Traitor's Crown (Stones of Terrene Book 3) Page 11

  Lady Catherine already attempted to chew out Brandon, and he shut her down as efficiently as he had Zebediah, with a simple, “I am the king. What’s done is done. Now we move forward.”

  But moving forward was going to take something from him that he dreaded. Something that he feared he’d regret if he did, and regret even more if he didn’t.

  They wanted a reason to fight together. They needed something to encourage them to unify.

  He’d have to give them an example to follow.

  Brandon set his stance. “I’m willing to make you a deal, Everett.”

  Everett scoffed and skewered Brandon with a glare that dripped hate. “A deal, for me? Oh, goody.”

  Brandon ignored the sarcasm and let his equally sarcastic retort die behind his lips. “Yes, a deal.” Brandon took a breath. “I will pledge Doldra in support of your leadership, under the requirement that one, Adeline and Weston’s wedding is called off, and two, you protect my nation as best you can.”

  Zebediah whirled to face him, eyes wide. “Are you serious? Brandon, we just got Doldra out from under Aerugan control!”

  Brandon ignored Zebediah to focus on Everett. “What better show for the other leaders, than to see one king bend the knee to the other? We need to unite the nations if we are to survive the threat of the northern Elph, and if our kingdom needs to be the example, then so be it.”

  Everett paused, his face turned to the side, considering Brandon’s words. “You mean it?” Genuine surprise painted his pale face. “You’d give up your kingdom, just to prevent your daughter from marrying?”

  “I’m not giving up my kingdom.” An edge entered Brandon’s voice. “I’m pledging to follow your lead, and support whatever decisions you make in the protection of our land against the north. My military will be yours to use for the benefit of our kingdoms. There’s a difference.” He set his jaw. “That it breaks this engagement contract is beside the point.”

  “And what do your advisers think of this?” Everett raised an eyebrow.

  Catherine cleared her throat and gave Brandon a hard look. “It’s a shame that the idea wasn’t shared with us earlier so we’d have more time to consider.” She lifted a gloved finger to tap her heavily painted cheek. “But I believe I am in support of this.”

  Brandon rolled his eyes. Asking that bossy windbag was just as low on his list as holding this conversation with Everett in the first place. He looked to Zebediah. Odds were good that Zebediah wouldn’t like the plan at all, but even he had to admit that the logic was sound. The kingdoms needed unite under one banner. Quickly.

  A vein throbbed in Zebediah’s neck, but he gave a short nod. “Fine.”

  “And it would go far in getting you closer to being the supreme leader of the south,” Brandon added, pleased to see the gleam of greed in Everett’s eye. That was a weakness to be exploited. “All you need to do is rescind the marriage contract.”

  “And you’ll pledge support to me in front of all the leaders?” Everett demanded, his voice eager.

  “Do we have an accord?” Brandon pressed. This would do good for the survival of his people if the other leaders followed suit, but if Adeline—Jade—would see it that way, he didn’t know. But he meant to keep his word. He’d free her of the contract, whether it be through politically drastic means or physically drastic means.

  Everett nodded and straightened his jacket. “The engagement is off as soon as you make good on this.”

  Bile rose in Brandon’s throat as he nodded. He had to make amends, and this was a step toward that. Even if it rubbed everything in his pride the wrong way. “Tomorrow.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Christopher

  Christopher kept his face in the shadows behind the nearby streetlight as he casually glanced in the window of the Victory Service. When Christopher had told Victor that he would buy General Titus a drink as a way to lure him out, Christopher hadn’t realized that Titus wasn’t the type to go to a standard bar. No, he had to go to a tavern that doubled as a brothel.

  There was no way Christopher was going in there. Too many distractions, and too much revelry for him to tolerate tonight. He couldn’t put up with the energy, even if he tried. He glanced at Markus, who stood silently nearby. No way he’d send him in either. Yes, Victor’s new guy was bonded, but Christopher didn’t know what parameters Victor had set on Markus or what freedoms Markus retained. He wasn’t going to risk losing the new guy in a brothel. They’d wait outside together, then Christopher would let Markus do most the talking, since Titus apparently knew Markus already.

