The sound of his kirei’s lilting voice jerked him back to the moment when she said, “A fact not known beyond the confines of this room, Your Grace. Will not the people ask prying questions if we publicly hang this man for all the world to see?”
You don’t have to publicly hang him.That’s what he wanted to say.
But he let the words wither on his tongue, unsaid. Better to remain silent in these sorts of things. To appear to have no opinion. No thoughts of one’s own. Let them think he was just a little, scarred brute with no mind and a savage temper. It was better that way.
Better to let people underestimate him until it was entirely too late for them to form a second opinion.
“Master Hasty,” Seraphina called out next, addressing the prisoner directly. The lad lifted his tear-streaked face to look her way. “Why did you leave my balcony doors unlocked that night?”
Silence hung in the air—her only answer for the span of several moments.
Until Sir Arkwright jostled the boy, prompting him to finally stammer, “F-for the gold, Your Majesty. It was…more gold than I’d ever seen in my life.”
Coreto muttered under his breath, “This is utterly ridiculous.”
Aldric silently agreed. But that seemed to be his kirei’s way. She was soft, with a heart that bled for the less fortunate.
Seraphina ignored the duke. “And did you knowwhyyou were being asked to leave the balcony doors unlocked that night?” When the prisoner frowned, clearly confused, she rephrased the question. “Were you aware of any plot against me? Did you wish me dead, Master Hasty?”
“No,” the boy gasped. “I’d never—”
His kirei nodded once and proclaimed, “William Hasty, you are hereby pardoned from execution but sentenced to lifelong exile instead. If you return to Elmorian soil, you will be put to death.” Softer, she added, “Might I suggest you take your new fortune west to the city-states of Fortuna? A man who asks too few questions in pursuit of gold would do well there, I think.”
Aldric thinned his lips and looked about the room, gauging the reactions of the other councilors present. Sir Easome and Sir Arkwright both raised their eyebrows but said nothing. Coreto openly scowled. Olivia chuckled, as if finding all of this amusing. Wellane cleared his throat and blinked his way back to the present.
Only the Umberlys and Father Perero managed to keep their features schooled.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” the lad sobbed while his armed escort dragged him from the room. “Bless you, Your Majesty.”
Eyes burned against the back of Aldric’s neck—Calix. No doubt his Son was trying to get his attention where he stood against the wall behind him like a valet rather than his second-in-command.
But half-Kunishi bastards didn’t warrant a seat at the table with all the fancy lords and ladies, he reckoned.
Rather than turn around to see what the other man wanted, Aldric leaned forward and tried to catch the eye of his fiancée instead.
“Is there a purpose to my being here?” he bluntly rasped, earning himself a sidelong glance from her godmother, Duchess Edith, sitting directly to his left.
He offered her a tight smile in reply.
“Yes, Your Highness,” Seraphina coolly answered, still without deigning to glance his way. As if she couldn’t stand the sight of him.
And who could blame her? He wasn’t pretty like his little brother, Edmund, or her peacock, Lord Tiberius Beaumont.
How sad for her that she had decided to marryhiminstead of one of them.
His kirei continued, “Our Master of Ceremonies—the Viscount of Arlund—has written with news from the front. Thus far, he has been able to keep the Arathian troops from advancing, but he is in desperate need of reinforcements; his lines are thinning with every skirmish.”
Aldric watched as she lifted one of her pale hands from her lap and stroked the sleek scales of her usuru while she spoke.
“The Lord Chancellor has already rallied the north,” Seraphina revealed. “As we speak, Lord Cyneric Umberly rides south for Goldreach. We pray this strange cold front will not impede his journey.”
Duke Percival growled, “A bit of snow and ice has never stopped an Umberly before—”
“But the Count of Wellane and the Duke of Coreto have both requested leave to return to their lands in order to rally their troops in person,” his kirei said, speaking over her godfather. Her gaze slid toward each of the councilors in question as she murmured, “And your requests have both been granted.”
Wellane breathed out a sigh of relief and nodded.
Coreto merely dipped his head in acknowledgment of her words.
