A March of Kings by Morgan Rice Page B

sincerest condolences for the death of your father. He was a great man, and a great king. His presence in this chamber, and in this kingdom, will be sorely missed. I think it’s fair to say that this kingdom will never be the same without him. I had known him since the time he could walk, I counseled his father before him, and he was a dear friend to me. We will do everything in our power to find his assassin.”
    Aberthol slowly surveyed them, and Gareth tried not to be paranoid as he saw him looking at him.
    “I have known the lot of you since you were born; I am certain that your father is very proud of you. As much as we would like to give you time to mourn, there are pressing matters of ruling this kingdom that must be addressed. Which is why we have summoned you here today.”
    He cleared his throat.
    “The most pressing matter is our inquiry into your father’s assassination. We will gather a commission to investigate the cause and manner of his death, and to bring the killer to justice. Until we do, I think it is safe to say that no member of this kingdom will sit at ease. Including myself.”
    Gareth could have sworn he saw his eyes stop at him, and he wondered if he were giving him a message. He looked away, trying not to let his mind go there. Gareth’s mind raced, as he scrambled to come up with a plan to divert attention away from him. He needed to frame a killer, and he needed to do it quickly.
    “In the meantime, we sit in a kingdom without a king. It is a restless empire, and this is not a safe place to be. The longer we lack a ruler, the longer others may conspire to seize power, to overthrow the royal court. I needn’t tell you that there are many men that would like to have the throne.”
    He sighed.
    “The law of the Ring holds that the kingship must pass to the firstborn son of the father. In this case, it pains me to add, the firstborn legitimate son—with no offense meant to you, Kendrick.”
    Kendrick bowed his head.
    “None taken, sire.”
    “That would mean then,” Aberthol said, clearing his throat, “that the kingship must pass to Gareth.”
    Gareth felt a thrill at his words. He felt a rush of power beyond what he could describe.
    “But my Liege, what of our sister, Gwendolyn?” Kendrick shot back.
    “Gwendolyn?” Aberthol asked, surprise in his voice.
    “Before our father died,” Kendrick continued, “he told us it was his wish that Gwendolyn should succeed him.”
    Gareth’s face burned red, as the entire council turned and stared at Gwendolyn. She looked down to the ground, distraught, maybe even embarrassed. He assumed she was just putting on a show of humility. She probably wanted to rule even more than he.
    “Is this true, Gwendolyn?” Aberthol asked.
    “It is, my lord,” she answered softly, still looking down. “It is what my father wished. He made me vow to him that I would accept. And I vowed. I wish I hadn’t. I can think of nothing I want less.”
    An excited and disturbed gasp spread amongst the council members, as they turned to each other, clearly caught off guard.
    “A woman has never ruled the kingdom,” Brom said, agitated.
    “Much less a young girl,” Kolk added.
    “If we were to hand over the kingship to a girl,” Kelvin said, “surely the nobles would rebel, would vie for power. It would put us in a position of weakness.”
    “Not to mention the McClouds,” Bradaigh added. “They would attack. They would test us.”
    Aberthol raised a hand, and slowly, they all quieted. He sat there, looking down at the table, lowering his hand, his palm flat on it, and looked like an ancient tree, rooted to the place.
    “Whether the king wished for it or not, it is not for us to say. That is not the issue here. The law is the issue. And legally speaking, our late king’s most unusual choice of an heir was never ratified. And without ratification, it is not law.”
    “But it would have been ratified at the next council meeting!” Kendrick