Bloodrush (The Scarlet Star Trilogy Book 1) by Ben Galley

voice answered him then, a voice that he had not heard in years, a voice that slithered and rumbled at the same time, a voice from another age.
    ‘What of Hark, High Lord Dizali?’ the voice asked him. He could hear the rustling again, and it chilled him.
    ‘He lies dead and buried, my Queen. Buried in Harker Sheer, according to his wishes.’ Here, Dizali bowed his head, just in case she was somehow watching. Light spilled from under the curtain as something was moved, and a shadow was thrown flat against the marble. Dizali tried to keep his eyes from following it along the floor. ‘A great shame,’ he added.
    ‘A good and powerful man.’
    ‘Yes your Majesty,’ Dizali bowed his head again. He paused for a moment, and then, ‘How may I be of service to my Queen?’
    More rustling. More thumping. He swore he could hear a clicking noise, like a clock, or an impatient drumming of nails, or tapping of toes.
    ‘His murderer. Has he been found?’
    ‘No, your Majesty.’
    ‘And his boy,’ Victorious rumbled.
    ‘I believe his name is Tonmerion, Majesty.’
    ‘I want him brought to me.’
    Dizali bit the inside of his lip, and bit hard. He forced a sad frown, just in case. ‘I am afraid, Majesty, that I cannot do that.’ There was an angry gurgling from the other side of the curtain, so Dizali just kept on talking. ‘It seems that Prime Lord Hark’s last will and testament was very specific indeed. He had a relative, it seemed, in the Kingdom of America, and his wishes were for the boy to be sent to live with her.’ Until the age of eighteen, when he may inherit , or so the lawyer had said. It was amazing what facts can be learnt in the dark corners of taverns.
    ‘Where?’
    Dizali made a show of scratching his head. ‘I am not sure of the details,’ he said, when in fact he knew them back to front, ‘but it seems that the young Hark has been sent to the frontier.’
    ‘And what of his estate in the meantime, Dizali?’ The way Victorious hissed his name, dragging its vowels out with her serpentine tongue, made him shiver. What made him shiver even more was the thread she was teasing out, the very same thread that he had been trying to wrap around his finger for the last fortnight.
    ‘Sealed by law, your Majesty. Untouchable.’
    Victorious took a moment to shuffle around.
    ‘You say that, Dizali,’ she said, ‘as if you had it in mind to touch it.’
    The lord held up a finger. ‘Your Majesty, if I may. There was one item of business I was hoping to discuss with you, if I may. It is regarding the Benches, my Queen.’
    There was a pause, during which Dizali wondered whether she had turned to stone, or turned into ash, or vanished, or any number of things his queen was rumoured to be capable of. So when she spoke, it almost made him jump out of his suit.
    ‘Speak.’
    Dizali took a quick breath to steady himself, and launched into the speech he had been practising in the carriage. ‘The lords are talking, my Queen, about Prime Lord Hark. They speak not just of his death, and its suspicious nature, but of his seat and of his own empire. It seems that several members of the opposition feel that now is the time to seize power. Now, as the Second Lord of the Benches, the party falls into my hands. We are united, Majesty, but the opposition talks, and far too loudly for their words to be considered mere disgruntlement. They have become unsteady in the wake of the Bulldog’s death. Bold. I believe that there must be direction, and soon, before the opposition begins to get ideas.’
    ‘What ideas are these?’
    He took another breath, quick and sharp. ‘Ideas such as splitting his estate between the lords, my Queen, or calling for an election, in the middle of Hark’s term.’
    ‘Havoc.’
    Dizali tried to hide a smile. ‘Havoc, my Queen?’
    ‘I do not take kindly to repeating myself in my own chambers, Lord Dizali,’ thundered Victorious. ‘If Lord Hark is dead, then another must replace him. An