by Jeff Wheeler
The door shut behind him, but Sera caught a glimpse of the officers of Law who’d fetched him from his manor in Lockhaven before it closed.
Lord Welles’s hair was fully gray now, and he’d lost some of his vigor, but he was no less imposing.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, striding into the room with a persona of power. He’d been prime minister himself multiple times.
“If you’ll take your seat, Richard,” Durrant said, indicating a chair, “we can begin.”
“Why were officers of Law sent to bring me to a council meeting?” Welles said. “And at such an hour.” He put his hands on the table. His eyes darted to Sera. Did he suspect what she now knew?
“Sit down, Richard,” said Allanom Scott, his expression quite severe.
A sheen of sweat had formed on Welles’s brow. Whatever he was feeling, Sera knew it wasn’t pleasant, but he didn’t hesitate to take his seat.
It was late evening. The empire had brought the war to Kingfountain, and so most of the fighting happened while the empire was asleep. She was weary and tired from the previous days and weeks and months of strenuous work, but this meeting—this reckoning—was long overdue.
Mr. Durrant walked over to a nearby table where two Leerings had been positioned, covered by a sheet. After lifting off the sheet, he hefted one of them—each weighed at least twenty pounds—and carried it over to where Lord Welles sat. The former prime minister looked shocked at first, for these particular Leerings were rarely brought out in public, but his expression settled into a grimace that matched that of the stern stone face in front of him. Mr. Durrant then shifted his attention to the other Leering, which bore the guise of the first empress, Maia, and moved it in front of Sera. The magnitude of the occasion seemed to be weighing heavily on Welles. His brows were creased and his look full of determination.
“Put your hands on the Leering in front of you, if you please,” said Durrant, folding his arms and staring imperiously at Lord Welles.
The Minister of War snorted, leaning back in the chair, as if the Leerings were radiating uncomfortable heat. “What is this about, Durrant? Revenge?”
Sera reached out and put her hand on the one in front of her. The stone was cool to the touch. Comforting. It was her connection to all the leaders who had served before her.
“There are some questions that you must answer,” Sera said in a dignified, formal tone. “And they must be answered truthfully.”
He met her gaze, his lip twitching slightly. “What do you expect you will find, Empress?”
She met his steely eyes with her own firmness. She’d sent thousands of soldiers to their deaths during the war. She’d wept on her pillow until she couldn’t breathe. She was no longer the child this man had manipulated and condemned. She’d seen firsthand what could happen when someone in power trusted the wrong person. The King and Queen of Kingfountain had died for their mistake with General Montpensier.
“Put your hand on the Leering,” she ordered him.
How it must have galled Richard Welles to be forced to obey. Nevertheless, he raised his hand and set it on the stone. His eyes locked with hers as she invoked its power, binding the two Leerings together. His forearm trembled as the magic seized it. He would not be able to let go until she released him.
“Proceed, Mr. Durrant,” Sera said.
“State your true name for the council of peers. I command you to speak truthfully, on pain of death. May the Mysteries enforce this measure.”
Sera had every confidence they would, having seen someone else suffer the ultimate price for lying while touching the Leering. For some people, death was preferable to an uncomfortable truth.
“Richard Foulton Welles,” said the former prime minister disdainfully.
“Are you or have you ever been an agent of General Leon Montpensier or an Espion of Kingfountain?”
Lord Welles sat forward in his chair, a look of outrage on his face. “No!” he thundered angrily. “That you would accuse me of treason is not only preposterous but a grave insult! What possible benefit would it give me to join our enemies in any fashion?”
“You are not accused of treason, Lord Welles,” said Mr. Durrant. He gave Sera a smug nod. He’d expected such an outburst.
Lord Welles, his cheeks twitching, sat back, struggling to regain his composure. “Then why have you put me in this ridiculous position?”
“Are you in league with Lady Corinne, formerly of Pavenham Sky?”
“No,” Welles snapped.
“Were you in league with her in the past?”
