Page 25 of The Moon Blessed King
Elician slips from the window. He asks Fen, ‘Did she give any inclination of what that response might be?’
‘No, but she wants a public audience.’
It will be bad then. Bad enough that she’d prefer the potential security of her station and the ability to flee while witnesses would shame Elician from responding in haste. Not that he would dare. His father shamed their country enough in that regard. Laure will always be safe in his city. Or at least, she need not fear physical pain or death.
Cat climbs the stairs to their room with little delay. He receivestheir update and sets his sword aside. He asks, ‘Have you received anything from Captain Partho?’
‘No, sorry.’ She hugs her paperwork to her chest. ‘What happens if Gillage refuses your request for the challenge? Or if the captain says no too?’
‘It might just be exactly what our father wanted, then,’ Elician replies. ‘If we need to convince the whole of the people thatAlestis their heir…it could lead to chaos.’ It would take a very long time. They’d need to sow the seeds of doubt. Gillage could manage that just fine on his own – Elician knows the boy is too reckless to not make a fatal error sooner or later. But they would need to capitalize on it. Remind the people of Alest. Suggest him as an alternative. Give them a new leader to support. But all of that…is a road to civil war. His father’s designs will have come to pass, and Alest’s path to the throne will be drowned in blood he doesn’t want spilled.
‘Perhaps it will not be so bad,’ Cat suggests. But Elician can tell full well that he doesn’t believe that in the least.
‘I’ll wait outside,’ Fen says. She leaves and they dress. Cat washes briskly with the water from a fresh bowl set out in their lavatory, and Elician does his best not to ogle. Especially not when Cat emerges, without his shirt, his trousers half undone, mindless of the fact that the lines of his hips are visible. They are a distracting feature, hidden swiftly by a turn of the back and an exchange of loose trousers for something more polished and neat. Elician fetches his gloves for him. He holds them out and helps Cat slide his hands inside, hiding that lovely skin with thick layers of fabric.
They depart the suite and follow Fen wordlessly to the great hall. Adalei, Lio and Marina are already there. Lio has arranged for a veritable contingent of King’s Guard. ‘You look like you’re expecting a battle,’ Elician teases.
‘I would rather be prepared,’ Lio replies. He tips his head to Cat, hissing a greeting that earns its obligatory reply. Lio’s familiarity with the Reaper’s speech is one talent Elician did not expect to emergefrom their time in Alerae. But he will not begrudge it. Cat too seems pleased to be able to use it, even if Lio’s prolonged imprisonment within the Reaper cells is the only reason he knows that language, and even if Cat is too uncomfortable with that fact to ever mention it outright.
A herald announces Laure’s presence, and Elician calls for her to be led in. The doors open, revealing her and two toadies in Alelunen colours. Both carry boxes of varying sizes. One large and cumbersome, the other smaller but still a burden. They do not bow to him – they are not his subjects – but she does bend her head in a show of polite deference, and he returns the gesture.
‘I thank you for the audience, King of Soleb,’ Laure says as she stands only a few paces away. ‘I come on behalf of King Gillage of Alelune.’
‘We are eager to receive such news,’ Elician replies.
Laure nods once, sharp and swift, then swings her hand back and gestures to the first man with his far larger box. He approaches, setting the box to the ground and leaving it there for Elician to open on his own. He does not. ‘The first order of business is in relation to the former King Anslian of Soleb,’ Laure says. ‘He was brought to justice following his surrender at the Blessedsafe for the murder of our queen. I’ve brought his effects, his raiment and valuables, to Soleb, where they belong.’
Everything save the man himself. Elician has not dared to think of his uncle. He has known since the moment Anslian surrendered that his life was forfeit. Thinking of Anslian means imagining the worst, and both he and Adalei have avoided even mentioning him whenever they can. As if speaking his name will make it real. And yet, it has always been real. Avoiding it has not changed that truth. Elician takes a deep breath. This box will go to her. As soon as its contents are properly confirmed, he will give her everything of Anslian’s that he can. He only wishes he had one thing more.
‘Where is his body?’ Elician asks quietly.
‘Quartered, and displayed,’ Laure replies. He hears his cousin gasp. He turns back to see her. One hand is over her mouth, the other pressing against the arm of his throne. Fen stands wide-eyed and stunned at her side, not seeming to know if she should comfort her or let her be. Laure was not cruel in her delivery. The words were not spoken with any excess of spite. She delivered them as fact, painful as they may be.
Elician had been irritated by songbirds in the morning, but it was carrion birds that had carried off his uncle’s flesh, pecking at the remains as they were laid out beneath the open sky as a warning and a sign of Alelune’s retribution for her murdered queen. Why had he let such a simple thing bother him when there were so many worse fates that he could have experienced instead?
‘There are no remains to return,’ Laure says. ‘These are all we will offer you.’
‘Thank you for such care,’ Elician intones. Anslian’s belongings did not need to be returned. He doesn’t know if he is glad for it, for the closure of it all, or hurt all the more for knowing the truth.
Laure nods, then seems to steel herself for the next matter she is meant to settle. ‘King Gillage has reviewed the terms of your proposed truce. On the point of requesting a confirmation with Death to pass her judgement on your consort’s suitability to rule, our king responds that such a matter can only be undertaken amongst the living. As a Reaper, the former Stello Alest is ineligible to stand for the throne, or undergo the challenge at all. The confirmation ritual will not take place, and no safe passage will be offered, nor escort provided for the purpose of allowing either Alest or Your Majesty to enter Alerae for any reason.’
Their bid for Alelune’s throne will mean war.
Elician closes his eyes. He breathes deeply. He had hoped. God how he had hoped.
It had been so simple a thought.
Too simple, it seemed. It could not merely have been as easy asasking a goddess to weigh in on the affairs of mortalkind. Even if one of those mortals was her chosen.
‘If,’ Laure continues, ‘Alest recants his claim to the throne and makes no effort to return to Alerae, King Gillage will permit him to remain in Soleb.’
‘And if I do not?’ Cat asks at Elician’s side. ‘I am no longer permitted to stay here?’
‘Then as a Reaper of Alelune it is yourdutyto return to your cell,’ Laure replies.
‘You will never say such a thing again,’ Lio spits out from Elician’s right, and Elician is more surprised than he ought to be. Lio has never done anything so egregious during court before. He has never dared interrupt proceedings with his own thoughts or opinions. But his beloved’s father has been confirmed dead, hisgeneral, and now…the threat of the cells has once more been raised. He should have expected Lio to say something. He’s ashamed to realize it hadn’t occurred to him that Lio would not be able to hold himself back.
‘And who are you to make such demands?’ Laure asks.
