, or had fathers who were, at least. You think they wouldn’t fight it all again if they thought they could win?”

  Sebastian didn’t have any answers to that. He didn’t remember the civil wars, although he’d heard the stories about them, the same as everyone else. He’d seen the lasting tensions sometimes, expressed in old grudges and pointed comments.

  “And so you sent me to have an easy fight against farmers,” Sebastian said. “Just as you sent Rupert into easy battles.”

  “You think I should truly risk my sons?” his mother shot back. “Who would do that?”

  Most of her subjects’ mothers got no choice in it. Even so, Sebastian let it go, because he could understand the need to keep someone safe. What would he have done if Sophia had been in danger? Besides, the truth was that he’d found far more on the Strait Islands than farmers.

  “It was the New Army there,” he said.

  “So your messenger said,” his mother replied. She moved to the chaise, sitting and gesturing for Sebastian to do the same. She poured tea as if Sebastian hadn’t said anything. Like that, she could have been the image of an older noble widow in a kind of semi-retirement, with little to do beyond planning the next ball or touring her estates. Yet this wasn’t some lesser noble. This was his mother, the Dowager.

  “What do you intend to do about it?” Sebastian asked.

  “I have already given instructions to deal with the immediate threat,” his mother said. “As for whatever might follow… we will deal with that as it becomes necessary. We are not without fighting men. The free companies, for all that they claim impartiality, are unlikely to stand by and allow their homes to be destroyed.”

  It seemed like a gamble to Sebastian, relying on mercenaries. More than that, it felt like an attempt to make him stay home safely again, when the last thing he wanted then was safety. He didn’t deserve it. If Sophia hated him, he definitely didn’t want it.

  “Send the royal cavalry,” he said. “Let us hold the line. I’ve fought the New Army before, and succeeded.”

  “Winning one battle doesn’t mean that you have to win all of them,” his mother countered. “This realm has many soldiers, but very few princes. I do not have enough sons to start risking them.”

  “Rupert is the heir,” Sebastian insisted. “And you still allowed him his place in the army. If I fight the invaders, it will look good. You said yourself that people respect strength.”

  He said it, although the truth was that he didn’t care about any of it. It was just what he had to say in order to be thrown in the direction of the conflict. If Sophia hated him, then Sebastian wanted to lose himself in that violence and be swept away by it. If he’d known how much she hated him when he was back on the Strait Islands, perhaps he would even have stood still on that beach and let the next musket ball claim him.

  Or perhaps not. Sebastian didn’t want to live without Sophia, but he wouldn’t waste his life either. No, he would throw himself into the hardest parts of the battle. He would fight the enemy with everything he had, and would simply have to hope that somewhere out there, there was someone with the strength or skill or luck to end the sheer emptiness that welled up inside him at the thought of all he’d lost.

  “I don’t want to lose you,” his mother said. “Sebastian, I know that things didn’t turn out well for you with the girl you brought to see me, but that is no reason to throw yourself into the heart of a war.”

  It felt like the best reason there was, from where Sebastian was standing. It wasn’t a surprise that his mother had noticed that Sophia was gone, because after all, the servants and the guards reported to her. He had to wonder, though, what she would think if she knew all of it.

  “Mother,” he said, “my mind is made up. I have my commission with the royal cavalry, and I will do my part in any conflict to come.”

  “You will do as you are told,” his mother said. “Remember that it is a royal regiment. It will go where I command, and if you think that it will be anywhere near true danger, then you clearly aren’t listening, Sebastian.”

  “Why, Mother?” he demanded, standing. “What does it matter?”

  She rose, taking his hand in hers. “It matters because you are my son and I love you. Besides, I have more important matters for you than mere battles.”

  Sebastian couldn’t think of anything more important right then. None of it seemed to mean anything, so what could his mother have in mind that was more important than an invasion?

  “What are you planning, Mother?” he asked.

  “When you announced your plan to marry that girl, I was happy for you,” his mother said. Sebastian noted that she didn’t use
Sophia’s name. “And when the arrangement fell through, I could see how upset you were. I want to do something that will make you happy.”

  Sebastian stood there in silence, because he had a horrible feeling that he knew what his mother was about to say next.

