king’s door. He raised a hand to knock, then glanced at one of the guards standing on either side of the door.
“Is His Majesty alone?”
“Yes, my lord. He is now.”
Marston nodded, feeling rage well up in his chest, likeblood from a wound. It had taken him the better part of a turn to prevail upon the king to banish the woman from his court. He had fought to overcome the king’s admirable loyalty to those who served him, he had argued the point on a number of occasions with Gershon Trasker, and if the rumors of Kearney’s love affair with the woman were true—and he felt certain that they were—he had even had to overcome the king’s lingering affection for the woman.
And at long last, that very morning, he had finally seen all of his hard work rewarded. He believed the archminister to be the most dangerous person in the realm. Not only was he certain that she had betrayed the king, but he believed that she had been using what remained of his passion for her to bend him to her will. She had openly defied Kearney’s authority, insulted his guests, and repeatedly offered poor counsel; there was no other explanation for her continued presence in the castle.
He had barely been able to conceal his pleasure when the king ordered Gershon to send her away, and he had been even more pleased later in the morning when she failed to appear at the gate to bid farewell to the dukes of Heneagh, Tremain, and Curgh. Clearly the swordmaster had informed her of Kearney’s decision and even after their audience with the king, Kearney had not changed his mind.
But now, somehow, the woman had been allowed to speak with Kearney in private. There was no telling what she had said or done. She might have seduced or ensorcelled him. Perhaps she had done both. Even before Marston entered the presence chamber, he sensed his victory slipping away.
He knocked once on the door, awaited the king’s reply, then pushed open the door and entered the chamber.
Kearney sat on his throne, his face white as a Qirsi’s save for the bright red spots high on his cheeks.
“Good evening, Your Majesty,” the thane said, bowing.
The king nodded to him. “Lord Shanstead. I take it preparations for your departure go well.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. We ride with first light.”
“I’m grateful to you for making the journey from Thorald,and I appreciate as well your candor and your insight. A lesser man in your position might have sought to undermine my authority, seeing in present circumstance a path to power. As long as I live, the House of Thorald will have a friend on the Oaken Throne.”
Marston bowed a second time. “Thank you, Your Majesty. You honor me, and my people.”
Kearney took a breath, seeming to gather himself. “You should know that I’ve changed my mind about the archminister,” he said, pressing his fingertips together and staring straight ahead. “I realize that you believe she should be sent away, that she’s a danger to the realm and to me. I even understand why you might feel this way. But I’ve come to believe that there are compelling reasons to keep her here with me.” He glanced up at Marston. “And that’s what I intend to do.”
“Can I ask Your Majesty what these reasons might be?”
“No. You’ll just have to trust that I know what I’m doing.”
“I saw the archminister leaving your chamber just now, as I stepped into the corridor. Can you at least tell me if you made this decision in the last few moments?”
The king smiled, as if amused. “You fear that she’s enchanted me?”
“Forgive me, Your Majesty. I was just—”
“It’s all right, Marston. As it happens, I made this decision earlier today and Gershon was with me. I’m not under some Qirsi spell. I’ve done what I feel is best for all concerned, and I trust that if you were in my position, knowing all that I do, you would do the same.”
The thane stared at the floor, trying to control his anger, groping for the right words.
“Is His Majesty alone?”
“Yes, my lord. He is now.”
Marston nodded, feeling rage well up in his chest, likeblood from a wound. It had taken him the better part of a turn to prevail upon the king to banish the woman from his court. He had fought to overcome the king’s admirable loyalty to those who served him, he had argued the point on a number of occasions with Gershon Trasker, and if the rumors of Kearney’s love affair with the woman were true—and he felt certain that they were—he had even had to overcome the king’s lingering affection for the woman.
And at long last, that very morning, he had finally seen all of his hard work rewarded. He believed the archminister to be the most dangerous person in the realm. Not only was he certain that she had betrayed the king, but he believed that she had been using what remained of his passion for her to bend him to her will. She had openly defied Kearney’s authority, insulted his guests, and repeatedly offered poor counsel; there was no other explanation for her continued presence in the castle.
He had barely been able to conceal his pleasure when the king ordered Gershon to send her away, and he had been even more pleased later in the morning when she failed to appear at the gate to bid farewell to the dukes of Heneagh, Tremain, and Curgh. Clearly the swordmaster had informed her of Kearney’s decision and even after their audience with the king, Kearney had not changed his mind.
But now, somehow, the woman had been allowed to speak with Kearney in private. There was no telling what she had said or done. She might have seduced or ensorcelled him. Perhaps she had done both. Even before Marston entered the presence chamber, he sensed his victory slipping away.
He knocked once on the door, awaited the king’s reply, then pushed open the door and entered the chamber.
Kearney sat on his throne, his face white as a Qirsi’s save for the bright red spots high on his cheeks.
“Good evening, Your Majesty,” the thane said, bowing.
The king nodded to him. “Lord Shanstead. I take it preparations for your departure go well.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. We ride with first light.”
“I’m grateful to you for making the journey from Thorald,and I appreciate as well your candor and your insight. A lesser man in your position might have sought to undermine my authority, seeing in present circumstance a path to power. As long as I live, the House of Thorald will have a friend on the Oaken Throne.”
Marston bowed a second time. “Thank you, Your Majesty. You honor me, and my people.”
Kearney took a breath, seeming to gather himself. “You should know that I’ve changed my mind about the archminister,” he said, pressing his fingertips together and staring straight ahead. “I realize that you believe she should be sent away, that she’s a danger to the realm and to me. I even understand why you might feel this way. But I’ve come to believe that there are compelling reasons to keep her here with me.” He glanced up at Marston. “And that’s what I intend to do.”
“Can I ask Your Majesty what these reasons might be?”
“No. You’ll just have to trust that I know what I’m doing.”
“I saw the archminister leaving your chamber just now, as I stepped into the corridor. Can you at least tell me if you made this decision in the last few moments?”
The king smiled, as if amused. “You fear that she’s enchanted me?”
“Forgive me, Your Majesty. I was just—”
“It’s all right, Marston. As it happens, I made this decision earlier today and Gershon was with me. I’m not under some Qirsi spell. I’ve done what I feel is best for all concerned, and I trust that if you were in my position, knowing all that I do, you would do the same.”
The thane stared at the floor, trying to control his anger, groping for the right words.
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