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Chapter twelve

Edmund

“ M ercer Caspar Naari,” the footman announced, shattering the stillness within the king’s study.

King Edmund V of Drakmor jerked his quill away from the document he had been signing and a droplet of ink spattered the parchment in a single, fat plop. He frowned.

The document was ruined.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty…is now a bad time?”

Edmund squinted at the middle-aged man haunting the doorway. Swathed in the rich crimson of the Arathian court and dripping in gold, Caspar Naari looked like a mere merchant, desperate to flaunt his wealth.

But Edmund knew the truth.

Caspar Naari was a noble ambassador straight from the Arathian court, come to woo him.

“No, Mercer Naari. Please, do come in.” Lips pursing, Edmund shoved the ruined document into the hands of his waiting secretary with a terse, “See this document redone, Master Hews. You are dismissed.” To the rest of the room, he specified, “ Everyone is dismissed.”

No doubt Master Hews needed to scurry along and inform the dowager queen that something of import was happening. The Lord forbid Edmund actually deal with a matter of state all by his lonesome.

For the ambassador posing as a merchant, Edmund reserved a far more cordial tone when he asked, “I trust you are enjoying life within Drakmor well enough?”

The ambassador’s arrival to the Drakmori court had been rather serendipitous. The man had arrived just the night before, mere hours after Edmund first received a letter from his own ambassador. Apparently, the Queen of Elmoria wished to invite him to a peace summit and renew their bonds of friendship.

And she was bringing an Oracle with her.

If the King of Arath wished to press his counter-offer, now was his last opportunity to do it.

Ambassador Naari bowed first from the doorway and then again once he reached Edmund’s desk. “I am still growing accustomed to the lack of spice in the food, Your Majesty,” the Arathian confessed with a smile. “But Drakmor’s women more than make up for the blandness of your cuisine. ”

Edmund indulged the ambassador with a chuckle. When the double doors leading out of his study finally clicked shut, he gestured for the Arathian man to take a seat.

He estimated they had exactly seven minutes before his mother, Charlotte Hargrave, arrived. Ready to interfere.

“One can only handle so much spice in their life, to be sure,” Edmund observed. “Of course, I truly doubt you came all this way to discuss our women.”

Lord Naari bowed his head. “Very astute, Your Majesty. I, alas, did not come to discuss the allure of Drakmori women. Though I would be more than happy to revisit the conversation at dinner tonight.”

“Mm.” Edmund waited for the Arathian to get to the point.

“I had rather hoped you had time to consider the offer of humble friendship from my sovereign, King Andreas, presented in His Majesty’s letters.” Lord Naari swept a hand before him. “He hopes you are pleased with his proposal—that his kingdom and yours be united in friendship, bound by a marriage alliance between you and his eldest daughter, Princess Mariana.”

With a sly smile, the Arathian man swiftly tacked on, “Her Highness is quite eager to meet you, I might add.”

“Mm,” Edmund rumbled again. He leaned forward from his comfortable slouch. “And in exchange, His Majesty wishes for me not to send reinforcements to Fort Mysai, correct? He wishes me to break the terms of the treaty Drakmor has held with Elmoria for some two hundred years now? ”

The ambassador smiled once more—a perfectly polite sort of smile. “Surely that treaty was already broken the day Elmoria’s queen humiliated you before all of Avirel, Your Majesty.”

Edmund jerked back to an upright position and seethed, “I was not humiliated. And you would do well to remember that.”

Humiliated? Hardly . He was glad Seraphina de la Croix had been the one to break their betrothal so he did not have to.

Why would he want to marry some thirty-year-old crone ?

No doubt, that silly queen thought she'd delivered to him quite the slap when she announced they were no longer betrothed. As if she had any right to make such a declaration by herself.

Who was she to break a contract that had been understood since they were children? Who was she to simply toss the long-lasting friendship between their kingdoms aside?

The irony that she now needed him should have been delicious.

But the whole affair just left a sour taste on his tongue.

His lawyers assured him the loophole the queen had found in their marital contract was perfectly legal. Which meant she hadn’t violated the terms of the treaty between their kingdoms when she scorned him.

Which meant he, frustratingly , had no good reason to declare war on her himself. Yet.

