by Lisa Kumar
“She would be, but she bores me. You’re delightfully entertaining.”
“Stop being such a pig. I’ll see you at supper, and you can have a “dose” of my entertaining nature there. If I have any say about it, that’s as close as you’ll get to it—and me—again.” Of course, she may very well have to sleep—or spend time in close quarters—with him, but she’d worry about those irritating temptations when she crossed them.
She waited for his response, and when it came, it threw her off-center. Like always. She stalked to the door with his chuckle ringing in her ears.
Chapter 9
“Your Majesty, are you well?”
The questioning voice snapped Talion out of his revelry and drew him back to the council room. He waved away Alegrian’s concern. “I’m fine.”
He wasn’t, but he knew what ailed him—and who. Pain and exhaustion tore through him. The little witch played games she didn’t understand. He’d have to visit her. The thought caused him to stifle a groan. Though he loved her fiery nature, he feared he didn’t have the energy and patience to deal with her today. He’d have to dredge up the tattered remnants of his pride in order to get what he wanted—and he would. No other alternative was acceptable.
She’d denied him entry to her rooms last night, claiming he didn’t need his “fix” yet. For some unfathomable reason, he hadn’t pressed the issue, but he would this evening.
“I believe our king is preoccupied with a matter of a personal nature.”
Talion leveled a glare at Avrin. “It is of no consequence.” He gazed at the rest of the people assembled and flashed them a charming smile. “Just a beautiful distraction that needs to learn its place. You know how it is.”
“I hope my lovely Alalise is offering you no trouble.”
Mecebrin’s ingratiating voice scraped against Talion’s fragile nerves. Did the man ever tire of bringing up his past relationship with his daughter? “I assure you, she’s not the distraction I’m talking about.”
A scowl flittered across Mecebrin’s face before it faded, and his usual benign expression was back. “I was given to understa—”
“You were misinformed,” Talion cut in, voice like ice. The platinum-haired simpleton flinched, but Talion couldn’t dredge up any remorse. He’d made Alalise no promises, but this was something she and her father seemed to forget.
Mecebrin used his daughter to reach all the important families of the land by placing her in the bed of any randy lord who could further his ambitions. Alalise had never been faithful, and Talion hadn’t expected it of her as long as she’d shown discretion. She accorded him the same respect, and the arrangement had benefited them both until now.
As her father’s aspirations were worrisome, Talion found it all the better to keep him close. He couldn’t accuse Mecebrin of disloyalty, or worse, of treason—yet. Mecebrin wasn’t terribly bright, so Talion didn’t fear he was the mastermind of any mutiny. People such as he served as lackeys, nothing more. But if a mastermind like Baltor, who was another council member, were to direct him…. This was something to fear, because even Mecebrin could prove to be quite dangerous. Talion had more than a few suspicions about who would guide Mecebrin if the situation arose.
Alalise was another problem entirely. He should’ve never mixed pleasure with business. It made for a plethora of possible, sticky situations, like the one Maggie had walked in on. Though he hadn’t touched Alalise since Maggie’s arrival, what Maggie had witnessed would seem to indicate otherwise. Alalise’s behavior hadn’t helped, either. The seductress in her was so ingrained she could barely drop the persona even when she’d no need of it.
With Mecebrin properly cowed, Talion gazed around at his council. “Any more pressing questions into my personal life, or can we discuss what’s truly important here?”
No one offered up a sound—the way he liked it. “Now, back to the darkindred. They are slipping past all our measures to keep them beyond our borders.” He idly tapped a finger against the arm of his chair. “Why is this?”
Though he gazed at Kenhel and Avrin as he said this, he posed the question to all assembled there.
Kenhel spoke up, a steely glint in his eyes. “There must be an informant in the palace.” His foster son’s mouth tightened. “It’s the only possibility that makes any sense.”
Though he kept his face impassive, turmoil roiled in the pit of this stomach. A traitor within his home? Though rare, it’d happened before. And in one instance, the persons involved had been well acquainted with him. Memory hammered away at him for a second before he quelled the visions flowing like water in front of his eyes.
