Axel reached for his drink. “Let’s not go there,” he said. “Another question mark for her, Elliot. Who’s next?”
“The Falconer,” Elliot announced.
Axel groaned. “We really left the fun ones to the end, didn’t we?”
“What’s your take on Nova?” Jonas inquired.
Axel shrugged. “Well, she’s clearly got a base loyalty to the Wynyards.”
“I think that’s a bit of a leap,” Jonas said. “Just because she was having an affair with Anders, I don’t think you can interpret that as unswerving loyalty to the entire clan.”
“I’m sorry to bring this up,” Morgan interrupted, “but when Prince Jared made Axel his Edling, didn’t Nova say something about Prince Anders having good reasons not to offer Axel the position?”
“Yes,” Axel confirmed. “Well remembered! And now she’s running around with the Physician and his niece. You might as well put her down as a Jared vote, Elliot.”
“Put her down as a question mark,” Jonas countered. “Nova and I are on pretty good terms. I might just have a little talk with her.”
“Might you just?” Axel wondered how this budding relationship between the Woodsman and the Falconer had slipped his notice.
“Anything for the good of the party,” Jonas said, helping himself to a fresh slug of aquavit.
“Just two names remain on the list,” Elliot said. “The Physician and his niece—now the Poet.”
Axel nodded. “Well, the girl’s a definite vote for Jared. Those two are as thick as thieves. I’m only surprised that he didn’t choose her for his traveling companion.”
Elliot made a note.
“But Elias,” Axel resumed. “Now, he’s another matter entirely. For one thing, I sense he’s concerned about his little prodigy being promoted to the Prince’s Table. Added to which, he owes me a favor.”
“Owes you?” Morgan inquired.
“I’ve covered his back a few times—most recently during the investigation into Anders’s assassination.”
“So he’s a definite vote for you?” Elliot inquired, his pen hovering over his precious list.
Axel shook his head. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. He’s surrounded by Jared fans. Put him down as a question mark and I’ll visit him to see how the land lies.”
“That’s everyone,” Elliot announced. “Shall I tell you exactly how things stand?”
Axel nodded, though he was confident he already had it clear in his head.
“To remind you all,” Elliot said, “Axel needs seven votes to topple Prince Jared and…”
“To take the throne,” Jonas said.
The Woodsman’s words seemed to echo around the chamber. All eyes turned to him.
“Well,” Jonas said, aware of his fellows’ scrutiny. “That’s what this is ultimately about, isn’t it? Removing Prince Jared from power is only the first step.” His eyes met Axel’s. “He made you his Edling so power would naturally move to you.”
Axel said nothing but smiled softly.
Jonas shook his head. “Prince Jared is certainly going to regret not making Prince Edvin his Edling.”
“What I was going to say,” Elliot resumed, shooting a dark look at Jonas, “was that Axel needs seven votes and, by my reckoning, he currently has four definites—his own, you two and Hal—”
“Assuming Hal returns before the vote,” Axel cut in.
“Four votes is not enough,” Jonas said.
Elliot nodded. “On a positive note, Axel, you have only two definite votes against you—Asta and Vera. The other six are all question marks.”
“Fine,” Jonas said. “So we need just three of those, and the job is done.”
“All right, then.” Axel slammed down his drink. “It’s time to go to work!”
Asta’s head felt as if it might explode. The depths of their treachery!
As the door opened, she flung herself into the gallery that ran along the length of the corridor. She felt her body make contact not with the hard wall as she had expected but with something softer. Another body. Confused and fearful, she was about to cry out, but a hand reached over her mouth and pressed hard against her lips, silencing her.
She remained frozen in the clutches of her captor as Jonas and Elliot passed by on their way back along the corridor. Then she heard the door close—all the way this time.
At last, the hand pressed to her mouth grew limp, then fell away. Asta was released and turned slowly—heart in her mouth—to see who was there with her. She was dumbfounded to see Lady Koel move out of the shadowy recess, holding a finger to her lips.
