Blood and Honor (Forest Kingdom Novels) (35 page)

“That’s enough!” roared the Regent. “Stand where you are, or I’ll have my men open fire!”

Everyone looked at the Regent, and then followed his pointing finger up to the spectators’ gallery that overlooked the Court. The gallery was lined with dozens of archers, each with an arrow ready to fire. The Court grew very still.

“You wouldn’t dare,” said Lewis flatly. “Attacking a prince of the Blood is treason. The nobles would have your head.”

“My position protects me from any such charge,” said William evenly. “While I am Regent, my word is law. Believe me, Lewis, I’m quite ready to order one or all of you killed, if that’s what it takes to prevent a civil war.”

“I don’t know about the rest of you,” said Jordan, “but I believe him.” He ostentatiously took his hand away from his sword, and gestured for his men to put away their weapons. After a pause they did so, Sir Gawaine last of all. Jordan bowed formally to the Regent. “My apologies for a creating a disturbance in this Court.”

“You always were the gracious one, Viktor,” said Count William, “Well, Lewis, Dominic?”

“It’ll be a cold day in hell before I apologize to you,” said Lewis. “I won’t forget this, William.” He turned and walked out of the Court. The Monk and Ironheart followed him, and his guards brought up the rear, still with their swords drawn. Jordan thought for a moment that William would actually order his bowmen to open fire, but he didn’t. Instead he turned to Dominic, who smiled with half his face and inclined his head slightly to the Regent.

“Make the most of your position, William. While it lasts.”

He turned and left the Court, accompanied by his guards. They didn’t sheathe their swords either. Jordan noticed they were careful to leave in a different direction from Lewis. Apparently Dominic didn’t feel ready for a direct conflict just yet. The Regent stood by the empty throne, and for a moment looked very tired and very old. Jordan sympathized with him. Count William was in an impossible situation. No matter who finally claimed the throne, he wouldn’t get any thanks for his Regency. In fact, he’d be lucky to come out of it alive. Apart from his own elemental magic, his only power lay in the castle troops he commanded as Regent. He could of course protect himself by making a deal with one of the princes, but William wouldn’t do that. He was, after all, an honest man. That was why King Malcolm had made him Regent.

Count William raised his head, forcing the tiredness out of his face and stance until he looked once again at the calm, efficient Regent. It was a good performance, and Jordan appreciated it as such. The Lady Gabrielle watched her husband silently, pride and support for him burning in her steady gaze. The Regent formally dismissed the Court, his voice firm and steady. The nobles and the courtiers began to drift away in small clumps, quietly discussing the implications of what they’d witnessed. Jordan gathered his people around him and made a grand exit, bowing and smiling as he went. It was important to keep up appearances, even if everything else was falling apart around him.

Jordan hadn’t said anything to anyone yet, but he was beginning to feel somewhat depressed. For all his time in the castle, he hadn’t really accomplished anything. All right, he’d helped Geordie find his mother, and he’d helped stop an outbreak of the Unreal, but that wasn’t what he was here for. He was supposed to be taking the pressure off Prince Viktor and his conspirators so that they could get on with searching for the missing crown and sword. Instead, all he’d done was attract unwelcome attention, while the crown and seal remained as elusive as ever. Jordan strode ahead of his people, his head bowed and his brow furrowed in thought. He was so distracted he didn’t react at all when someone hailed him as Prince Viktor, and Sir Gawaine had to elbow him smartly in the ribs. Jordan jerked his head up, and smiled belatedly at Catriona Taggert, who stood before him waiting to be noticed.

“Sorry, Steward, I was miles away.”

“I understand,” said Taggert. “I’m sure you’ve got a lot on your mind at the moment. Look, I need to talk to you, Viktor. Right now, in private. It’s very important, I promise you.”

Jordan glanced at Sir Gawaine, who shrugged imperceptibly. Jordan knew what he meant. Of all the people he’d met at Castle Midnight, Taggert was the only one who’d struck him as being at all trustworthy, but he couldn’t honestly say he knew her well enough to be sure of it. She could be bait for a trap set by Lewis or Dominic. They’d love to get him off on his own, away from his protectors. But after all the intrigues and mixed loyalties, Jordan felt an overwhelming need to trust someone, and it might as well be the steward.

“All right,” he said crisply. “Where did you have in mind?”