Avrin nodded. “We’re harboring a traitor in our midst, one who’s privy to much knowledge.”
Mecebrin’s friend, Baltor, stuck his nose up in the air. “And how would you know this?”
Avrin’s acidic voice cut through the air. “How else could the darkindred forecast our every move so well?”
Talion bit back a smirk. Avrin didn’t like the brown-haired ass any better than he did. Unfortunately for Avrin, said ass was his brother. Baltor had always used his brother’s position, and then his sister’s, to secure a place at court. Not that Talion would normally grant any rank or influence upon the unworthy, but Baltor was a case that was best kept under his scrutiny. Let the fool think he curried the king’s favor. If he stepped out of line, he’d find out quickly that his favor was nothing more than a case of keeping a possible enemy close.
Avrin lifted a brow. “Indeed, brother, how could they?”
Baltor, the idiot, was nearing this line quite perilously. Amusement and ire mixed in Talion’s blood.
Avrin stiffened. “You would be wise to think carefully before making any kind of accusations against me, brother.”
Though Avrin could handle himself effortlessly, Talion would add his own special brand of sparkle to the situation. “My advisor is one of the most trust-worthy men I know. Only a simpleton would cast aspersions on him.”
Baltor flushed an unbecoming red. “I meant no offense, Your Majesty.”
Talion raised a brow. “Really? I could’ve believed otherwise.” He shrugged and waved the incident away. “But it’s of no importance.” Baltor was of no importance.
Apparently Baltor understood that because his face darkened even farther to a crimson hue. A trickle of dark humor flowed through Talion. If Baltor were human, Talion would’ve suspected a fit of apoplexy had gripped the man. Too bad this was impossible.
Talion flicked off a non-existent piece of lint from the sleeve of his robe. “If that is enough, let us get back to the real threat to our people. An informant to the darkindred is very serious.”
And probably in this room, but he wasn’t idiotic enough to say so. This was a matter best handled by Kenhel, Relian, him, and most of all, Avrin. “Since you made me aware of this…possibility, Commander, what is your course of action?”
Kenhel sent him a knowing look, and Talion nodded faintly. They’d rehearsed for an instance just like this and had scripted responses prepared.
“To ferret out the informant, we’ll have to double up our reconnaissance. A special team will be formed to handle the information gained from this endeavor.” Kenhel inclined his head toward Talion. “With your permission, of course, Your Majesty.”
“You have my permission. Avrin can help. As my chief advisor, he’ll head the committee when I cannot be present.” Talion swiveled his head to look at his old friend. “That is if there aren’t any complaints from you, Avrin?”
The advisor bowed his head. “It would be my pleasure.”
Avrin’s slight smile told Talion he was delighted to be up to his armpits in a covert operation. He’d never change. Talion resisted the urge to shake his head. But who better to head up their true committee than a person well versed in intrigue?
Talion nodded. “Very good. I’ll call a council once the committee has found something of importance. I’m sure I don’t need to say everything we’v
e discussed should stay in this room.” He waited for the murmurs of assent to die away. “If there are no other pressing concerns, you are dismissed.” So the real meeting could begin.
Mecebrin, damn him, cleared his throat. Talion heaved a silent sigh. The need for diplomacy never ended. “Yes, Mecebrin, what is it?”
The councilman sent a nervous glance to Baltor, who managed an exasperated nod. So, Baltor was putting him up to this? Interesting, but not surprising. Mecebrin didn’t have two original thoughts to rub together.
“Some people aren’t happy about Prince Relian’s human woman.”
Wariness crept over Talion. He straightened out of his relaxed sprawl. “You mean the Princess Calantha?” His voice reverberated around the now quiet room with deadly precision.
“Ah, um, y…yes.”
“Then refer to her as such.”
Mecebrin’s throat worked as he swallowed. “Yes, Majesty.”
“Now, what is this about complaints?”
“Just rumors heard among the people.”