Lady Koel drew down her finger. “You have no need to fear me,” she whispered.
Asta shook her head, unable to speak.
“You heard every word,” Lady Koel continued. “As did I. We must talk about this, as friends.”
“Friends?” Asta managed to rasp.
Lady Koel nodded. “Can you meet me in the morning near the Burning Place at the edge of the fjord?”
Dumbstruck, Asta nodded. But even so, her mind raced—could she really trust Axel’s sister, or was she throwing herself into the path of yet more danger?
Lady Koel smiled at her reassuringly. “I’ll see you there, at the tolling of the treacherous Woodsman’s Bell. Now, off you go. I’ll follow at a discreet distance. I think I’m a little better cut out for subterfuge than you are.”
FOURTEEN
The Palace of the Four Winds, Woodlark
PRINCE JARED STARED QUEASILY AT THE INTRICATE geometric patterns of the tiles beneath his feet. The patterns were dazzling, both in symmetry and color. And they could not have been more different from the simple black-and-white floor tiles in the palace of Archenfield—it seemed almost a crime to walk upon these in rough boots rather than soft slippers. A clock was ticking nearby. The alien sound was mesmerizing to him, and he drew his eyes back to the clock face. It divided up time into the smallest of parcels, allowing the court of Woodlark to mark time’s passing much more closely than did the bells of Archenfield.
Such signs hinted at Woodlark being a far more civilized land than Archenfield, but the rough treatment the Prince and his party had received on their route to the palace had revealed the stark truth of the matter.
Kai and Hal still looked as if they were in a state of shock. Kai stared across the vast hall, his face drained of color, while Hal picked at a dark stain on his sleeve. As members of the Twelve, both were afforded an unquestioned level of respect by the other members of the court and those who dwelled in the settlements beyond. These were men unaccustomed to being jeered at or spat on in the street. Jared knew how difficult it had been for both men to remain stoic in the face of such blatant disrespect. It was testament to the value they all placed on Prince Jared’s meeting with Queen Francesca that they had not lashed out.
His thoughts were cut off by the low groan of the hinges of the heavy wooden door at the end of the corridor, followed by the sound of precise, clicking footsteps. As Princess Ines, Woodlark’s Captain of the Guard, strode toward him, Jared rose from his seat to greet her. Around him, his traveling companions did the same.
Jared was struck by the beauty of Queen Francesca’s eldest daughter, despite her only fleeting smile at him as they exchanged their formal greetings. She was stunning—her features the shocking yet perfect meld of her parents’. She had the same lustrous caramel skin and deep olive eyes as Queen Francesca, combined with the sharp cheekbones and white-blond hair of Prince Willem. Silva, of course, had sported the very same flaxen locks, but that was where the resemblance between the two sisters began and ended. Where Silva had always seemed fundamentally fragile, Ines was possessed of an innate vigor: her muscular yet lithe limbs spoke of days on horseback, hunting and combat training. As if to drive home the impression, Ines was not dressed in one of the pale, floating dresses that had so defined her sister but, instead, in high leather trousers that were bound at the waist with a metal belt cinched beneath an e
merald buckle. A simple cambric shirt completed her ensemble.
“I must confess,” she said, now that the formalities were over, “you are the last person I expected to see in the Palace of the Four Winds.”
“I understand.” Jared nodded. “But, as I would welcome the chance to explain to you and Queen Francesca, events have taken an unprecedented turn since we last met.”
Princess Ines nodded thoughtfully. “I gather that the people of Woodlark failed to extend the welcome you were hoping for.”