“Of course,” he answered. “But only before she was unmasked as a traitor. You can ask any of the officers in the Ministry of War, and they will tell you that I have been relentless in my pursuit of her arrest.”
“We have,” said Mr. Durrant, starting to pace.
“Have what?”
“Have asked your officers. And judging by your business dealings, you and Lord Lawton were partners in many ventures, many schemes.”
“There is no dishonor in that,” Lord Welles said, his face turning red. “I did not profit extensively from any of his military contracts. There was not even a whiff of corruption during my terms of prime minister. Do you accuse me otherwise?”
“Not at all,” said Mr. Durrant. “Your largest source of income is the construction of sky ships. Highly profitable efforts. Not many men can afford to be in that business. You made sure of that.”
Welles was starting to calm down. Recover himself. Sera watched him with interest.
“My business dealings were all within the purview of Law. I know that other men are jealous of me.” He gave Durrant a glare. “But my dealings were all permissible according to the laws at the time. So I ask you once again, why am I sitting here with my hand atop a rock?”
“We’re getting to that,” Durrant said. “We just had a few loose ends to tie up first. While your business dealings were entirely legal, as you said, they were not always ethical.”
“If you are attempting to hold me to the same standard as Brant Fitzroy, bless his memory, then you will find yourself disappointed by me, and nearly every other person in the empire.”
“A truer statement could not have been spoken,” Durrant agreed. “Which brings us to the purpose of this meeting. Did you have an extramarital affair with Pauline Bellisle, wife of Lieutenant Bellisle of the Nineteenth Dragoons?”
The look of shocked surprise on Welles’s face was all the indictment needed. He blinked rapidly, his skin turning pale. He adjusted his posture as a sickly look of shame settled over him.
“It was so long ago,” Welles said, his voice barely audible.
“So you admit it happened?” Mr. Durrant spoke firmly.
“Yes,” came a half-strangled reply.
“The same Mrs. Bellisle who divorced her husband following the affair and is now the wife of Admiral Hatch, who was arrested on charges of espionage months ago?”
“Yes,” Welles ground out. The look of mortification on his face, the swelling anger that followed the confession—both showed he was undone.
“That same madame is a hetaera, we have discovered, and has been in league with Montpensier for many years.”
Lord Welles looked surprised again. “A hetaera?”
“You did not know this?”
“I did not! If I’d suspected her, I would have reported her to the Ministry of Thought for an investigation. I swear it!”
“And did you continue this liaison during either of your terms as prime minister?”
“No! I swear it.”
“No need to swear, Mr. Welles. The Leering will affirm the truth of your words.”
Sera waited for Welles to react to the new title Durrant had used. It was a foreshadowing of what was about to happen. But the man didn’t seem to have heard it. He still seemed to be reeling from the confession he’d made before the other ministers.
“Do you understand why you have been summoned to appear in fr
ont of a council of your peers?” Sera said, speaking at last.
He looked at her and then away. “Because of the charge of adultery,” he said.
“Not only that,” Durrant said. “And as I understand from those assembled here, your voice was the strongest in the impugning of Her Majesty’s character for her brief indiscretion with a young officer. And it was just that: a small indiscretion. Your mistake, on the other hand, was a major lapse of moral judgment. The hetaera, who has been apprehended, had been intercepting correspondence within the Ministry of War for years. A memo she altered led to the demise of Lord Fitzroy, and we can only guess at what other damage she wrought. Had the facts been known sooner, this would have barred you from becoming prime minister.” Mr. Durrant shook his head, walking closer. “The strength of a nation derives from the integrity of its homes. And integrity is measured by conduct, not by professions of honor. Well did the ancients say that no man can purchase his virtue too dear, for it is the only thing whose value must increase with the price it has cost us. Our integrity is never worth so much as when we have parted with our all to keep it.”
