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Margaret flung back her free hand to stop Amalie in her tracks...
And the door behind her, which Amalie had cracked open earlier in completion of Margaret's final task, flung wide to reveal Lord Riven, King Thomas, the glowering king of Saxony, the heavily bearded Tsar of Russia, and Emperor Florian himself, all of whom had been waiting behind it.
“My wife,” said Lord Riven with lethal precision, “may be reckless, but she has never in her life been witless...and I’ll thank you never to menace her again.” His own eyes were fully red, with not a hint of brown left to be seen, but he still possessed enough self-control to stand in place, allowing the royals to claim right of precedence and walk into the room before him. “However, if any of you gentlemen required evidence of exactly who was behind the use of this wand in the first place...?” Gently, he removed the long, black, and gnarled Wand of the Woods from within his fitted black dress coat and set it down on the closest empty chair.
“It would never have fit in my reticule,” Margaret pointed out helpfully to Prince Metternich. He stood frozen and gaping at the gathered rulers, her reticule hanging from his hands and already pulled open to reveal only the small pot of rouge that had been King Thomas’s tasteless Damenspende gift for all the ladies that evening...and a second small pot that contained an eyebright infusion of Margaret’s own concoction. “What you failed to note,” she added primly, “was that I may be the one who draws all of the unpleasant gossip and scandalized attention, but my husband and I are actually equal partners in everything we do.”
They might have come to Vienna with separate missions, but they would always be on each other’s side.
“Always.” Lord Riven crossed the room to stand beside her, his eyes still a vivid red. His expression otherwise looked perfectly calm, but Margaret could feel the tension vibrating from his tall figure.
They would have much to discuss later this evening.
Disregarding that marital interplay, King Thomas shook his head with a loud and gusty sigh. “You see, everyone? This wasn’t another damned prank, no matter what anyone”—he glared pointedly at the tsar—“might have claimed about me tonight. I had good reason to drag you all here, and you can’t pretend otherwise!”
“You did,” Tsar Piotr rumbled, his expression deeply troubled. “But Florian...all your words of peace—the promises you made...the entire premise of our conference—”
“Proven false!” The king of Saxony looked positively gleeful at that conclusion. “So much for all your vaunted honor. To invite us all here with those high-minded persuasions only to enact a villainous deception and—”
“Oh, no, not at all!” Margaret forced herself to straighten in her seat as she cut him off—and then winced as multiple irate royal gazes turned upon her. “That is, I beg your pardon, Your Majesty.” She nodded apologetically to the glowering king of Saxony. “But I fear you’re all suffering from a misunderstanding. You see, Prince Metternich did not undertake this scheme upon the orders of Emperor Florian.”
“What?” Tsar Piotr frowned even more deeply, his bushy eyebrows crinkling together. “But...”
“I,” Metternich bit out, “am an Imperial equerry, which no one can deny.”
“Indeed. And yet...” She looked directly at the emperor of Austria, the only ruler who wasn’t scowling at her now. Instead, his expression was perfectly blank as he stood slightly apart from all the rest, as if nothing in this conversation could be of any personal interest to him. “I don’t believe the emperor himself ever gave you those orders. Nor did he even approve of them...and if you don’t believe me, I suggest that one of you ask him that question directly!”
“But—!” the king of Saxony began.
“Oh, come off it, Manfred,” King Thomas snapped. “We all know Florian won’t tell a lie, no matter how much it might benefit him. He’s always been too much of a prig for that.”
“The emperor,” said Metternich, “is famous for his unimpeachable honor.”
Margaret’s eyebrows rose at the startlingly bitter twist that ended that seeming encomium.
But then, for any ambitious Imperial advisor, a ruler who refused to lie could only be a decided disadvantage. After all, a pragmatic willingness for deception could only be of help in pursuing any cunning strategy of the sort that Metternich had so often cooked up for the late empress, according to those old military officers at the last ball.
It was just one more reason why Margaret’s final theory made so much sense...
And when the tsar rumbled, “Well, Florian? Did you order Prince Metternich to deceive us all and cause so much disorder? Or did you, at the very least, approve of him doing so?”
...The emperor’s heavy silence was all the confirmation she needed.
“Aha!” Tsar Piotr visibly relaxed, smoothing down his beard as his big shoulders sagged. “I knew we could rely on you, after all your work for peace. Of course, we must sympathize with the deception that was played upon you in this case. We certainly won’t blame you for any of the attacks directed by this scoundrel.”
“Will we not?” The king of Saxony’s tone was sharp. “The fact that Florian didn’t order or approve of them doesn’t alter the fact that a vampire in his service was allowed to attack all of us, and our guests, again and again across the last two weeks. So long as Florian allows this creature to continue striding about wearing the proud sash of an Imperial equerry, we’ll see for ourselves just how little he cares about the safety of his guests, this peace conference, or his supposed honor!”
“Now, Manfred…” King Thomas’s half-hearted interjection was far too weak to carry.
The tsar’s rejoinder, though, was firm. “That is easily resolved. Florian? All you need do is deal with this traitor now, before us all, and we’ll declare the matter closed. No one beyond this room ever needs to know any of the details, and we may continue the peace conference in good faith from now on.”
“Agreed!” said King Thomas.
Under the other rulers’ expectant gazes, the Saxon king waited a long moment in seething silence...but finally jerked a reluctant nod. “Agreed.”
Chancellor Metternich’s own burning gaze was fixed upon his emperor. “I am no traitor and you know it.” He ground the words out. “All I did was to keep the empire safe!”
“And by that, you mean ‘unchanged,’” Emperor Florian murmured. “But a wise man—my own ancestress’s favorite advisor, in fact—gave me an important piece of guidance when I was first handed a crown. He told me that great sacrifices must be made, from time to time, in pursuit of a greater goal…and for the sake of the empire’s continuation, we must never let our allies or our enemies doubt our strength.”
