Erik glanced briefly over his shoulder, but otherwise ignored his bodyguard’s silent outburst. “I propose to lead the delegation to Ost myself,” he said. “As soon as possible.”
They all stared.
“You can’t be serious,” Liam said.
“I am perfectly serious. Despite the obvious risks—”
“Obvious risks?” Rig echoed incredulously. “It’s suicide, Erik!”
Highmount tsked. “Let us not be dramatic, Lord Black.”
The look that came over Rig did credit to the family name. Not for the first time, Alix feared her brother might leap across the table and throttle the first counsel.
“I’m afraid I quite agree with the commander general,” said Norvin Gold. “Unless my geography fails me, I don’t see how you mean to reach Harram without crossing enemy lines, of one sort or another. The southern road takes you straight into the arms of the Warlord, and the west into the mountain tribes. Quite frankly, I’m not sure which is worse.”
“I am,” Rig said. “I’ve fought off more than a few tribal raiders in my time. They’re hard enough to defeat when you catch them out in the open, and you want to try your luck on their home territory?” He shook his head. “Suicide.”
“Crossing the mountains in spring is dangerous at the best of times,” Lord Swiftcurrent added. “It’s avalanche season, not to mention those unpredictable springtime blizzards . . .”
Erik listened to it all patiently, hands folded on the table in front of him, gaze shifting levelly between speakers. He’d been prepared for these objections, Alix knew. He’d been through them all with Highmount, probably more than once; he was just waiting for the council to reach the same inescapable conclusions he had.
“Is there any chance we could cross the mountains without the tribes knowing?” Rona Brown asked.
“You might get that lucky once,” Rig said. “Not twice. Even if you somehow managed to make it to Ost, you’d never make it back.”
“What if Omaïd were to send an escort?” Swiftcurrent asked, demonstrating a poor grasp of regional politics.
“That would draw the mountain men like moths to a flame,” Green said. “The tribes take any opportunity to strike at Harrami soldiers. The only hope is to pass unnoticed.”
“Which is exactly what I propose to do,” Erik said. “It will require a small force composed mainly of scouts, relying on stealth. Fortunately, the stealthiest scout in the land happens to be my personal bodyguard.” He didn’t turn around, but Alix felt her skin warming all the same. “What’s more,” Erik said, “she also happens to hail from the Blacklands, and knows the terrain.”
“The foothills aren’t the mountains, Your Majesty,” Alix said, “and I’ve never dared set foot across the border, for obvious reasons.”
“Isn’t this what ambassadors are for?” Lady Stonegate asked, adding wryly, “Or have the Harrami ejected our envoy as well?”
“Lord Sommersdale has devoted an entire year’s worth of diplomacy to this sole matter,” Highmount said. “Visibly, he is not succeeding.”
“Perhaps he should be replaced.”
“A brand-new ambassador, a stranger to Omaïd’s court, to negotiate the most important agreement in the history of our two nations?” Highmount raised his eyebrows.
Her Ladyship sighed. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Aside from which,” Erik said, “the invitation has been made, and it comes from Omaïd himself. Were we to refuse it now . . .”
“So we have no choice,” Rig said. “Wonderful.”
“There is always a choice,” Erik said. “But inaction has consequences, and these must be weighed against the risks.”
“This is not a quandary, my lords,” Highmount said, “it is an opportunity. As you said only moments ago, Lord Black, we are in dire need of military support. This is our chance to get it.”
“But why does it have to be His Majesty?” Alix felt her grip tighten on the back of Erik’s chair. “Surely someone else . . . Lord Green, perhaps . . .”
Highmount was shaking his head before she even finished. “The Harrami are very proud, Your Highness. Anything less than royalty at the head of the delegation would be a slight.”
“Then let me do it,” Liam said. “I’m a member of the royal family, and I’m a lot more expendable than the king. The Wolves are hungry for action anyway.”
“Before you volunteer yourself, brother,” Erik said, “hear me out. We have another task in mind for you.”
Liam’s eyes narrowed. “Why do I think I’m not going to like this?”
“I would indeed have you as my envoy, but not to Ost. I would see you travel to Onnan City to oversee the construction of the fleet.”