“You are a fine one to sermonize,” Lord Welles snapped. “But I never knew of her involvement with the hetaera order. Is that why I am here? So you can gloat over me now? Smother me in platitudes?” The anger in his eyes was fearsome. He rose from his chair, his hand still fixed to the Leering, and turned to Sera. “So this is your revenge, Sera? My, but you’ve been a patient cat to wait this long before showing your claws! You would do anything to bring me down. I saw it in your eyes when you began your rise to power. Beware, daughter of Richard Fitzempress! He was a weak man, and the weak spawn the weak.”
Sera had prepared herself for harsh words. She’d known this wouldn’t be easy. But even still, his words hacked at her like swords.
“How dare you speak to Her Highness in such a way,” said Allanom Scott, rising from his chair, his voice throbbing with outrage. His eyes were full of accusation.
“What is to become of me?” Welles demanded, raging still. He looked at the others in the room, loathing evident on his face. “Am I to be made a martyr to the cause of sanctimoniousness? What if she uncovers your sins next? Hmmm? Yes, I accused her. Yes, I was a hypocrite! But are we not all so? And in this time of bloody and violent war, you would cast down one who has given his blood, sweat, and breath to preserve this empire? After all I have done?”
“Yes,” said Lord Halifax implacably. “Because you knew better, Richard. How many officers have you demoted or discharged for the crime of adultery? How many courts-martial have you presided over while your own conscience surely seared you? Would it not make the empire howl with outrage if you were pardoned while they were made to suffer?”
“I didn’t know she was a hetaera!” Welles pleaded.
“We suspected that,” said Lord Prentice. “We know it for sure now that you’ve said it while touching the Leering. Otherwise, you’d be facing a more serious judgment.”
Sera removed her hand from the Leering, and the power binding him fell away. Welles’s shoulders sagged as he pulled his shaky hand away from the stone.
“Mr. Durrant wasn’t trying to preach to you,” Sera said. “He was trying to help you see why we were doing this. In the middle of a war. In a time when we need you most. To prove to you, as well as to our ancestors, that we prize integrity above all. We will not part from it, no matter what the cost. To us . . . or to you. And what you’ve done has injured the empire deeply and cost people their lives.”
Sera took in a deep breath. “Richard Foulton Welles, you are hereby stripped of your lands and titles. Your businesses will be forfeit to the crown. You are stripped of your admiral’s pension forthwith.”
She watched him flinch with each pronouncement. There was no feeling of animosity toward him. In fact, she pitied the man.
“Because of your age and the unlikelihood that you will find suitable work, you will be granted a midshipman’s pension. You are hereby banished from Lockhaven and from owning or piloting a sky ship. News of your disgrace will be published in the gazettes tomorrow morning.”
“Please,” Welles said, trembling, his eyes watering. “Can you not . . . ?” His words choked off. Then he stopped. Whatever he would have pleaded for, he fell silent. He hung his head in misery. The look he gave her, she would never forget it. He’d aged a dozen years during the brief interview. She watched him leave, beaten and disgraced, and took no pleasure from it.
After the door shut, she turned to Mr. Durrant. “Prime Minister, I’d like officers to escort him from Lockhaven and ensure he does no harm to himself. Also, have someone keep watch on him for the next few months. Our enemies may attempt to win his allegiance.”
“As you’ve commanded, so it will be done,” Durrant said, nodding. “Well, gentlemen. Thank you for joining us this evening. We will announce our decision at the privy council meeting at sunrise.”
The other lords rose from their seats, looking weary and haggard. Sera thought Lord Prentice also looked a little guilty.
Allanom Scott approached her and clasped her hand. “Nearly all men can withstand adversity,” he said with a sniff. “But if you want to test a man’s character, give him power. Perhaps that is why we need more women to rule over us.”
“Will he be all right, do you think?” Sera asked.
Allanom sighed. “He has nothing left to lose. That will either make him meek . . . or depraved. I will look in on him in a few weeks. See which direction he may be leaning. With your permission, of course?”
“You have it,” Sera said with admiration. She knew the man did not care much for Welles—his request sprang from a genuine wish to help guide the other man toward virtue. “Good night.”
