Wielder of Tiren (The Raven Chronicles Book 3) (8 page)

Chapter Sixteen

S
era shifted. It was one thing to be watched at court. She was used to that. But having eyes on her here was different. Some were making sure she behaved. Others were hoping she wouldn’t.

              And Hala’s dad, Hugh, was always watching now. She understood why. Kial was in danger; her mom was playing at politics. For a woman who claimed to hate the game, her mother played it exceedingly well. She was beyond corruption, for one. Which meant people were either nice because they really liked her, or feared her. Some of that carried over to Sera in Almair. She knew at least half of her ‘friends’ were nice to her only because of who her mother was. Who her grandfather was.

              But right now, all Sera wanted was time with Kial. Alone. They hadn’t had the chance to sit and talk about the future, about what he’d learned about himself and his parentage. She knew he was determined to deny the magic should it be offered to him. And she knew he’d hold to that choice.

              They walked through a corridor, the four of them, when the idea hit her. Hala and Hugh were ahead of them, talking. Her friend worshipped her father, treasured the time together much like Sera had when Joss had visited her each summer. Hala deserved some real alone time with her father, Sera rationalized. And she knew just how to give it to her.

              They rounded a corner and came into a construction zone. Workers moved about in a flurry. The hallway echoed with the pounding of hammers, the rhythmic sound of a sawblade eating away at a wooden board. She waited for Hugh and Hala to stop
, her friend’s father pointing
toward some obscure detail in what they were doing. Sera looked up at Kial, put a single finger to her lips, and pulled on his hand as she darted toward an open door.

              She closed the door behind them, trying hard not to giggle. Kial looked at her, confusion on his face. “What are you doing, Sera?” he asked. “Hugh’s going to be busting down that door any minute looking for us!”

              She wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him tight. Nestling her head under his chin, she whispered, “I don’t care. I’m tired of being watched all the time. I needed to be alone with you.”

              He reached down and raised her chin up to face him. “I know the feeling. But we can’t just run off like this.”

              She placed a finger on his lips, “Shh. I know this won’t be for long. And that Mother will chide me for it later, but that’s not what I care about right now.” She stood up on her toes to kiss him.

              The feel of his lips as he returned her kiss drove any thought of danger or intrigue from her mind. Kial was all that mattered. Him and their future together. Let her mother play at being related to a God. She didn’t care.

              “Ah, to be young and in love again.” A male voice invaded her mind. She broke away from the kiss, but not Kial’s embrace.

              An older man sat in a chair on the far side of the room. Sera hadn’t bothered to look around and make sure they were alone. She’d seen him before, but didn’t remember where. From the way Kial’s arm tensed around her, he knew who it was.

              “We’re sorry to intrude, Your Excellency. We’ll leave you to your thoughts.” Kial began to lead Sera toward the door.

              “Nonsense!” The man rose from his chair, crossing the room toward them. “I knew your mother well, Sera. I raised her when she had nowhere to go. In some ways, I’m your grandfather as well.”

              A knot formed in her stomach as she remembered the man who greeted them. The one her mother sparred with. The one whose son tried to break her.

              She raised her chin, “I know who you are. And what you and your son have done to my family. You are no relation to me.” She hoped the tone of her voice was enough to scare him.

              Curtis sighed. “Come now, child. There’s two sides to every story. Certainly you’re not so filled with hate for me already that you’re not willing to hear an old man out?” He stopped in front of them. Sera’s grip around Kial’s waist grew tighter.

              “There’s nothing you can tell us that would convince me that you had her best interests at heart. We are expected elsewhere. If you’ll pardon us,” she dipped in a very small curtsy and moved toward the door.

              A hand grabbed her arm, restraining her. His fingers were ice cold, even through the thick velvet of her dress. “No, I don’t believe I will. It’s long past time the three of us got to know each other better.”

              Sera turned and looked Curtis in the eyes. In them, she saw what her mother warned her about. The depth of evil, of hatred, within them made her shiver.
Mother, forgive me,
she thought
. I should’ve listened to your warnings.

             
“Let go of her,” Kial’s voice was barely above a whisper.

              Curtis’ smile didn’t reach his eyes, scaring Sera even more. “Of course. I never meant to harm her. Or her mother. It does amaze me,”
he said, his head turning as he looked at
the two of them, “just how much like your parents you two are. It’s like looking into a mirror and seeing the past reborn.” He moved a step closer. “But why relive the past, when we could work together and change the future?”