“My apologies,” the ambassador murmured. “I only meant—”

“I know perfectly well what you meant,” Edmund snapped. “You think just because Elmoria’s monarch has proven herself to lack all honor, that I will follow suit.”

“Not at all—”

“And you could not be more wrong,” Edmund continued, speaking over the Arathian. “Though Elmoria might have no honor left, Drakmor does not suffer from a similar affliction.” Slouching back into his chair, Edmund crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at the man across from him.

“If it is the fear of invoking the ire of the Holy Lothmeeran Empire that is giving you pause in this matter, Your Majesty,” the ambassador delicately suggested next, “then King Andreas wished me to assure you he is prepared to devote some of his own troops to Drakmor. So you might strengthen your northern border against any potential retaliation from Lothmeer.”

“The emperor wouldn’t dare intervene,” Edmund insisted without pause.

Which was true.

The Emperor of Lothmeer, Drakmor and Elmoria’s shared ally, never liked to take sides when it came to political squabbles. But it wasn’t the Lothmeeran Empire he was worried about.

It was the Lord’s Church, which made its home within the bounds of Lothmeer’s borders, which gave him pause. He was a member of the Church, as was Elmoria’s queen.

And he knew the Church and its High Shepherd would take issue with two of its Faithful waging war against one another. The Church could convince the emperor to intervene, should he earn the wrath of the High Shepherd.

And excommunication was sure to follow.

“Or if it is Elmoria’s ire you fear, Your Majesty— ”

“I fear nothing,” Edmund snarled, lest Lord Naari make the mistake of using that word again in his presence.

The ambassador cleared his throat. “Of course, Your Majesty. I only meant that Elmoria no longer has the strength to wage war on two separate fronts. Their navy is, to our knowledge, entirely devoted to blockading our own shores. Drakmor has little to lose and everything to gain from entering this alliance—”

“With a heathen king,” Edmund helpfully finished for the Arathian. “His Majesty does realize I risk excommunication by entering into an alliance with Arath and taking his unholy daughter for a bride, does he not?”

“Ah, I see now,” Lord Naari replied, his smile saccharine. “It is your own Church you fear, Your Majesty.”

Edmund was on his feet at once. “You may leave now, my lord, before your tongue earns you a place in our dungeons.” He narrowed his eyes. “Or worse.”

But the ambassador seemed unruffled by those threats. His demeanor was as calm as ever when he murmured, “Before you make a hasty rejection of my king’s generous offer, Your Majesty, I feel inclined to inform you that not all within the kingdom of Arath worship the Lady Below. I myself am a devout follower of the Lord on High. As is Her Highness, Princess Mariana. It is for this reason she was chosen, out of the king’s many daughters, to be offered to you as a potential bride.”

Edmund’s brow furrowed. “And you did not lead with this news because…?”

Because it was a lie? A clear attempt to pander to him ?

What sort of fool did these Arathians take him for?

“Because we thought you might understand King Andreas would never seek to offend you by presenting an offer your principles would compel you to reject.”

Edmund scoffed, “So, you mean for me to believe this was all a test?”

Before another word could be exchanged between him and the Arathian, the double doors leading into his study swung open to the announcement of, “The Dowager Queen Charlotte.”

Lord Naari rose to his feet and swept into a bow for the dowager queen as she breezed her way into the room.

Edmund offered in dull greeting, “Mother. You are a minute early, I think.”

“Oh?” the dowager queen asked, smiling even though she clearly didn’t follow. “I’m not sure what exactly you’re talking about, darling, but it’s always good to be early, is it not?”

When the doors snapped shut behind her, she turned her attention to the ambassador and greeted him with a warm, “And what a pleasure it is to see you again, Lord Naari.”

“Your beauty, as ever, lights up the room, Your Majesty,” Lord Naari simpered, luring another frown to Edmund’s lips.

Why must he always suffer the sight of men trying to flirt with her? As if she were simply another young lady of the court—rather than his mother .

“What terrible timing, Mother,” Edmund interjected, stopping all that nonsense before it could properly start. “I believe the ambassador was just leaving. ”

“Oh?” Charlotte Hargrave’s eyes widened as if she was truly shocked by that news. “Well…how disappointing. You shall have to sit next to me at dinner, Lord Naari. We can speak properly then.”

Edmund shot the dowager queen a look which his mother ignored, eyes only for the ambassador in that moment.