Liam’s mouth dropped open. “But that makes no sense! I don’t know the first thing about ships. I’ve never even seen the sea!”
“I need eyes and ears in Ost,” Erik said, “and fortunately, we have an opening. After the ugly incident with Woodvale, the Republicana felt obliged to extend an invitation to me personally, to show there was no ill will.”
“Perfect. You go to Onnan, I’ll go to Harram.”
“I’m afraid that is impossible, Your Highness,” said Highmount. “As I mentioned, the Harrami are”—he cleared his throat—“very proud.”
“Oh, I see.” Colour crept up the back of Liam’s neck. “A half-breed isn’t good enough for them, is that it? But it’s good enough for the Onnani?”
Silence dropped over the hall. Alix squeezed her husband’s shoulder. All around them, lords and ladies acquired an abrupt interest in the grain of the oak table.
“Well, that’s just great,” Liam growled.
“Someone had better find out what’s going on over there,” Rig said. “I can’t emphasise it enough: I need that fleet.”
“You have made that clear,” Erik said. “As to whom, in spite of certain ill-considered intimations to the contrary”—he fired an icy look at his first counsel—“the Onnani are also very proud. As they see it, we are their former imperial masters. We must tread carefully, especially following the incident with Woodvale.”
“His Majesty is right,” Green said. “The Onnani have been staunch allies. If we send a royal delegation to Ost, but not to Onnan City, the Republicana will certainly take offence.”
“So you see,” Erik said, “both of our allies demand royal blood, and I cannot be in two places at once.”
Rig snorted. “Tell me again we aren’t in a quandary, Highmount.”
Erik ignored that. He spread his hands, offering the floor. “You have heard my proposals, my lords. If there are others, now is the time to air them.”
Alix’s mind whirred, searching for something, anything, that might pass for an alternative. She came up empty-handed. Worse, she could tell from the grim expressions around the table that she wasn’t alone. “It’s too dangerous, Your Majesty,” she said feebly.
“I will not deny the risks,” Erik said. “That is why I convened this council. If the stakes were any less, I would have taken the decision myself. Believe me, I would like nothing better than to find another way.”
Raibert Green sighed. “For my part, I cannot offer one, sire, though it pains me to admit.”
“Nor I,” said Norvin Gold, “though if you ask me, our allies are behaving like spoiled children.”
“Spoiled children with a toy we badly need,” Rig said. “Bloody fishmen . . .”
Highmount tsked again. “If Lord Black is quite through indulging himself, are there any other suggestions from the council?” He raised his eyebrows, met only silence. “So we are decided, then?”
“So it would seem,” Gold said, “may the gods help us.”
“Excellent. Then let us discuss the details. First, Onnan.”
“I’m not a diplomat,” Liam said sullenly.
“That is well understood, Your Highness,” said Highmount, “which is why I recommend that you take Lady Brown with you.”
One could say so much with silence. In the ensuing pause, Highmount transmitted three things: One, Liam was going to Onnan whether he liked it or not; two, Highmount didn’t trust him not to cock it up without help; and three, Rona Brown had been bred at court and would hopefully keep the bastard prince from stepping into what Liam typically referred to as a steaming pile of politics.
Gods, Alix wanted to wring his neck.
“What is more,” the first counsel continued, “it will be necessary for you to appoint someone of Onnani stock as your second.”
Rig snorted, offering a soldier’s opinion of political appointments in the military.
“I have a second,” Liam said through gritted teeth. “Ide earned her place. What am I supposed to do, demote her?”
“The symbolism is important.” Erik, at least, had the grace to look uncomfortable. “It will ease your way, I promise you.”
“And just where am I supposed to find an Onnani knight?”
“I have one,” Rig said. “A damned good one too. Former Brownsword. I’m loath to part with him, but he’s yours if you want him. But for the record, this is bollocks.”
“The record so notes,” Erik said dryly.
“Excuse me, Your Majesty,” said a smooth voice. Sirin Grey hadn’t spoken until now; Alix had almost forgotten she was there. Erik’s former intended sat perfectly poised, pale face composed, keen eyes unreadable. “Since we have decided that both you and His Highness will go abroad, might I enquire who will govern the kingdom in your absence?”