Jared frowned to think of it. From the moment they had crossed the border, the riders had been met with hostile glares—as far as anyone in Woodlark was concerned, Archenfield had failed in its promise to protect Princess Silva as one of its own. News of the travelers’ presence had spread like a forest fire, and by the time they had ridden into the town that wrapped around the Palace of the Four Winds, a mob had been lining the streets. It took one lone voice to shout “Go home” for the crowd to surge forward. Hal and Bram had instinctively positioned themselves on either side of Jared so that he and his horse were protected. Kai stood close at hand. All three of his companions had an array of combat techniques to call upon, as required. Still, Jared had tasted the danger of the situation. His party was greatly outnumbered. It would not have taken much for the angry mob to surge forward and pull them from their horses. But, instead, they had merely shouted and spat and thrown scraps of rotten fruit and vegetables at their unwelcome visitors. It had been a far cry indeed from the cheers Jared had received from his own people as he was crowned Prince of All Archenfield.
He shuddered now to think how much worse things might have been had the people of Woodlark known the complete truth about Silva’s death.
“To my surprise, my mother has agreed to see you.” Ines’s voice interrupted his dark reverie. “Please follow me.”
Jared started after her, aware of the others close on his heels. The noise prompted Princess Ines to stop. “I’m sorry if I was unclear. Queen Francesca and I will see you, Prince Jared, but this invitation does not extend to the remainder of your retinue.”
“Of course.” Prince Jared nodded.
Bram hesitated, looking to Hal for guidance. Kai shot Jared a warning look, which his reciprocal stare silenced. But Hal dared to address Ines directly: “Your Highness, forgive my impertinence, but Prince Jared does not take a step without his Bodyguard at his side.”
His words, or perhaps merely his audaciousness, seemed to amuse her. She glanced over Jared’s shoulder to meet Hal’s steady gaze. “Fair enough, Bodyguard. You may follow us inside. But only you.”
As they approached an intricately carved door, Jared’s heart began racing. The last time he had met the Queen had been on the soil of Archenfield and, accordingly, he’d been flanked by Queen Elin and Cousin Axel, among many others. Now he was at the heart of her domain—which seemed so much more sophisticated than his own—and he was, in spite of Hal’s footsteps close behind, essentially on his own. He could feel his heart beating wildly under his ribs as Ines pushed open the door and he caught a glimpse of Queen Francesca, sitting in wait for him.
As Jared briefly paused, attempting to calm himself, he became aware of the pervasive scent of cinnamon and orange blossom emanating from vast incense bowls placed at intervals around the large state room. The scent conjured up a warmth at odds with his reception.
“Your Serene Highness.” Prince Jared bowed low before Queen Francesca.
She nodded her veiled head but did not rise from her seat. This, of course, was her prerogative, but he knew that his mother would have taken umbrage at the slight. Perhaps it was a good thing that she had not accompanied him.
“Please, sit down, Prince Jared.” Queen Francesca’s voice was as bleak and formal as the mourning garb she wore. Her face—what Jared could make out of it beneath the veil—looked tired and pinched. “What prompts you to invade our period of mourning?”
“I am deeply sorry to have done so,” Jared told her. “It is the last thing I would have wanted, but events have forced my hand.”
The Queen smiled bitterly. “Well, seeing as you are here, you had better come to the point, then.”
Ignoring the sourness of her tone, Jared reached into his breast pocket and produced the furled missive from Paddenburg. “This ultimatum was delivered to my court on the eve of my coronation,” he said.
“Of course,” Queen Francesca said. “Since we last saw you, you have been formally crowned Prince of All Archenfield. I suppose we ought to offer you congratulations.” She motioned for him to approach more closely and took the note from him, lifting her veil to read it.
“The Princes of Paddenburg threaten to invade your lands in seven days,” Francesca said when she had finished reading, placing the parchment down, her veil dropping back into place.
“The note was received two days ago.” Jared paused. “So the clock is now ticking fast.”
“What do you, or any of the court of Archenfield, know about clocks?” Francesca snapped. “You still measure your days in archaic bells.”
Jared bit his lip.
“Why have you come to see us?” Ines interrupted, her voice smooth and kinder than her mother’s.
She’d been standing in the shadows. Jared had the sense that she might be willing to support him. From what Axel had said, Ines was a pragmatic politician. Surely this pragmatism would inform her that an invasion of Archenfield by Paddenburg would not be good news for its closest neighbor and former ally? For the first time, he felt faint stirrings of hope.