  A man like Titus would want action more than standing around dithering. And even if he did easily follow them, it wouldn’t mean that Christopher was safe. Markus would be able to reply with all the necessary formalities of the Hollow infrastructure, and though he’d been ordered to share it all with Christopher, there was still a chance that Christopher could make a mistake.

  And from what little Christopher had gathered about the man, there was a reason Titus was the general in charge of the Hollows—he had a ruthless streak when it came to disciplining anyone who stepped out of line. If he so much as got a whiff of something bad from Christopher … Christopher honestly wasn’t sure if he’d be able to escape, let alone hold his own. Even with all his training.

  Christopher sighed and knuckled his forehead while he waited. Part of him wanted to skip the waiting and just go in there, talk to the General, and lure him out to Victor now, just to get it over with. But he didn’t want to risk being distracted, nor did he want to learn anything more than what was strictly necessary about the general’s side habits and personal preferences. He perched on a nearby bench where both the entrance and side exit were visible. There was no way to see the back door too, but odds were good the general wouldn’t feel the need to sneak out when he’d walked in so leisurely, and Christopher needed the familiar face of Markus to be there when Titus came out. Christopher watched through the window, and could make out the sturdy shoulders and back of General Titus. When he turned toward a nearby woman, the General’s well-kept yet almost bushy beard—that had to break Aerugan military regulations—confirmed his silhouette beyond a shadow of a doubt. Maybe they gave some slack for those who were stationed in the Hollows. Or maybe the general just didn’t care what the rules were in Lucrum.

  Either way, whether the general was respected enough to do his own thing, or whether he purposefully thumbed his nose at the rules, it was time for him to be on the winning side.

  Christopher pulled a pipe from his pocket and lit the leaves in the well, maintaining the appearance of an Aerugan soldier on his off-duty hours, presumably waiting for a friend. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to be sitting out here for too long.

  It was common knowledge—as of this morning—that Everett had moved most the army north in preparation for war under the advice of General Titus, as the general had arrived with a sizable chunk of his garrison from the Hollows, He’d be sending green recruits there in a few days to get them seasoned as quickly as possible. Victor didn’t seem concerned by that turn of events, and he’d merely handed Christopher a handful of newspapers to “scatter somewhere public.”

  Christopher pulled the last paper out of his Aerugan uniform jacket pocket and opened the paper with one hand, taking care to not accidentally dump the burning mess in his pipe. How Preston made pipe smoking look easy, let alone enjoyable, was beyond Christopher. He barely touched the edge to his mouth, only puffing it when someone walked by. He scanned the paper with unfocused eyes, the contents already memorized: Scandal! Lord Everett involved in Doldra’s royal family slaughter? What really happened twenty years ago! True or not, the papers would provide figurative and literal kindling to the sacrificial pier that Victor was building for Everett.

  Time passed and the pipe burned out, growing cold in the night air. Markus coughed into his sleeve. Christopher dumped what was left from the pipe on the ground behind the bench and looked in the window again. His pulse jum
ped. By all accounts, it seemed like Titus was back in the main room. Christopher hauled himself to his feet and tucked the pipe away, leaving the paper to be found by the next passerby. He glanced at Markus. “Remember your lines?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The door to Victory Service opened, spilling light, laughter, and the aroma of beer, sweat, and too many bodies out into the cool night air. Christopher and Markus snapped a salute as General Titus stepped out whistling.

  Titus returned the salute and gestured to the rowdy room behind him. “Going in?”

  “No, sir.” Christopher nearly bowed and mentally kicked himself for almost slipping into the customs of back home.

  Markus stepped forward. “Sir, I have had an informant contact me about a saboteur in the Hollows. He wants to discuss the dangers with you.”

  Interest lit in Titus’s eyes, and he moved away from the door, his steps nearly silent due to the noise from inside. “A saboteur, hmm?” He stroked his beard with a tattooed hand as he sized up Markus, then Christopher, speculation gleaming as his gaze fell upon the metal bar that Victor had added to Christopher’s jacket. “I’m intrigued, Markus. Where is this informant?”