A question so fundamental that Alix couldn’t believe it hadn’t occurred to the rest of them until now.
“His Majesty intends to appoint me chancellor,” Highmount said, “to rule in his absence.”
Rig burst out laughing, bleak and humourless, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as though to ward off a terrible headache. The other lords and ladies exchanged glances.
“That is not quite how I put it,” Erik said with a wry look at his first counsel. “I ask that this council serve as advisors to Chancellor Highmount throughout my absence. Decisions of importance will be taken by two thirds majority, not by fiat. The chancellor will not be ruling so much as presiding, much in the way First Speaker Kar presides over the Onnani Republicana.”
“Democracy?” said Lord Gold, looking very much like a man who has just discovered a rat in his soup.
Erik smiled faintly. “I wouldn’t go that far. I have always relied on the wisdom of this council. Chancellor Highmount will do the same.”
Alix pursed her lips to forestall an outburst she would regret. It was so very like Erik to portray all this as a minor affair, a trivial, cosmetic thing. Oh, I’m just abdicating for a while. Don’t fuss about it.
“I will have the details drawn up,” Erik continued, “and delivered to your chambers. Take the evening to read them, carefully. We will reconvene tomorrow, at which point you may address any questions or concerns to Highmount and myself. And now, my lords, all that remains is for me to thank you for your voices in this matter. I trust we are all comfortable with the decisions we have reached here today.”
Comfortable was surely a stretch; the council members looked more dazed than anything, as if they couldn’t quite believe what they’d just agreed to.
Erik rose, indicating the session was over. Chairs scraped across a taut silence. The council members bowed and took their leave. All except Rig and Liam, both of whom hovered over their seats, glaring at their king.
“Godwin,” Alix called, “please seal the doors.”
The four of them stood staring at each other as the guards shuffled out, the rustle of armour echoing off the walls. They waited until the doors sounded with a muted boom. Then they all started talking at once.
“Erik, you can’t—”
“It would have been nice if you’d—”
“Have you lost your—”
“Stop.” Erik raised his hands. When he was certain he commanded silence, he said, “I know you’re angry, but you all know me too well to imagine that I tabled this lightly.”
“You should have warned us,” Rig said. “The Broken Mountains, Erik? You can call it a diplomatic mission all you like, but you’re not fooling anyone. This is nothing less than a stealth incursion into hostile territory.”
“Yes,” Erik said, “it is.”
“Oh good, well I’m glad we cleared that up.” Rig took two ringing strides toward the door before whirling back around. “What are you going to do when you run into some glory-hungry tribesmen looking for easy prey? Not to mention the half a hundred other dangers of a mountain pass in springtime?”
Erik scowled. “Is this Riggard Black lecturing someone on taking calculated risks? You of all people?”
Rig blew out an oath, ran a hand roughly over his beard. “No. The fact is, I don’t see any way around it, either. I just wish it didn’t have to be you. Or my sister.”
“But it does, and we both know it.”
Alix steadied herself against the heavy oak table and drew a deep, calming breath. Erik and her brother were right; there was no alternative, at least none any of them could see. Still . . . “It could hardly be a worse time for you to leave the capital,” she pointed out. “The White Ravens might be broken, but that doesn’t mean we’re out of danger. The nobility is divided.” That was putting it politely. The families that had thrown their lot in with Tom and Roswald Grey had been punished, some of them harshly. Scions in prison, lands confiscated, fines levied . . . Some of them, surely, would be only too happy for a chance at revenge. “What if your enemies use the opportunity of your absence to try to wrest control?”
“Why do you think I’ve delegated so much power to the council? Now each of those lords and ladies has a personal stake in maintaining the current order. If one begins to gain supremacy, he does so at the expense of the rest. They will keep each other in check.”
Or they will ally against you. Alix didn’t bother to say it aloud. Erik knew the risks better than anyone. But here again, he had no choice.
“Let me come with you,” Liam said. “The Pack can protect you.”
Erik shook his head. “We’ve discussed this. I need you in Onnan. That fleet is everything. You must find out what the delay is.”