“He has come to ask us to renew our alliance,” Francesca announced, as Ines took a seat beside her. “The same alliance I burned down to my fingertips in the tarnished palace of Archenfield.” Jared swallowed, the memories of those moments—when Francesca had indeed burned the scroll of parchment the alliance had been written on in front of a shocked court in Archenfield—still etched on his mind.
He took a breath, then plunged in. “I have come to ask you to consider a new alliance with us—with me, as the new ruler of Archenfield.”
Francesca did not respond, but Princess Ines nodded. “I am grateful for your directness,” she said. “It is a quality I appreciate in our allies and one that was not as evident as I might have wished in your brother’s time.”
Jared was taken aback. Was she actually stating a preference for his way of doing things over his brother’s? He could not resist pressing home this advantage. “Although we have just five days in hand, you and I both know that the might of our united armies would conclusively see off the threat from Paddenburg. This would help Archenfield in the short term, but it would also serve to nip in the bud any aggression from Paddenburg toward Woodlark, which we might expect to follow.”
Ines considered his words. “To your first point—yes, working together, our armies would almost certainly defeat Paddenburg. The intelligence from our spies in Paddenburg backs that up.” Her eyes turned colder. “And if you are equally well briefed, why is it that this attack from Paddenburg has taken you and your court by surprise?”
Jared frowned. He knew they were coming to the more difficult matter now. It was time to deviate from any script.
“The Paddenburg Ultimatum does not mark the beginning of a new attack,” he told them. “It was Paddenburg who sought and enacted the assassination of my brother. The ultimatum marks the escalation of their plot.”
Queen Francesca glanced up. “We know all this. The renegade steward poisoned Prince Anders. Must we return to that sorry tale?”
Jared felt cold fear flush through him, but knew he had to tamp it down. “I’m afraid we must revisit this,” he said. “You see… the steward was not, as we initially thought, the assassin. He was caught in a far more complex web and, while we drew false comfort that we had apprehended the culprit, the real assassin remained at large and was therefore able to strike again.”
He could see the effect this information had. He exchanged a discreet look with Hal, then p
ushed on. “Queen Francesca, Princess Ines, one of the reasons I have come today is to correct a lie you were told when you came to Archenfield.”
The air seemed to suddenly chill. “Go on,” Francesca said.
Jared felt the pricking of tears behind his eyes. “Silva did not take her own life out of grief for Anders.” He swallowed. “She was the next victim of the true assassin.” He watched their faces, waiting for the information to sink in. “Silva was murdered on our soil, as part of the same plot from Paddenburg.”
The two women turned toward one another. Even before Francesca spoke, Jared had a terrible sense of foreboding.
“These facts have already been in our possession for several days,” Francesca said, the steel returning to her voice. “I do not intend to tell you how, so spare me the impertinence of asking.” She raised her hands and swept back her veil. Now he saw the undiminished strength within her: the gray shadows he had taken for grief had vanished; her skin was almost as smooth as that of her daughter.
“I’ll grant you this, Prince Jared—you alone of your clan have some strength of character to come and confess to this execrable lie.” Her hard eyes bored into his.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I never wanted to lie to you.”
“I suspect that’s the truth,” Francesca acknowledged. “I’m sure your advisors left you little choice in the matter. That’s what comes of bringing someone so young, inexperienced and vulnerable to the throne.
“You are a young man of some quality,” she added in a softer voice. “It has taken great courage and humility to come here today.”
Princess Ines nodded, then smiled at Jared. This time he sensed genuine warmth emanating from her.
“You journeyed here to ask us a question.” Francesca rose to her feet. “As you say, the combined might of our armies would conclusively see off the threat from the lunatics of Paddenburg.”
Jared’s heart lifted. He was too anxious to breathe.
“Do you really think,” Francesca continued, “that, after all of Archenfield’s heinous crimes, there could ever again be an alliance between your nation and mine?”