He shoved himself away from the table and slowly eased out of his chair, his stiff muscles protesting. His legs and lower back ached after sitting still too long in that ridiculous farce of a meeting.
Turning to face his kirei’s godfather, he found the elderly nobleman frowning down at him. Hazel eyes hard and full of distrust.
“I find it difficult to harbor warm feelings for a man who wished ill on my goddaughter.” Duke Percival kept his voice low—the words clearly meant for Aldric’s ears alone. “I won’t bother mincing words. I don’t trust you, Crow.” The Lord Chancellor’s frown deepened. “I can hardly believe this wedding is truly happening tomorrow.”
That certainly made two of them.
He still couldn’t believe that Seraphina had asked him to stay. Had claimed that she needed him. Looking at her now—determined to ignore him completely—he might have almost believed that strange day in the throne room had been a dream.
Calix materialized at his side in the next moment. “If His Highness had actually wanted your queen dead,” his second hissed, “she would have been dead the moment we arrived here. He’s not the one you should be wary of within this room.”
Duke Percival bristled, tightening his grip on his walking cane. “Nor do I appreciate these rough, plain-speaking men you have brought into Her Majesty’s court,” he muttered, his attention all for Aldric without a single glance spared for Calix. With a sniff, the Lord Chancellor tacked on, “But at least there is that one—Master Fitzjesmaine, is it?—who hassomemanners.”
While Calix laughed, Aldric hooked a thumb toward his half-Kunishi Son and corrected, “That’s Calix Fitzjesmaine. You must be thinking of Kyn, our medic.”
Duke Percival scowled. “It’s impossible to keep you all straight—”
“And what my second meant with that plain speech of his is that the moment I agreed to stay, I became her ally,” Aldric rumbled under his breath, skimming a glance about the chamber as he spoke.
When he spotted his fiancée’s prized peacock, Tiberius Beaumont, strut into the room, he clenched his jaw and looked away, fighting hard against the scowl threatening to claim his features.
“Think what you want about me, Your Grace,” he bit out, “but I don’t mean that woman a lick of harm. Our fates are bound now, for better or worse. I’m not your enemy. Nor hers.”
Lifting his one-eyed gaze to meet the Lord Chancellor’s own, he added with a trace of poorly masked venom, “I hope you’ll pardon my own plain speech, Your Grace, but I’d prefer there to be no further misunderstandings between us.”
For a time, Duke Percival remained silent, as if merely ruminating over his words. But then he lightly tapped the floor twice with his cane, as if to punctuate his own next bit of speech.
“I am of a similar mind, you know. This desire for no further misunderstandings between us. Even so, I will not bother making the usual threats of a father to his future son-in-law on the eve of his wedding.” The Lord Chancellor arched his eyebrow. “I am sure you already know what I would say at any rate.”
Aldric grunted and trailed a glance toward the varhound happily panting at Duke Percival’s side, its tongue lolling and bushy tailwagging. “I’d wager it would be something along the lines of how if I hurt her, you’ll feed me piece by piece to that beast of yours.”
He looked back at the older nobleman and asked, “Am I close?”
A faint smile twitched the corner of the older man’s mouth upward. “Very close, yes. How glad I am to see that we understand one another so well already.”
Chapter three
Seraphina
Despite Alyx’s comforting weight around her shoulders and her godmother’s stalwart presence at her side, her skin still prickled with an awareness of the Crow and him alone.
The weight of his gaze bored into the side of her face. His nearness lingered as he engaged in quiet conference with Master Fitzjesmaine and her godfather.
What could they possibly be discussing?
“Your Majesty,” Father Perero murmured, drawing her attention back his way. With a kind smile on his lips, the Shepherd held out his hand. “Your mercy is a great gift to us all. I merely pray that the Lord will grant you discernment always so that the Enemy cannot use your mercy against you.”
Making an effort to return the holy man’s smile in spite of the trepidation weighing on her heart, Seraphina extended her arm toward him. “Thank you, Father, for both your prayers and your counsel. I am in dire need of both at this time.”
Duchess Edith leaned in to press a kiss against her cheek. “Well, I think you’re doing wonderfully, Your Majesty.” Softer still, she added, “And I am so terribly proud of you.”
Father Perero’s fingers gently alighted upon her wrist; his touch brought the familiar and calming sensation of the Lord’s blessing—warm and bright, like sunlight seeping into her soul.
Seraphina breathed in deep and fought against the desire to let her eyes flutter closed and simply bask in that glow for the rest of the morning. There was still so much she had to do. Another letter to Lothmeer begging her last ally, aside from Drakmor, for aid.
She would certainly need it the moment she betrayed Edmund in favor of Aldric.
Father Perero’s touch lingered for a few moments longer than usual, an odd expression caught somewhere between wonder and relief flickering across his features—so like the look he gave her the night of the assassination attempt, after administering his Truth-Reading.
