Page 106 of Disillusioned (A Lay of Ruinous Reign #2)
R iou removed his spectacles, breathing on them until they were fogged. Then, he took the lenses to his shirt before placing them back on his nose. “You mean two dozen.” Across the table, he saw John, fidgeting with the large white feather on his quill. “She means two dozen , surely.”
“Two hundred,” Lilac said, shoveling the second handful of hawthorn berries into her mouth, ignoring Piper’s disgusted open-mouthed stare from across the room.
She didn’t intend on starting a war—one could definitely argue France started it for them—but she wasn’t sure what Garin’s brand of Sanguine magic would consider a motion of initiation.
Lilac only knew they would be ready, come what may.
And she required the ability to disobey his command if the need arose.
They hadn’t worked against him in the coat closet, so she’d decided downing half the bag couldn’t hurt.
She hummed, satisfied despite the bittersweet aftertaste.
Swiping her tongue across her teeth to dislodge the berry skins, then pulled the bag shut before tucking it back in her bosom.
Exchanging a glance with John, she slid off the corner of her desk and straightened her stack of research tomes and manuscripts, where a few of the Accords notes she’d left behind remained tucked beneath them .
“Two hundred destriers,” Lilac repeated, pronouncing every syllable for clarity. “Half stored at the stables in Rennes and the other half here.”
Riou pushed his spectacles further up. “We don’t have room to house one hundred horses here. Two dozen at most. That beast your emissary rides nearly takes up two stalls. I hope you’re not expecting breeds of that caliber, either.” Riou took a puff from his long pipe. “If I might speak freely?”
Lilac sauntered over to John’s chair, reading the document over his shoulder. “You may.”
“Maximilian must be crossbreeding like hell down there. I’ve never seen a Freisian or Andalusian quite that tall.”
“Shires?” guessed John.
“Likely not,” Piper quipped. She was perched on the far end of the table, finishing one of the buttered croissants from the plate Isabel had brought. “From what I’d seen out the window, anyway. Huge, magnificent thing, he is.”
Riou tilted his head, squinting appreciatively. “Do I know you, lass?”
“I’ve got distant family in farming and breeding,” replied Piper, dusting the crumbs off her front. “It’s how my parents know the Trécessons. I’m sure our paths have crossed at some point.”
“You might agree, then. In my years of expertise, I’ve never seen anything quite like him.
It’s not an unrecognizable breed, but rather, one with distinctive features of many of them at once.
” Riou’s dark brows furrowed, his olive complexion blanching then reddening as he rubbed his eyes.
“There were rumors, less than a month ago, of a smaller fleet of similar horses. Twenty in approximation, marching behind a hooded leader north of Rennes. A shepherd saw them on a fogged morning from quite a distance and mentioned it at the Stag’s Head, but by the time the local guard went to investigate, no one could find them. ”
“Intriguing.” Garin hadn’t mentioned where Lo?g came from. Too distracted to orchestrate a full lie, she busied herself with examining her nails. “Perhaps they were Maximilian’s, for his court. They were headed southeast, I presume?”
“No, the shepherd said he saw them travelling west. There was no movement of weapons or anything else, just the horses. It wasn’t enough to pursue further. ”
“They were probably for breeding or show,” said Piper quickly. “I’ve heard Krenn Farm has some availability in their stables.”
“Perfect.” Lilac’s eyes widened. “We’ll store them to capacity between Rennes and the castle. Any overflow will be housed at Krenn Farm. If necessary, I’ll see that our treasury funds a stable extension for them.”
Riou had nothing more to refute. He stared at the queen, his thin lips pulling into a ghost of an approving smile.
John stuck his nib between his lips, staining them. He licked the ink away. “Your language is standard, erring on the side of extreme politeness. There’s still no promise their king will agree.”
“We stood beside him for decades. We are known, public allies.” Lilac pointed at the short shelf nearest them. “Any number of those tomes, will tell you when, and how. Which battles. How many won, and how many lost.”
“Understood. He might not send destriers like the one outside, or those seen mobilized out west. He’ll likely send his smaller stock.
Coursers, or Rouncey. Even if he does have the horses to spare and is willing to help, he and his court will have to consider what the implication of perception might be.
They can only keep a fleet of two hundred horses sailing across the channel so secret.
