Page 58

Glindenbrooke, Montrose and Sutton stay their swords and raise their free hands, each wearing an expression of disbelief and defeat.

The truth of what’s happening here tonight is obviously starting to dawn on them.

They’ve been out strategised and out played.

However, it would seem his fury is interfering with Greythorne’s cognitive abilities, as what’s happening obviously hasn’t fully dawned on him yet.

“I declare this marriage null and void,” he shouts, as he glares at the prince.

“If you are the Prince of Ellerban then you must be the one who is weak of mind, as I have it on good authority Prince Mikil has declared himself king due to his brother either being dead or mad.”

My heart jumps to my throat at his words and Aaran glances at me, his question clear – should he just run his sword through Greythorne now and shut him up? I give an almost imperceptible shake of my head, “not yet.”

To his credit the prince barely flinches at Greythorne’s words despite the pain I know they cause him.

“You are unfit to enter into a marriage,” Greythorne spits, “especially to an Ardvallan queen!”

I can see the prince trying to compose himself and I speak before Greythorne can throw another verbal dagger his way.

“Prince Ronan has spent a number of weeks in my company,” I declare, injecting as much authority into my voice as possible, “and I deem him a most capable and honourable man, in full control of his mental faculties. That tragedy has befallen him, and he has suffered great personal loss, simply renders him hostage to the rigors of grief as opposed to the vagaries of mental instability.”

A hushed gasp ripples around the room. Greythorne’s face twists further with rage and bitterness, the reality of what’s happening obviously starting to sink in. “And is he fit for breeding?” he sneers.

I raise my head just a touch higher and allow myself a satisfied smile. “He most certainly is,” I announce, “I’ve never seen a man’s seed turn such a vibrant colour of blue. I am in no doubt I shall be with child by the next full moon, if I am not already so.”

My last sentence delivers the killer blow to Greythorne and I see in his eyes the point at which he changes tack.

He looks at the prince, Aaran and Barra and then at Deana, the Khaleeni warrior holding her dagger to his throat.

“Point your blades at me all you like,” he says through gritted teeth, “but my men will have this castle overrun by dawn.”

It’s time for me to deliver my final blow.

“Oh, I doubt that,” I inform him as I walk toward the prince.

“I’d say they’ve finished all the ale I gifted them by now and are sleeping soundly from the valerium I had added to it.

I imagine it will be sometime before they waken, and when they do so they will find themselves without weapons and surrounded by my soldiers. ”

I stand beside the prince and watch as Greythorne finally realises the extent to which he has been out played.

Rage pulses through him and he goes to raise his sword, but Deana tightens her dagger to his neck and Aaran and Barra place the tips of their swords on his chest. Finally, he realises it’s over and he throws back his head and fills the Grand Hall with an enraged roar.

“You’ll pay for this, bitch!” he screams at me before Aaran jumps over the table and elbows him in the throat.

“Never address the Queen in such a manner again,” Aaran warns him in a voice of pure ice, “or I shall cut your tongue out and feed it to the castle rats.”

A shocked gasp ripples around the hall as Greythorne struggles to catch his breath.

I link my arm through the prince’s. “Come, my Prince,” I say in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, “join me and take your rightful place at my side.”

We proceed to the table and I invite the prince to sit on the throne beside mine. Barra sits next to him and Aaran sits in the empty seat beside me.

“And now to the official duties of the evening,” I announce, as all eyes in the room stare at me, wondering what is coming next.

I turn to face the end of the table where Greythorne and his collaborators are being held by various members of the Khaleeni.

“Lord Montrose,” I declare, my voice dripping with contempt, “for the crime of importation of outsiders to the realm of Ardvalla with the purpose of enslavement, your lands, fortune and castle are forfeit to the crown.”

Montrose looks stricken, as if I’ve struck him with a sword, and grabs the table for support. “You can’t do this,” he croaks as the assembled lords and ladies look on in shock and horror.

“Oh, I’m afraid I can,” I inform him, “and furthermore, I award your lands, fortune and castle to a person you saw fit to bring to the realm against her will, enslave her and use for your own personal gratification. From this moment forth they belong to a woman I know simply as Kes. Such was the extent of injury caused by you, she can’t remember the rest of her name or from what land she comes.

She is the commander of my own private guard, the Khaleeni, and from this day forth will also hold the title Lady of Donnybrook Castle. ”

I’m not sure who looks more shocked at this announcement, Montrose or Kes. I give her a small smile but all she manages in response is a slight inclination of her head.