  “I was pleased by the engagement, because the truth is that it is time you were married, Sebastian. It seems clear that Rupert won’t be settling down just yet, and so it falls to you, as a matter of duty. Of honor.”

  “I can’t marry,” Sebastian said. “Sophia is gone.”

  He saw his mother shake her head in obvious exasperation. “You say that as if she is the only girl in the world who might be a suitable match. She isn’t. Far from it, which is why I have taken the time to arrange a suitable match for you myself.”

  Sebastian stared at her in disbelief. “What?”

  He supposed he should probably have guessed at it. It wasn’t as though young men of his rank typically had the luxury of settling their own marriages, when such things could contain so many nuances of diplomacy and succession, alliance and dowry. He just hadn’t expected his mother to see the gap left by Sophia’s absence and decide that it needed to be filled like a child receiving a new puppy to replace a lost one.

  “Mother, this isn’t—” Sebastian began, but his mother was talking again.

  “I have arranged a match,” she said. “And a far more suitable one at that, although don’t worry, the girl in question is quite lovely. I have spoken to her parents, and the engagement is set except for the formality of the Assembly’s approval. You even know the girl, which I’m sure will smooth things somewhat.”

  “Who?” Sebastian asked, although even as he asked it, the possibilities started to take shape in his mind.

  “Why, Milady d’Angelica, of course,” his mother said. “I am sure that she will be perfect for you. She will certainly be perfect for the kingdom.”

  Sebastian stood there in silence. Finally, he did the only thing he could think of to do: he turned on his heel and walked out, leaving his mother staring in his wake.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  Sebastian stood in his rooms, throwing things into a travel bag and trying to decide what was important. Money would be useful. Spare clothes for the journey, but not the finery of the court. Sebastian looked around. How much of this really mattered? Maybe if he’d realized that earlier, it wouldn’t have come to this in the first place.

  He could feel the pressure of time ticking away as he packed. Every moment was one in which his mother might decide to keep him in the palace by force, invoking her authority as his mother, his queen, the commander of his regiment. Probably the only reasons she hadn’t done it already were that she didn’t really think that it was possible that he might leave, and she was worried about the scandal that might come from a prince being hurt trying to get out of his own palace.

  He was going, though, because he had to. If he didn’t, then there was no chance that he would ever find Sophia. No chance that he could ever make this right.

  “Maybe there is no chance,” Sebastian said, but he hoped that it wasn’t true. He knew he didn’t deserve Sophia. Her sister had made that abundantly clear, even if Sebastian hadn’t known for himself the harm he’d caused. He’d pushed Sophia away, putting his duty ahead of what he felt for her. He’d thrown her out onto the street, where she’d been taken as little more than a slave, whatever the kingdom’s laws said about the nobility of indenture. He’d told her that he couldn’t love her, when that was anything but true.

  He didn’t deserve to be able to make this better, but he had to find a way. If that meant leaving Ashton and traveling blindly until he found some news of her, he would. Sebastian would do whatever it took to get her back.

  “Sebastian? What are you doing?”

  Sebastian turned to find Angelica entering his rooms. Now that he knew about the marriage arrangement, he could see the simplicity of her dress, the gentleness of her manner, for what it was: no more than an attempt to snare him by being something he could find acceptable.

  “What does it look as though I’m doing, Angelica?” he demanded. “I’m packing to leave.”

  He saw her frown at that. She did it prettily, of course, but her beauty had never been the point. He should have known that there was more to her helping him with his wound than simple kindness.

  “Leave?” she said. “Surely they’re not sending you away to fight again before the wedding?”

  “So you knew about it, then,” Sebastian said. He wasn’t surprised. It was just confirmation of everything he’d been thinking since his mother announced this.

  “About the wedding?” Angelica said. “Yes. Your mother told me about the arrangement she’d made with my father. I didn’t tell you because… well, I thought she would want to tell you something like that herself, and because I thought it might be good to get to at least know a little of the real you.”

  It all sounded so plausible, but around the court, plausibility was common currency. Sebastian wasn’t sure what to believe right then.

  “So you didn’t find a way to make this marriage happen?” Sebastian asked. “You didn’t push my mother into it?”

  “How could I?” Angelica asked, and the demure look she gave him might have been more believable if he hadn’t seen her looking exactly like that at a dozen parties. “Do you really think that I have enough power to make the Dowager do anything she doesn’t want to do?”