Count Roderik coughed loudly, to get his attention. Jordan ignored him. Roderik coughed again, louder.

“Nasty cold you’ve got there, Roderik,” said Jordan. “I’d take something for that, if I was you.”

Gawaine stifled something that might have been a chuckle, and Taggert’s mouth twitched.

“If I might remind Your Highness,” said Roderik tightly, “there are urgent matters awaiting your attention. Whatever the steward has to say, I’m sure it can wait.”

“No, it can’t,” said Taggert, her eyes locked on Jordan’s. “There’s a room just down the corridor where we can talk, Viktor.”

“Very well,” said Jordan. “Gawaine, you come with me. You can stand guard outside the door while the steward and I are talking. The rest of you stay here and block off both ends of this corridor. No one gets in or out until we’re finished. Try and keep alert—Lewis or Dominic would quite happily kill all of you, just to get a chance at killing me.”

The steward waited a moment to be sure he’d finished, and then set off briskly down the corridor. Jordan and Gawaine followed after her. Jordan could hear Roderik spluttering with what sounded like pure rage behind him, but he didn’t dare look back to see. He didn’t trust himself to keep a straight face if he did. Taggert led the way to an unobtrusive door tucked away in a shadowy corner. She opened the door with a heavy key on a chain, and gestured for Jordan to enter. He did so, and Taggert went in after him and shut the door behind her. Outside, Sir Gawaine drew his ax and took up his guard.

The room was small and bare, and the walls smelled strongly of fresh whitewash. The only light came from a single candlestub burning in a wall holder. Jordan let his hand drift casually closer to his sword. He trusted Taggart, but there was no point in being foolish. Taggert looked uncertainly at Jordan, as though wondering exactly where to start.

“Just say it right out,” he said gently. “I don’t think either of us have much patience with diplomatic language.”

Taggert smiled suddenly. “You’ve changed a lot since you went into exile, Viktor. You weren’t a bad sort before, for a prince, but after you met Elizabeth and she threw you over, you just fell apart at the seams. No offense.” Jordan nodded to show he’d taken none, and she continued. “At the time, I thought you’d become as bad as your brothers. There’s a well-established streak of instability in your family, you know. Comes from all that inbreeding for Blood in the old days. King Malcolm used to think about that a lot. It worried him.

“We talked quite a bit, your father and me, after my father died. I suppose because my dad and I were the only people in the Court who didn’t play politics. We never have. Our job is too important for that. Anyway, the point is your father trusted me. He told me where to look for his will if anything should … happen to him. So when he died, suddenly, I followed his directions: took the will, and kept it. I agreed with the Regent—you see, I thought neither you nor your brothers were fit to be king. And then I saw you, fighting beside me in the Court and again in the West Wing, and I knew I’d been wrong about you. I’m sorry, Viktor. Here’s the will. It’s yours.”

She reached into her pocket and brought out a single polished ruby. It gleamed darkly on her palm like a single great drop of blood. Jordan looked at Taggert for a long moment, and then took the jewel from her. Their eyes met, and she shrugged and smiled, suddenly embarrassed.

“You stood up well in the West Wing, Viktor. Not everyone can cope with the Unreal—it takes more than ordinary courage. You were scared half out of your mind, but you didn’t let it stop you. Watching you cut a path through the Unreal was like watching your father on a battlefield in his prime. Strong and brave and … royal. I was impressed. We all were. I’ve never listened to the will myself, but I suppose it contains instructions on where to find the crown and seal. If anyone’s going to wear the crown, Viktor, I’d rather it was you. Now, if you’ll excuse me …”

Jordan nodded dazedly, and she hurried out of the room. Sir Gawaine looked in, to make sure everything was all right with Jordan, and then went over to join him. Jordan speechlessly showed him the ruby, and Gawaine nodded slowly.

“Malcolm’s will. You must have made quite an impression on the steward, Your Highness. I haven’t known her to blush and go all tongue-tied since she was in pigtails. Now we’d better get back to the others. I don’t like us being off on our own, away from the guards. And I think the sooner we’ve got that will in a safe place, the better.”

