“I know. I heard someone say that he’d charmed you.”
I narrowly avoid choking.
“I’m assuming you weren’t charmed?”
“Not by Goldsmith. He’s an acquired taste.”
My father chuckles. “Keep him on side for Lennox’s sake, without selling yourself out. So who did charm you?”
I think of Isaac, his dark curls and the glasses he’d worn that I hadn’t seen before. “What do you know of Isaac Everleigh?”
There’s another chuckle. “The kingmaker? He has more charm than Goldsmith and he knows damn well how to use it. He’s intelligent and he listens, which makes him powerful. The only king he’ll make will be himself. He’s ambitious.”
“He’s Goldsmith’s advisor.”
“So Goldsmith has enough in the way of brain cells to keep his enemies close.”
“Is Isaac his enemy?”
“I don’t think they’re friends. You like Isaac?”
“He interests me.”
My father smiles. “It would be nice to see you with someone.”
Automatically, my chest breaks open a little. I know my father is dying. We don’t know how long, and he and my mother have made the decision to try for more treatment in the hope it gives him more time.
Time to see the seasons, once again.
“Why did Ben get the job?”
My father turns to look out of the window rather than at me.
“He’s was the best candidate. And he already knew you.”
How well do you know Ben?
“Have you met his sister?”
“No. But I know of her. Majken. We vetted all of his extended family. Ben’s from good people, Blair. You know that. You spent all your holidays with him when you were a teen and the summer he left to join the army, you didn’t smile.”
I’m silent. My words have been stolen by my father’s knowledge.
“Why appoint Ben if you knew…” I look away because now my father’s gaze is on me and I don’t know how to shield myself.
“Because we knew he’d rather die himself than let anyone hurt you and that’s not me over-exaggerating.”
I turn to meet his eyes, the same as my own. “He left and never came back.”
“I think you can forgive him for why. Ben’s a good man, like his father. You can trust him.”
“Lennox doesn’t.”
“Lennox sees how Ben looks at you and he saw how he looked at you when you were younger. Let Lennox find his own happiness; you concentrate on yours.” He sits back further into the mass of cushions on the chaise, his eyes half-closed.
My mother has told me that he exhausts easily, a tsunami of tiredness overcoming him, drowning.
“I should let you rest.”