“Rumors can be insidious.” Talion shook his head. Did Mecebrin not realize the possible danger? “They can’t always be ignored, lest more discontent surface. But when you say “people,” it’s such an ambiguous, broad term. Please narrow it down.”
“The gentry are particularly vocal.”
A seed of worry sprouted in Talion’s mind. Though he hadn’t expected every one of them to approve, this news was troubling—if true, or at least, not overly exaggerated. “The landholders no longer support the bond?”
The councilor’s gaze darted from side to side before landing on Baltor, who gave him a frown. Mecebrin slowly turned back at Talion. “Some don’t.”
Talion linked his fingers and rested them in front of his chin, eying Mecebrin over them. His calm stance belied his thumping heart. Millennia of ruling taught him how to have an impassive mask in place during times of stress, and he’d never appreciated the fact more than now. “Define some.”
“Well, a few.”
“A few?” How many was that? Though tension roiled in his stomach, he merely shot a brow up. “That’s it?”
“It’s all I know of at the moment.” Mecebrin shrugged hopelessly, his gaze again flicking briefly over to Baltor.
What kind of answer was that? Talion tamped down on the urge to roll his eyes. Could the fool make it any more obvious he couldn’t take a breath without Baltor’s approval? This kind of blind obedience to anyone but him was troubling. Fortunately, Mecebrin wasn’t adept enough to hide where his true devotions lay. And they weren’t with Talion. Or the kingdom.
“Whom does this few consist of? And what do they say?”
“Aaeson and Morsen have voiced discontent. They say another heir should be named—one who can produce a pure-blooded elf.”
“Oh, do they?” Talion kept his voice even, but inside, he was boiling. Aaeson didn’t hold much clout, but Morsen did. What was worse, he’d always considered Morson an ardent supporter. Now, doubt flooded him, and he didn’t know truth from lie. “The only other blood relative I have is banished. Even if he were alive, he’d still be a traitor. Have the naysayers considered this?”
Mecebrin’s mouth opened and closed. “Well, I…um.”
Baltor’s tenor smoothly interjected itself into the conversation. “He was banished for trying to injure the princess, so to them he’s no traitor. But most have no wish to see the direct line of succession taken from your immediate family.”
Alarm flooded every nerve. He didn’t like where this was going. “Relian cannot remarry. He has a complete bond. It cannot be undone.”
“He can keep his human. The suggestion has been put forth that you bond again.”
Fury exploded within Talion’s veins, and he slowly stood up, his fists clenched. Nearly everyone gawked at the action. Let them. Not only was Relian’s position threatened, but also Maggie’s and his own. But no one knew of their bond yet. Or did they? All the different possibilities swirled in his mind like a whirlpool tugging him under.
He raked a scornful gaze over the assembled crowd. “Just because my son is elsewhere at the moment doesn’t mean you can malign him and his wife.” The barely leashed rage in his voice rumbled like thunder.
“I need no more heirs.” Even though fire sped through him, the image of a little boy and girl with Maggie’s spirit floated before him. He almost gasped. His heart threatened to burst from the intensity of the moment, but with a deep and steadying breath, he ruthlessly knocked the image aside. Children with Maggie would be a bonus. However, now wasn’t the time for such reflections, not with their future in jeopardy.
“I won’t bond to appease the court. The succession will remain with Relian. Anyone who doesn’t like this is free to leave.”
No one uttered a sound, not even Mecebrin or Baltor. Why would they? Talion felt a moment of satisfaction. His kingdom was the most prosperous and peaceful in the fae world. Not many would like what was outside of their borders.
“This matter is closed.” But as he said those words, he knew it wasn’t. The council members’ whispers broke the silence that had pervaded the room. By evening, news of his ultimatum would be rife throughout the palace and town. More whispers, good or bad, would spread until they encompassed his whole kingdom. He could command his council members to silence, but knew it would do no good. A traitor would make sure the right ears heard of what transpired.