Jordan nodded, and slipped the ruby into one of the hidden pockets in his sleeve. The jewel felt strangely warm, its heat pulsing against his arm like a living thing. He walked out into the corridor with Gawaine at his side, and only then realized he hadn’t even thanked the steward. He looked quickly up and down the corridor, but Taggert was nowhere to be seen. He shrugged unhappily and rejoined his party, and Roderik cursed him in an icy monotone all the way back to Jordan’s suite. Not that Jordan listened to any of it; he had too many other things on his mind. The steward had placed a great deal of trust in him by giving him the will, because she believed the kingdom would be safe in his hands. But it wouldn’t be him on the throne—that fell to Viktor. And Prince Viktor was rather different from the man who was currently playing him. Admittedly, it was hard to tell how different. The man had been deathly ill for some time, and invalids were notorious for their bad temper. And yet …

There is a history of instability in your family
.

Jordan began to wonder if he’d done the right thing in letting Sir Gawaine know he had the will. Gawaine was a good man, no doubt about that, but at bottom the knight was still bound by his oath of loyalty to Viktor. And Jordan was becoming increasingly unsure as to whether Viktor was worthy of such loyalty.

Back in Jordan’s suite, the conspirators watched in silence as Jordan handed the ruby to Prince Viktor. It glowed with a somber crimson light, until Viktor closed his fist around it. He stood before the open fireplace and grinned broadly about him. Heather clung tightly to his arm, almost bursting with pride and happiness. Roderik’s mood had mellowed, and Argent had actually been seen to smile briefly, once or twice. Sir Gawaine stood guard by the door, and though he watched the proceedings closely, his face gave away nothing at all. He’d stopped off on the way back to check that his wife was safe, and Roderik hadn’t wanted to spare the time. Gawaine had had to insist, and neither of them had been polite about it.

Viktor finally settled into his chair again, and Heather perched on the arm, as before. The others pulled up chairs around him, and Viktor spoke the Word of Power that would unlock the ruby’s secrets.

The air before them shimmered and grew vague, and King Malcolm was suddenly standing in the room. Jordan studied the image closely. Unlike the others, this was his first look at King Malcolm of Redhart. The king was tall and muscular, and carried his regal robes well. His dark hair was shot with silver, but still thick and wavy. His eyes were a silvery gray, like Gabrielle, and he had the same harsh-boned face as Lewis and Dominic. His gaze was sharp and commanding, and his mouth was a firm, flat line. He looked like someone who expected others to listen when he spoke. His voice was calm and assured.

“If you’re hearing this, then I am dead. I have no way of knowing how or when my death will occur, but I feel safe in assuming that the Court is currently in a state approaching panic. You will have discovered by now that my crown and seal are missing. I have ordered them hidden.

“I assume you are here, William, as Regent. I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused you, old friend, but I think you understand why it was necessary. According to custom, I should begin my will by declaring which of my sons is to inherit my position, my wealth, and my throne. I choose not to do so. It is my sad opinion that none of my sons are worthy to take my place as king of Redhart.”

The dead king stood silently for a while, frowning unhappily. The conspirators looked at each other and at Viktor, but nobody said anything.

“Lewis has become degenerate. For a time I thought he might follow in my footsteps and continue the conquests I began, but more and more it seems to me that he considers nothing important save the satisfying of his various hungers. Dominic has always been unstable. I had hoped his marriage to the Lady Elizabeth might settle him, but if anything it seems her ambition has only fueled his madness. Of late, I fear Dominic has become dangerously insane. Were he not my youngest son, my last born, I would have had him killed years ago.

“After I lost faith in Lewis, I placed all my hopes in Viktor. He showed real promise—his only faults those of youth and inexperience. But unfortunately, he too encountered the Lady Elizabeth, and she taught him among other things the pleasures of ambition and intrigue. Perhaps his time in Kahalimar will calm his hot blood—but I doubt it. He has already tried to kill Dominic, and no man who would murder his own brother over a lover’s quarrel can be trusted with the throne of Redhart.

“It is time for new Blood. I have therefore given instructions that in the event of my death, a trusted servant is to take my crown and seal and hide them where they will not easily be found. You, William, as Regent, will be forced to proclaim the Rite of Transference, and a new royal line will begin. This will inevitably mean a time of chaos, but that will pass, and Redhart will be the stronger for it. I have no regrets for what I have set in motion. More and more it seems to me that I have done more harm than good in the kingdom which was entrusted to my keeping. Weep no tears at my passing—I am old and tired. I have seen my wife die, and watched my sons grow to be monsters.