              Sera swallowed hard, unable to speak. The idea that this place was dangero
us was finally sinking into
her mind. And she began to regret insisting on coming with them on this trip. Visiting her grandfather suddenly had a lot more appeal than it had before.

A slight popping sound broke the tension as a panel moved from the wall. A figure, hooded and cloaked, entered the room.

              “Curtis, Court has been called. You have to go now or…” the newcomer stopped and pulled back his hood. Pale blonde hair—almost white—and piercing blue eyes stood out from the scarred face. The gaze focused on Kial with an intensity that terrified Sera even more.

              “I’m sure we’re expected as well,” Kial’s voice waivered. He saw the resemblance as much as Sera did.

              Senyan stepped forward. “No. I don’t think you will be,” his voice was steady, cold. “Curtis, leave us.” He kept his gaze on Sera and Kial, never breaking focus. “Go do what you must to win the crown you covet. It’s long past time that I become acquainted with my son and the person he thinks he loves.”

              Sera saw the depth of madness and hatred in his eyes. For the first time, she realized that the stories she’d heard weren’t exaggerated. Everything her parents had told her, the stories that circulated around the Almair court, suddenly became plausible. The elf standing before her was capable of unspeakable deeds. Willing, even, to do them without blinking. And she regretted ever leaving Hugh and Hala.

Chapter Seventeen

A
rwenna sat in a chair to the right of the throne. Her black
dress was cut
to expose the Mark of Hauk on her left shoulder. Godric wanted her to make her presence known, her position clear.

              The parchment he’d given her that morning remained tucked up her left sleeve, the corners poking her as she fidgeted in her chair. She hadn’t broken the seal and read it. If it was necessary, she’d learn about it when she opened it in front of everyone. Otherwise, she’d read it after Ramberti was crowned.

              “You need to be still, Sister,” Y’Dürkie’s voice rumbled from behind her. “All vill be vell.”

              Arwenna scanned the crowd. Liam was easy to spot, but she wasn’t finding the rest. “Where’s Hugh and Hala? I don’t see them. Or Sera and Kial for that matter.”

              “I do not see them either. Vait. I see Hugh. He is vavink at me. I vill find out vhat is goink on.”

              Y’Dürkie must’ve motioned to Liam, because he came and took her place behind Arwenna. She followed her friend as she wove her way through the crowd. Hugh stood near an open door, next to his daughter. There was a look of concern on Hala’s face.

              “Liam, do you know anything?” she whispered as she watched the other three leave through a set of doors at the back of the room.

              “No. I’ve been with you most of the morning. I haven’t seen any of them since you came back from your breakfast.”

              Another figure caught Arwenna’s attention. Curtis entered the room, followed by a small entourage. He looked pale. Something had happened that he didn’t expect, that much was clear. The smirk on his face, though, told her he was already trying to work it to his advantage. Did he know he’d lost his bid to be king? Or where Sera was?

              Silence descended over the room as the doors at the far end of the hallway were thrown open. A single groom, dressed in the colors of Godric’s house, walked forward. In his arms, resting on a velvet cushion, he carried the crown and scepter. Symbols of both power and responsibility. That it was a groom and not the King
who made
the long walk told the assembly that their monarch no longer lived. The heels of his shoes clicked rhythmically on the marble floor as he strode forward, never taking his eyes off of the throne. Arwenna dared a glance at Ramberti and Frances. Their faces wore the mask that she knew would remain for the rest of their lives. The small amount of privacy they got as Duke and Duchess was coming to an end.

              The groomsman reached the end of his walk, placing the pillow on the seat of the throne. From inside his jacket, he withdrew a white piece of silk and covered the regalia. He then turned to Arwenna, a single tear winding its way down his cheek. As the ranking member of any clergy, the proclamation would be on her.

              She rose, clasping her hands together in front of her. “King Godric has joined the table of the Gods. Long may he rest.”

              “Long may he rest,” the assembled crowd responded. The throng collectively dropped to a knee to pay homage to the death of their king.

              Her fingers fished the parchment out from the sleeve of her dress. And she waited.

              “What now, Daughter? Who shall lead us? You?” Curtis spoke from one side of the great hall. She remained standing, but turned to watch him as he made his way through the crowd. “This was not Godric’s choice. That much is certain. He never would’ve left rule in the hands of a mere woman.” He timed his speech perfectly, standing alone before her and the throne. “I may only be a Baron, but I say I am more qualified to rule this vast kingdom than someone who claims to speak for the Gods!”