If his fears were true, the spies in his court were funneling information to the enemy. Even though he was almost certain who the guilty party was, he couldn’t order them taken into custody without evidence. He didn’t rule that way. Unfortunately. In times like this, he wished he were more the dictator.
He closed his eyes as if doing so would stop the flood of rumors. The darkindred would surely try to use this to their advantage by sowing discord wherever they could. The magic that protected and separated the fey world from the human one would take a further plummet. The veil was already fragile. Could it experience another hit without tearing irreparably?
This all amounted to a monumental problem he had to handle with extreme care. He glanced over at Avrin and Kenhel. Both met his gaze unflinchingly, and support shone from their eyes. Talion took a gulp of air to calm the uproar in his body. They’d see a special force put together, far away from the prying eyes of the rest of the council. Now that he had a plan of action, his anger lowered to a slow simmer.
Anyone who hurt his family—specifically the two human women—would regret it. He and Relian could protect themselves. They couldn’t.
With a flick of his hand, he dismissed the council members. Many glanced at him uneasily before leaving. The one he had the greatest concerns about, though, didn’t even send a glance his way. Baltor merely bowed in his direction and strode toward the exit. Talion ground his teeth. He and that one were going to clash—and soon.
Avrin and Kenhel loitered around until everyone had vacated the room. He lost no time in telling them what he wanted as he paced the floor. “I want informants sent to Morsen and Aaeson’s landholdings. Make sure they’re the best—of the most trust-worthy caliber, with a subtlety that will allow them to go unnoticed.”
Kenhel nodded. “Both I and Avrin have men that will do.”
“Good. We also need to form a taskforce outside the council. We don’t know what snakes we harbor there. I won’t have Relian’s position or happiness threatened. Or mine.”
Avrin tapped his bottom lip. “Who do you see being on this force?”
“You, Kenhel, Relian, Sardon, the informants, and of course, me. We can add more members as we see fit.”
“May I suggest Alegrian, the scribe?” asked Avrin. “He’s young but infinitely loyal to you. He could be the eyes and ears around the palace. Not many would think to be quiet around him. He’s unassuming.”
Talion smiled slowly. “I think he could be just what we need.” His grin faded. “How serious do you think this threat is?”
; Avrin’s solemn brown gaze looked back at him. “Until we know more, that’s a hard question to assess.”
“That was my thinking.” He raked his fingers though his hair, something he only did when he was really agitated. He grimaced and removed his hand. “We need information as soon as possible.”
Avrin laid a hand on his shoulder. “You will have it, my friend, even if I have to get it myself.”
That heartened Talion. If anyone could extract information from a person, it was Avrin. He had many talents that were largely unknown—a definite boon for Talion.
A wave of pain and bone-deep exhaustion hit him. He swayed on his feet, and grabbed onto the thing nearest him—Kenhel.
Avrin and Kenhel placed steadying arms about him. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Just a bit tired.” That was an understatement. All the emotions of the last hour had taken what little energy he had left.
Kenhel gave him a doubtful look. “You don’t look fine.”
“No, he doesn’t,” said Avrin. “Is there something you’d like to share?”
Talion glared at his friends. “I think not.”
Some part of him wanted to confide in them, but his promise to Maggie stopped him. In truth, he dreaded their possible reaction to the news, though he was most concerned about Relian’s. He knew they all liked Maggie. But as the wife of their king? For Avrin, she’d be taking the position his sister used to claim. As for Relian, she’d be his stepmother—one who happened to be thousands of years younger.
While he knew they would publicly accept her, that didn’t mean they would do so privately. Maggie wasn’t as tough as she appeared, and such a rejection would definitely wound her.
A realization socked him in the gut. If his friends and family couldn’t fully support them, how could he expect his people to do so?
***
Maggie glowered at the guitar she strummed. When she’d found one of the music rooms in the palace, she’d thought she’d hit a gold mine. The acoustics were great, not that it mattered with this headache from hell. She tilted her head back and rolled it around, trying to find relief for her tight neck and shoulders. Damn it. Nothing helped. Not even the oh-so-calming silver color of the walls could settle her down.