  She had a point with that, and Sebastian calmed just a touch. Not even Angelica could force this marriage. It was his mother’s doing.

  “Your mother summoned me to her,” Angelica said. “She told me that she had arranged the marriage with my parents, and that the matter was settled. Yes, I told her that I was happy with the prospect, but I didn’t set it up or have any choice in it.”

  “And that doesn’t make you angry?” Sebastian asked. His own anger was bubbling below the surface: at what his mother had done, at the situation he faced, and at his own stupidity in pushing Sophia away. If he hadn’t done that, things might be different. They might have been getting married even now.

  “Why should it?” Angelica asked, spreading her hands. “Do you think I haven’t known my whole life that my entire worth comes down to finding a match to a suitable lord? That I would probably have no say in it anyway? With you, I know I am marrying a kind, gentle, handsome man. A prince, no less. Does it matter so much that I don’t have a choice? I know you will make me happy.”

  Sebastian wasn’t so sure about that. He’d managed to destroy Sophia’s happiness thoroughly enough.

  “I can make you happy too,” Angelica said, stepping forward to drape her arms around Sebastian’s neck. “I promise.”

  She kissed him then, and it was a different kind of kiss from the ones he’d had with Sophia. There was skill behind this, and control. It was a good kiss, but it was good because it was a well-practiced thing, not because of any connection between them.

  “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Angelica asked. “I know you must think all kinds of things of me, Sebastian, but you will have time to get to know the real me once we’re married. Now,” she said, pulling him toward the bedroom, “I know you have your wound to consider, but we’ll find a way to work around it. I’ll help you to forget all about your objections.”

  Sebastian pushed her back then, and it was probably harder than he intended, because she stumbled.

  “No, Angelica. No. I don’t want to forget Sophia. How can you think that I would? You think that I can just jump into a marriage and hope to be happy?”

  “What choice do we have?” Angelica countered. “Shouldn’t we at least try to make the best of it?”

  “We both have a choice,” Sebastian said. He wished he’d realized that a long time ago. “I’m making mine. I’m sorry, Angelica, it’s not that you’ve done something wrong, but it’s Sophia I want. I’m going after her, whatever my mother says. I’m going to find her, and I’m going to persuade h
er to forgive me. She’s everything I need. The only thing I need.”

  Put like that, he probably didn’t need to spend any more time packing. He walked for the door, grabbing his few possessions on the way. So long as he found Sophia, the rest of it didn’t matter.

  ***

  Angelica very deliberately picked an expensive vase to break first. A second-era jewel glaze, by the look of it, which had probably taken the finest craftsmen days to produce a hundred years ago. It broke into fragments with a satisfying crack.

  Sebastian wasn’t there to hear it, of course. Angelica wasn’t about to let him see this, because that would be evidence of the pain that he could cause her, and she wasn’t in the business of allowing people to see that. In any case, the kind of woman to whom he was attracted was demure and delicate, not given to fits of carefully judged rage.

  Because she wasn’t done with it, she broke a mirror next, not caring about the glittering slivers that scattered across the floor. A servant would pick them up soon enough.

  How had this happened? That question nagged at the edge of Angelica’s thoughts. How had Sebastian rejected her? The idea of it had seemed so impossible before that she hadn’t even considered it. She had assumed that the dutiful prince would have married his horse if his mother commanded it, and she was a long way from that.

  She was refined, she was beautiful, she was educated. She had very carefully cultivated every accomplishment that a young woman should have, from languages to music, good taste to dancing. She brought with her a connection to one of the kingdom’s old families, and at least a moderate fortune. If Angelica hadn’t just broken the nearest mirror, she might have surveyed herself in it and seen the perfect example of nobility, constructed with all the care of a fine house or a beautiful bauble. Any man should have been falling over himself for her hand.

  Yet Sebastian had rejected her. He had turned and walked out as if she hadn’t even been there.

  That was unthinkable. Angelica had made a special effort for him, noting his dislike of gaudy clothes, trying to show a more human side to herself, even kissing him with all the skill and passion that came from hours of practice in quiet corners of noble gatherings. He should have been begging her to marry him, yet instead, he had gone off on some fool’s errand.