              Arwenna drew breath to reply, but stopped as Ramberti stepped forward. “She does not merely claim it, Curtis. She is the Daughter of Hauk. In every way possible. The Mark is plain to
see.” He waived
a hand toward her. “She has access to more power than anyone else in this room can imagine. But does not abuse it. Who better to lead us than someone who cannot be… corrupted?” The inflection in Ramberti’s voice was the perfect reminder to the assembled nobility of Curtis and his involvement in the war that levelled this city.

              “Better me than someone that hides from battle behind his wife’s skirts! Where were you that day, Ramberti? At least I’ve seen combat!”

              Ramberti moved forward, his own face within an inch of Curtis’. “I was there, have no fear. And I know what side you and that crazed son of yours were on. Both when Tanisal burned and when you tried to take Almair.”

              She glanced over the crowd. Hands were on rapiers and swords. No one else had stepped forward, put forth a claim. Supporters shifted to stand behind the one they allied with. It was time.

              “One of our leaders has died this day. I will not allow his successor to fall before he can wear the Crown!” Her voice echoed throughout the chamber.

              Both men stopped and looked toward her. Indeed, every eye in the place was now intent on her form. She knew the power she could wield radiated from her, a visible reminder of who she was. And that it would intimidate most who witnessed it.

              In her left hand, she held up the instructions given to her by Godric where all could see them. “This morning, His Majesty gave me this. It is still sealed. I know not the contents.” She held it out toward the groomsman who had brought in the regalia. “Do you attest the seal is His Majesty’s personal sigil and it is unbroken?”

              He looked over the envelope carefully, but did not try to take it from her hand. “It is. I saw him write this of his own will just before you arrived. I was the one who poured the wax for his signet’s indentation. And it is unbroken.”

              She looked back at Curtis and Ramberti. The former had a calculating look on his face. Whatever the contents, he was already working on a way to counter them.

              Without taking her eyes off of the pair in front of her, she slid a finger under a corner of the envelope and broke the seal. The small pop it made audible in the sudden quiet of the room. She withdrew a single sheet of parchment, scanning the contents before she read it.

              “I, Godric, third of the name and King of this Realm, do decree that, upon my death, Ramberti of Almair shall take up the Crown and Scepter. This is my Royal Will and shall not be contested by any.”

              More cheers erupted than angry shouts, but Curtis held his composure. Arwenna watched him, his eyes narrowing, as he bent a knee before Ramberti. He may be conceding this battle, but the war had just begun.

              Ramberti took a deep breath, looking at her with resignation. He’d known it was coming, even if he hadn’t liked it. As he walked toward her, she removed the white funerary cloth from the chair. Silently, she removed the crown from the cushion and held it aloft briefly before placing it on her friend’s head. She then lifted the ornate scepter and placed it in his hands. In the sudden stillness of the room, he sat upon the throne
as she intoned, “By the grace of the Gods and Goddesses of this world, Ramberti of Almair is no more. So begins the reign of King Ramberti. Long may he guide us.”

              “Long may he guide us!” the throng answered in unison.

              Arwenna sank back into her chair as the assembled crowd began to move forward to pledge their allegiance. Frances was first, her silver and blue gown rustling as she knelt before her husband. Once the oath was complete, she took the empty seat to his left.

              Arwenna kept her eyes on the crowd, gauging those who weren’t happy with the news of Ramberti’s elevation. “Liam,” she whispered, “did Y’Dürkie or the others come back yet? I can’t find them.”

              “I’m sure they’re quite fine, Daughter.” Curtis spoke quietly. He stood just off to the side, a smile on his face that chilled her. “I’m not sure about the other three, but Kial and Sera were getting acquainted with an old family friend when I last saw them.”

              She glared at the man. “Where are they, Curtis?” she demanded.

              His grin grew wider. “They were in my rooms when I left them. I seriously doubt Senyan let them stay there this long, though.” He bowed slightly. “Enjoy the ceremony, Daughter. The King will be leaning heavily on you for at least an hour, I’d say.”

              Arwenna gripped the arm of her chair tightly as Curtis walked away. She heard Liam cursing under his breath behind her. He’d timed his play perfectly. She couldn’t leave Ramberti alone, which gave Senyan all the time in the world to hide Sera and Kial.

              Or kill them.