Chained (Chained Trilogy) by Elise Marion Page B

were still bright and clear, his body still thick with brawn. A warrior in his youth, his sire was still formidable in his old age. “It could be nothing,” he mused. “Merely the grasping machinations of an ambitious family, or simply a wish to see their only daughter married well. However, it could be much and more; that prospect worries me. With the power of Lerrothe at their backs, the Toustains could—”
    “What?” Caden challenged. “Wage war against the crown? Commit treason? Subject their people to an unnecessary string of battles that can only end in death and destruction? Come, Father, you cannot believe that Lord Clarion is so foolish.” It would seem his father was becoming paranoid. “Alemere is one realm joined of three. Dinasdale and Daleraia have been at peace for decades, with no sign of a rift in that peace. Why would the Toustains seek to destroy what you, King Percyvelle, and King Merek worked so hard to build?”
    Theodric shook his head. “You could be right,” he decided, helping himself to a cluster of grapes. “Mayhap, these are only the ramblings of an old man, whose mind grows feeble with age.”
    Caden chuckled. “There is nothing feeble about you, Father. If you wish, I will journey to the cities of Dinasdale and glean what information I can. Would that put your mind at ease?”
    “You are a good son,” Theodric remarked. “When I am gone, you will make a fine lord. Do as you please, I will not ask such a thing of you. A journey to the Isle of Camr itte may soon be in order for your lady mother and I. Sir Bors Goodwin returns from his time there, and has informed me that His Grace’s health is failing. We may soon bury a king.”
    Caden detected a note of sadness in his father’s voice. He knew that Lord Theodric had cultivated a deep and abiding friendship with the man who had forged peace between three realms. Merek Arundel II had ruled Alemere justly and well, and his death would be a terrible blow to the realm. That his son, Prince Rowan, was a spoiled, narcissistic ingrate no more fit to rule a dung heap than an entire kingdom, was also cause for sadness. The future of the kingdom rested in the hands of the worst possible successor, and everyone knew it.
    “I will do this thing for you,” Caden said, allowing a page to fill his goblet with a warm, mulled wine. “If for no other reason than to put your mind at ease. There is no need for you to worry over this union between the Toustains and the Bainards, as well as the death of your friend. I will depart for Dinasdale at first light.”
     
    ***
     
    As he left the now dwindling feast for his tent, Caden happened upon his lady mother. She was bidding Lady Anne Durville good evening when Caden found her near the opening of Lord Durville’s massive tent.
    “Caden,” she said affectionately, taking his arm. “Your father has begun his war stories. As I have heard them all dozens of times, I thought it best to seek my bed for the night. Will you escort me?”
    “Of course. How drunk is he?”
    Lady Victoria laughed. “So drunk, that the boar he slew on his last hunt is now the size of a destrier.”
    Caden shook his head in disbelief. His father’s tales grew taller and taller the more he imbibed. “I think he’s told so many false tales, even he believes them now.”
    The two fell into companionable silence as he led her toward the tent she shared with his father. Lady Victoria had been a great beauty in her youth, and though time had lined her face with age, her body was still lithe and her hair remained a stunning shade of coppery red. The daughter of a knight and a highborn lady of Quaos, Victoria had captured Theodric’s heart. She was the reason, Caden’s father often told him, that he’d been more than willing to make peace with Dinasdale in his father’s stead. He wanted love, passion, and a long life with his lady, not death, destruction, and war.
    That sort of devotion was unknown to Caden. As much