  “Follow me, sir.” Markus turned away, and Christopher fell into line behind the two men, pleased.

  The streets grew narrow as Markus and Christopher led Titus deeper into the city. Markus glanced over his shoulder while Christopher bit his tongue to keep himself from replying. “Have you heard the rumors about Lord Everett, sir?”

  Titus snorted. “Rumors always abound for him, if one knows where to listen.”

  “True. Well, some of what our friend wants to discuss with you is the potential validity of some of the rumors, and what should or shouldn’t be done about it, given these uncertain times.” Markus led Titus to the apartment and stopped at the doorway.

  Christopher sized up the beefier man, wary.

  Even now, Titus appeared calm, though his eyes glinted as they took in their surroundings, the sturdy door and flimsy knob, the reek of Preston’s lingering cigar smoke, the streetlight that puttered with the last vestiges of gas allotted to this side of town. Titus’s body remained relaxed, though he crossed his arms, his fingers hovering just above the dagger on his belt. “Quite the place to meet.”

  “He wanted to go for subtlety,” Christopher replied. He nodded at Markus, and Markus pushed open the door and stood back to let the general look in the room and come in of his own volition. Victor sat at the table, a bowl of autumn fruits arranged as the centerpiece, the fireplace lit as well as the candles and gas lights, providing plenty of illumination.

  Titus strode in, hands on his hips, one pinky over his sword hilt, the other on his dagger. “Your friend said you wanted to speak to me?”

  Christopher followed Markus in, and Markus stepped aside, letting Christopher take over now, as Victor’s aide.

  Victor gave a genuine smile and gestured at the chair across from him. “Please, have a seat.” He flicked a hand to Christopher. “See to a beverage for our guest?”

  Titus stood next to the chair, his eyes blue slits as he stared down at Victor. “I’m here and my time is short. What do you want?”

  Victor pointed to the tattoo visible on the back of Titus’s hand. “If I may put off your question just one more moment, I like your ink.” He rolled up his sleeve, revealing the intricate black raven etched into his skin among the whorls and back lying crest of his uncle’s house. “Where did you get yours done, if I may ask? That shade of red, it’s very unique. I don’t think I’ve seen another like it.”

  Titus looked momentarily disarmed. He glanced down at his hand where a crimson-petaled flower spread over his knuckles. “An artist back at the Hollows mixes her own pigments.”

  “I may have to go by there some time, get something done by her myself. What’s her name?” Victor leaned an elbow on the table, his black eyes unblinking. His other hand dipped below the table.

  “Artemis.”

  Victor lunged forward, half on the table, scattering the bowl of fruit as he lead with a blood-red stone that he pressed onto Titus’s hand, covering the tattoo. Christopher captured grabbed Titus’s other hand, pulling back, preventing him from grabbing his sword.

  “What are you doin—”

  Titus’s yell cut short as Victor shouted over him, “Cease!”

  Titus snapped his mouth shut and he stopped struggling, arms falling loosely to his sides. His eyes bulged.

  Victor leaned back on his haunches, dangling the stone between his fingers as a satisfied smile spread across his face. “Well, bless the Void, I was right.” He slipped off the table and shook his head, still wearing the grin that sent slight shivers down Christopher’s spine. “That’s my girl. Still using the bonded ink on everyone who comes through. She’s going to make this so very easy.”

  Victor gestured and Christopher let go of the general. Christopher poured a glass of water for himself, an ale for Victor, and a water for the general. He glanced up at Markus, but the soldier’s lips flattened, and he shook his head. Christopher shrugged and slid the beverages to each person before seating himself at the table. He watched Titus, curious as to what Victor would have the General do.

  “You will not make a move to hurt me or those under my protection here,” Victor commanded, his voice cold and authoritative. “You will share none of this conversation with anyone, not in word spoken nor word written. Your loyalty is mine.”