Lord Naari had the good sense to address him first, at least, when he promised, “I will leave your presence, Your Majesty, and not take up more of your time. But I had hoped to have an answer I might send King Andreas, regarding that…other matter.”

Edmund resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Lord Naari’s attempts to be discreet. As if his mother didn’t already know what they discussed. “Yes, yes. You may tell His Majesty I will consider it.”

“That is all we could hope for,” Lord Naari reassured with another bow before he finally peeled himself away and made for the double doors.

His mother watched the ambassador go, rather like a cat pining after a mouse that had just escaped the grasp of its jaws.

The moment the doors swung shut again, Edmund presented her with the most disapproving expression he could muster. “And what was that?”

His mother shrugged and unclipped her folding fan from her belt. She flicked it open with a sharp snap . “You know I am for an Arathian alliance, darling,” she lazily declared whilst fanning herself.

“Well, if you are so keen, you’re free to marry the King of Arath yourself, you know,” Edmund grumbled while returning to his previous perch. Slumping into his chair, he rubbed his face. “I personally want an opportunity to spar with this Queen of Elmoria before I commit to anything else.”

Flicking a look up at his mother, he added, “We both know that de la Croix woman will back out of this peace summit of hers if she catches wind we are courting Arath.”

“But why would we even bother making the journey to this… peace summit at all? Elmoria can offer us nothing.” The dowager queen laughed—a cold and cruel sound. “Their political power is but a fraction of what it once was. But Arath?” She sighed wistfully, still fanning herself as she did so. “They are a power on the rise—an ally worthy of the Hargrave name.”

Edmund wrinkled his nose. His mother was so short-sighted sometimes. “As I have said,” he repeated himself, making sure his tone left no room for further argument, “I will deal with Elmoria before I negotiate with Arath further. It does not matter what this queen thinks she can or cannot offer us. All that matters is this summit of hers gives me the perfect opportunity to make a fool of Seraphina de la Croix at last. It’s high time she learns why one does not play games with House Hargrave.”

Disgust veritably dripped from the dowager queen’s lips when she shot him a sidelong look and observed, “So this is why you are inviting that…little monster back to court?”

Edmund thinned his lips. “Reading my missives again, Mother?” He shouldn’t have been surprised. “One can only assume you mean my brother. ”

“Half-brother,” she viciously corrected. “For the love of the Lord, never again imply my womb produced that creature .”

Edmund’s eye twitched. “Mother,” he softly voiced under his breath, taking care to enunciate each syllable. “I do not wish to discuss your womb. Ever. Again.”

Snapping her fan shut, the dowager queen continued on as if he had not even spoken when she said, “That monster has not been welcome in my court for fifteen years, and yet you invited him to return without even consulting me first.”

“Because this is not your court, Mother,” Edmund reminded her, back on his feet in a moment. “And you will learn to remember that. Father is dead and I am king now. You continue to live here in the palace out of my good grace and mercy.” Stalking around the desk, he loomed over the woman who had birthed him, raised him, and now undermined him at every turn. Holding her gaze, he whispered, “And I pray you never forget that.”

Edmund was certain his mother was about to argue with him further. But instead, she surprised him with an abrupt laugh and an offhanded comment of, “Oh, darling, do relax. There is no need for us to threaten one another.”

Edmund shot her a sour look and settled himself in a seat on the edge of his desk. He didn’t trust her sudden shift in mood for a moment. “I want your promise, mother.”

“What?” She was all wide-eyed innocence at that.

“I want your promise that you will not interfere with my plans for Elmoria’s queen. You will not interfere with Aldric’s return to court. You will not interfere with my negotiations with Arath.” His voice hardened with each word spoken. “For once in your life, you will not interfere, and you will let me do this on my own. Your promise, mother. I demand it, or you can see yourself out of this room.”

In the wake of his small speech, the dowager queen avoided his gaze. She looked everywhere but at him—the ceiling, the hearth, the windows overlooking the verdant expanse of the palace grounds and the capital of Falwood beyond.

Finally, she breathed a terse, “Fine. You have my promise.” After a pause, she shot him a sidelong look. “Does this mean you are going to reveal to me your grand plan? Or do you intend to leave me in suspense?”

At that question, Edmund smiled. “The latter, I fear. You’ll just have to wait and see.”