He followed the others out of the chamber, leaving her alone with Mr. Durrant.
“Well done, Sera,” he said, dropping into his seat at the council table. His shoulders drooped as well.
“We could have humiliated him in front of the entire privy council,” Sera said.
Durrant nodded wearily. “I think this was the most appropriate, given the circumstances.”
“With his fall, there is now an opening in the peerage,” Sera continued. She gave him a meaningful look.
“What?” he said with a chuckle. “Lord Durrant?”
“I think you have more than earned it,” Sera continued. “I would like you to draft up the papers.”
His lips pressed together, and he drummed his fingers on the table. “I must obey you in all things, Sera, save this.” He shook his head no. “I will not be made a noble. By you or anyone.” A sly smile crossed his mouth. “It would ruin my reputation with the masses.”
“You’re serious?”
“Quite. Although I appreciate the gesture. And while I am exhausted, I’m not addled. I thought you might attempt something like this. I had a little speech prepared, but I find I can’t recall it at the moment. I’ll look it up when I get home and recite it to you in the morning.”
His manners had always made her laugh. “Why have you never married, Durrant?”
“I am nearing sixty, Your Majesty. Ugly and balding, too, and I have yet to find a woman who’s willing to put up with my recalcitrant ways. No, I’m not a fit husband for anyone, I think. But I am fit to be your prime minister. If you’ll still have me.”
“I depend on you,” Sera said, and meant it. They’d been through the forge together. Through trials and missed chances. He’d worked tirelessly on her behalf in waging an all-out war against the traitor Montpensier, who’d usurped power from her husband’s family. She glanced down at the ring on her finger, which brought a stab of melancholy. Trevon was alive, or so she’d heard, but no doubt he was locked away in a dungeon somewhere. How that must smart for a man who so loved to travel, to see every part of his world.
Forcing the dark thoughts away, she looked at Durrant once more. “I’m grateful we finally caught the spy Montpensier sent. Who would have thought? Admiral Hatch
’s wife has been a hetaera all along.”
Durrant nodded. “She won’t reveal where the poisoner school is located.”
Sera sighed. “At least we’ve learned it’s not in Pisan, but it could truly be anywhere in their kingdom. This war might carry on for years before we locate it. If only we could find the Cruciger orb.”
“Probably the very reason it was stolen,” chuckled Durrant. “Get some rest. You look weary, and tomorrow will be an especially trying day.”
“Why do you say that? Is there news you haven’t told me?” The weight on her shoulders bore down even more.
“Yes.” He paused a moment, his eyes twinkling. “Your mother wants to see you.”
CHAPTER SIX
PRINCE KASDAN
With so many matters of intense importance to address, Sera didn’t see how a meeting with her mother could possibly rank. Her mother always seemed to want something—to be added to the privy council, to have her stipend increased, or to complain about some wrong done to her by a petty aristocrat. It exasperated Sera to no end, but Durrant reminded her it had been a long time since she had last spoken to her mother. He was right, which was how she found herself agreeing to dine with her mother the following night.
Durrant nodded his approval and promised to see to the arrangements.
Thoughts about the impending meal were quickly driven from Sera’s mind the next morning as she began the daily onslaught of meetings and obligations. Though she was always quick to make her wishes known, she allowed the officials she’d chosen a good deal of autonomy in how they fulfilled them. Things happened too quickly in war, and she didn’t want Admiral Grant, the new lord high admiral, to feel he had to wait for orders if a situation called for an immediate reaction.
So many times it felt that victory was at her fingertips, only for a fluctuation of the weather or the ineptitude of a less seasoned officer to get in the way. Though the rift she’d created between the two worlds had given her a decided advantage—they could use it to fly into Kingfountain, but their enemy was forced to rely on the dwindling number of mirror gates—Montpensier’s underwater ships continued to elude her fleet. Sera lived in a constant state of anxiety from one day to the next. Casualties continued to escalate, and she suspected she lost a soldier for every one or two who were killed on the other side. It was a grisly arithmetic.