“And now to Lords Glindenbrooke, Montrose, Sutton and Bottomleigh, for the crime of conspiracy against the crown you are to be stripped of your titles and imprisoned in the castle dungeons for an unspecified amount of time. On completion of your imprisonment you shall leave the realm of Ardvalla, never to set foot in your homeland again. To do so will result in a kill on sight order.”

At this stage it would seem the assembled crowd are past gasping and are in a perpetual state of shock.

I continue, “Lord Greythorne, for the crimes of leading a conspiracy against the crown and threatening war, you shall be stripped of your title. Your lands are forfeit to the crown and you are to be hanged tomorrow as the sun sets at the gallows on Traitor’s Hill.”

It seems I was wrong about the crowd being out of gasps as a shocked gasp reverberates around the hall like the vibration from a large drum, and some of the ladies even cry out in distress.

It’s been a long time since anyone was sent to the gallows in Ardvalla and I am loath to do it, but I think of Aurora and her baby and I can’t think of anyone who deserves to hang more than Greythorne.

He looks at me with pure venom in his eyes and opens his mouth to say something when Aaran starts to rise from his seat.

Greythorne shuts his mouth and contents himself with spewing his hatred for me from his eyes.

Aaran slowly sits back down but doesn’t take his eyes off Greythorne, and judging by the antipathy radiating off him, I wonder if Greythorne will even make it to the gallows.

“That concludes the official duties for this evening,” I declare, as I pause to take a deep breath for the last announcement of the night, “all that remains now is for me to declare that my husband, Prince Ronan of Ellerban and its rightful king, shall be crowned king of Ardvalla a week from today.”

A low murmur moves through the hall.

“And on that day, his two commanders, Aaran of The Dark Forest and Barra of Anillean will be officially declared my royal consorts. This means they will stand in for the king in all things in the event of his absence. I therefore declare from that day forth, any Ardvallan woman who so wishes, may engage in a relationship or marriage with a man from outside the realm as long as he is a man of good character and proves his seed is good. Furthermore, she may engage in a relationship with others, if she so wishes, as long as it causes no hurt to her marriage. Full responsibility is to be taken by all parties involved for any children who may result from these unions.”

Silence.

“Now, I invite you to join me in the celebration of my marriage. Please, eat, drink and be merry.”

I give a wave of my hand and the Khaleeni remove Greythorne and his collaborators from the Hall. I take my seat and know instantly from the stiffness of the prince’s posture that Greythorne’s words about Prince Mikil have hit a nerve.

I place my hand on his arm. “Ronan,” I say in a soft voice, “are you all right? You seem troubled.”

He takes my hand and kisses the back of it. “What Greythorne said about my brother, I can’t help wondering if it’s true.”

A pang of guilt thrums low in my abdomen.

I probably should have told him what I knew prior to tonight’s banquet, but he’d been so peaceful since we returned from the hunting lodge that I hadn’t wanted to cause him upset again so soon.

Also, I needed him to be as strong as possible for this evening and didn’t want to risk him breaking down again before I could publicly present him as my husband.

I’d known there was a chance someone would blurt out about Prince Mikil declaring himself king, but I had played the odds of it not happening.

This was the one thing I played this night and didn’t win.

I just hope it doesn’t cost me too much in terms of losing the prince’s trust.

I tighten my fingers around his hand. “I believe it is.”

His head turns in shock to look at me and I inwardly cringe at the hurt in his voice when he speaks. “You knew about it?” he asks and there’s a hint of accusation in his tone. “You knew about it and didn’t tell me?”

I look at him and feel the guilt grow like a dark fungus that threatens to choke me from the inside out as I see fresh pain and confusion in his eyes.

“I only recently became aware of this information, Ronan,” I explain, keeping my voice calm and steady.

“There is much we need to discuss, but first we must get through this banquet.”

He is silent for a few moments, but when he speaks it’s in a voice that will hear no argument. “I will finish this glass of wine, Elinor, and then we are leaving. We shall return to your chambers and you will tell me what you know.”

I simply take a hearty drink of my wine and nod. I quickly glance at Aaran and he gives a slight nod too, letting me know he heard what the prince said and understands what he must do.

The minstrels have just started their entertainment when I rise from my throne and declare that I must leave.

I invite all my guests to stay and enjoy the festivities.

I then take the prince’s arm and walk down the center of the hall, flanked by Aaran and Barra.

I can’t help noticing the envious glances of more than one Ardvallan lady as I pass.

I might have enjoyed them more if my heart wasn’t in my throat at the prospects of the conversation I must now have with the prince.

The one small consolation I have is the fact Aaran and Barra will be at my side as I do so.