“How am I supposed to do that? ‘Hey, look, chaps—I see your problem.’” Liam pointed at an imaginary spot in the air. “‘The thing hanging from the other thing is loose, see? There you go—problem solved.’”
“I haven’t told you everything,” Erik said. “There are certain details I did not wish to make public before the council.” He threw a look at Alix.
“Ambassador Corse wasn’t telling us the truth,” she said, keeping her voice low. They were alone, supposedly, but one could never be too careful. The ears at court were notoriously keen. “Not all of it, anyway. His whole manner was off. Whatever’s holding up the fleet, it’s not a technical problem. I’d bet my eyeteeth on it.”
“It’s almost certainly a political issue of some kind,” Erik said.
Liam scowled. “Well, that’s a relief. Here I thought I was being sent to fumble my way through something I know nothing about.”
“You are a prince, Liam. Politics is in your blood. You’ll have to get used to it.”
The anger drained from Liam’s eyes, replaced by a resigned look. “I know. I just wish it didn’t have to be today.”
Erik flashed an anaemic smile. “We all wish a lot of things, brother. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a letter to write to His High Lordship King Omaïd.” Alix started to follow, but Erik waved her off. “You can join me in my study later. The two of you should take some time together.”
There will be little enough to come. The words hung, unspoken, in the air.
Rig swore quietly. “That’s it, then. My king off to try to sneak through enemy territory, my prince exiled to a political viper’s nest, and Albern sodding Highmount left in charge. Did I miss anything?”
“Just those thirty thousand enemy soldiers at our doorstep,” Liam said.
“Blessed Farika.” Rig headed for the door, shaking his head. “We’ll be lucky to last a month.”
* * *
“It isn’t right, Allie,” Liam murmured, touching his forehead to hers. His hands went to her waist, drawing her in until they tangled together. “If I can’t go with you and Erik, then I should at least be at the front. I’m a soldier. I’m not—”
“Yes, you are. And you’ll be fine.” She spoke the words with such conviction that she almost believed them. Almost.
It should be me.
The rebellious thought raced through her mind for only a moment before she wrestled it down. Your duties lie elsewhere, she told herself firmly. You are the king’s bodyguard. Whatever else you might have been, those doors are closed now. The choice had been made. It was as unchangeable as Erik’s decision to go to Harram, as Liam’s adoption of the White name. They had all made their choices, and this was where it had led them.
“You have to believe in yourself,” she said. “If you don’t, they’ll see it, and they’ll take advantage of it. Just remember, you’re a White.”
“Half.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Alix said, struggling to keep the exasperation from her voice. “If anything, they’ll like you better for being a bastard. If there’s one thing the Onnani hate, it’s a haughty Aldenian. Their pride is still recovering from the time they spent as slaves, no matter that it was centuries ago. Your humility will go over well with them. You’ll see.” She smiled. “So long as you don’t call them fishmen.”
Liam groaned softly. “I wish you could come with me. You’re so much better at these things than I am.”
Alix knew she should argue, but she couldn’t.
His lips dropped to her ear. “I don’t know how I’ll even sleep without you.” She felt a gentle tug at her side as Liam pulled at the laces of her undershirt.
“Now?”
“Now. Later. As often as we can. Who knows how long it’ll be until we . . .” The tugging stopped. He stood motionless, his breath uneven in her ears. Alix swallowed against a growing ache in her throat.
“We’ll be fine,” she whispered. A promise or a prayer? If only she knew.
A warm hand slid into the gap in her shirt, along her skin, fingers trailing up the back of her rib cage. His thumb moved over the swell of her breast and found its mark. Alix sucked in a breath.
“Swear you’ll come back to me, Allie.” His fingertips brushed the scar on her back, the one left by the assassin’s dagger. When he spoke again, his voice was ragged. “Swear.”
“I promise.” His thumb moved, and she gasped again. “I swear.”
He let out a long, resigned breath. Then he reached down and swept her legs out from under her, cradling her as easily as if she were a child. “Right, that’s your part done.” He started toward the bed.
She gazed up at him. Mischief pooled in the slate grey of his eyes, a flammable substance about to take light. She shivered with anticipation. “What’s your part?”
“Incentive.”