  “Yes, sir.” The words came out of Titus’s mouth, and his eyes flared even as he spoke.

  “And you’ll hide your reactions,” Victor added, “I can’t have you showing your loyalty through subtlety.” He straightened and picked up the mug of ale, swirled it in his hand for a long moment, then took a drink. He motioned to the chair again. “Have a seat, friend.”

  Titus sat.

  Victor spared a glance at Christopher. “Your plan worked. Well done.”

  Christopher raised his chin at the acknowledgment and sparse praise. Satisfaction spread through him like a hot sip of mulled wine on a cold night, setting pleasured fingers of warmth through his limbs. Oh yes, life was much better here than under Lucio or Kaius.

  Victor steepled his fingers. “Answer me freely, with any scrap of information you may have. What is Everett going to do about the Doldran royalty?”

  Titus shrugged. “I don’t know.” His lips pressed together before he reluctantly continued, “King Brandon plans to surrender in the morning, in an effort to get the nations to unite under Everett’s military might and leadership.”

  A disbelieving laugh merged with an outraged growl, and Victor’s fist clenched. “That Void-cursed fool may actually mess with my plan.” He rolled his white shirtsleeve back down. “I’ll need to spread the news of Everett’s involvement faster,” he muttered to himself. “Overnight, if I must.” He looked up at Christopher and jerked his head toward the hall. “Get Preston.”

  Christopher jogged down the hall and pounded on the door to the room that Preston and Silas shared. Preston peered out, sleep circles around his eyes, black hair sticking up one side. Christopher tapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, Victor wants you.”

  Victor didn’t acknowledge them as they entered the room, his glare reserved for the wall. “Preston. Go find Pamela and Rachel. Tell them to spread the rumors faster. I need everyone talking about Everett’s involvement with Doldra’s fall by tomorrow evening.”

  Preston fumbled to shove his shirttails into his pants as he nodded. “Yes, sir.” He jogged back to his room and reappeared a few moments later with boots and a long duster jacket in hand. He snatched a hat off a couch and shoved it on his head as he walked out into the night.

  “I need to get this”—Victor brandished the activation stone with a flourish—”to the Hollows, secretly. When is the next shipment of food or supplies going out there?”

  Titus stared at the stone. “There’s a shipment of steam rifles being sent, along with other supplies. It could go
with that.”

  “Excellent.” Victor handed the stone over and Titus’s hand rose to take it. “As you may have guessed, your subordinate, Markus, is one of mine as well. He can take it to Artemis for me.”

  Titus shook his head and his thick eyebrows pressed together. “He’s not on rotation to go to the Hollows. He just finished training.”

  “Change the rotation.” Victor lifted his mug in the semblance of a cheer. “You’re a general. You have that power. Use it.” He tilted his mug to where Markus loitered in the corner. “Give him the stone. Tell him to give it to Artemis, and only Artemis.” Victor scratched at his cheek with a long finger, contemplative. “Once you leave here, Titus, I want you to behave as you normally would, carrying on with your normal behavior. No changing things up to cause suspicion. If you’re given any opportunity to seize control over the military or leadership while still within the legal rights of the country, do it.” He leaned forward again, eyes burning with the aged intensity of the Elph. “Fail me in any way, and you will kill yourself. Understood?”

  Titus’s jaw twitched as he nodded and bowed. “Yes, sir.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ben

  Ben shook out the spare black Aerugan uniform and carefully laid it out on the gray bedspread of their borrowed room, smoothing the lines before folding it lengthwise on the seams and rolling it tightly. When he wore that uniform, he’d be pretending to fit in even more than he already did. Would he be able to pull it off, masquerading to be an Aerugan soldier? How different would their customs be than home? He slipped it into his pack and buckled the flap with a feeling of finality. Geist had just left to find Timothy––their apparent supervisor while on this mission––and let him know they would be ready to leave as soon as everything was in order. Tomorrow, but still, just in case they were ready early. They’d gone over the details enough times. They knew what to do for their cover, and they’d stay there just long enough for Jade to pull enough strings to get Raine out.