” John’s eyes flitted across the parchment again.
“I’m only advising that we do not count on it. ”
He was right. What Riou had said last week about England’s direct involvement bringing unnecessary consequences—the possibility of France considering it an act of aggression—remained true. They’d have to be careful. She’d have to prepare for denial.
“Send the request. Two hundred as soon as England can provide them. It is my order.” Her chest grew tight as she stared her duty in the eye for what felt like the first time.
The possibility of entering war and the uncertainty that laid in their dependence on sole ally protection.
The rising tensions, both in the east and in her heart.
The pressure of Garin’s teeth and fingers upon her throat. It was paralyzing.
But it was thrilling .
By the looks on her court’s faces, they felt it too. There was nothing more to object.
John stood and slid the parchment across the table to Riou, along with his quill and inkpot. Riou said nothing, mouth tight as he scribbled his signature on the first line. Then he slid it to Lilac and handed her the quill.
She lifted the parchment, reading it over once more.
To the Most Excellent Lord Henry,
With great reverence and utmost faith in our longstanding friendship, I, Eleanor Trécesson of Brittany, send this letter requesting the purchase of two hundred warhorses.
My plea for your assistance comes after reassessing our inventory upon inheriting my father’s monarchy.
It is of utmost importance we remain prepared for any annexation attempt by neighboring realms. Please respond at your earliest convenience.
My treasury will await your correspondence.
Your most generous aid will only strengthen our favorable bond, one I hope to maintain in the years to come.
Given at the Chateau de Trécesson on the Eighteenth Day of the month of May in the year of our Lord, one thousand five hundred thirty-two.
There. Nothing too specific, in case of interception. Nothing inflammatory.
Lilac nodded, placing the nib onto the parchment and moving her fingers, her signature marred by her trembling hand.
Fare thee well as I fare,
Eleanor Trécesson.
She slid it to her left in front of John, who signed the very bottom in his tight scrawl, notarizing it just next to his elaborate stamp.
He stood, wiping his brow and rolling the parchment into a tied scroll. “Is there anything else before I go, Your Majesty?”
“Maximilian’s contract, perhaps?” murmured Riou.
John glared at him, but he looked just as apprehensive.
“Albrecht and I are getting to know each other well. His sovereign’s offers sound entirely promising. The decision will be made in time for my ceremony.” She gave John her hand, and he pecked it. Before he released her, she gave his palm a slight squeeze. “Have faith in me.”
Have faith in me , she’d said. It was a loaded request. What reason did they have to trust her with their lives? They had reason to be nervous as they appeared. She’d never led an army before, never had a father who fronted one… or ever led by virtuous example, really.
But kings didn’t need virtue to win a war, and neither did she.
Lilac had also never married. Didn’t know what it was to be betrothed with a man of her own choosing, didn’t know what it was to be a wife, and was never allowed to attend anyone else’s wedding ceremony. She didn’t know what it was to fall with child, the seed to be sown.
But she had fought and negotiated before, for her own life and those of others. If she could do it in Cinderfell at the mercy of Kestrel, wherever he was, defeat his revenant, overcome a carriage accident and somehow absorb some of Garin’s powers, enthralling herself to him…
If she survived Garin’s hunger and desire— whatever lay beyond desire —then none of that mattered. Then, there was hope.
“Remain discrete. Find our best pigeon and have my treasury ready.”
John clutched his quill and ink box to his chest in horror. “Your Majesty, this kind of correspondence should be hand carried. There is too much risk in delivery by pigeon.”
“How would flight carry more risk than a person travelling by horse and boat? We have perfectly reliable birds in our loft,” Lilac argued. “Hand delivery will take weeks; the bird is much faster.”
“The thing is, anyone suspicious could hunt it down and we’d never know.Your family’s messengers are quick,” Riou reassured her. “They’ll journey discreetly to the northern ports on horseback and find a merchant ship. There are several departures a week, if not per day.”
“Whether your plea is heard depends on your letter’s delivery, Your Majesty,” John added. “I advise you to weigh?—”
“I’m not asking either your advice or permission. Send for my horses by air.” She held their gazes, forcing herself to exhale slowly. This would be far easier with magic.
John dipped his head. “Very well,” was all he said in reply. He scooted his chair back, rose, and shuffled to the door, tipping his hat to Piper on his way out.