Chapter 31 #2
Aldric was on his feet at once. A hiss of annoyance escaped through his clenched teeth. “You can’t possibly think that I’m going to march south to Arlund while you deal with Coreto alone.”
Something fluttered to life within her chest. Something small and fragile. Did her Crow balk now not because he thought she was sending him away from the action…
But because he wished to stay with her? To protect her?
She smothered the little flutter at once, crushing that foolish spark of hope beneath a weight of duty. What did it matter if he did? You do not have time for this.
“I do not intend to deal with Coreto alone,” she gently explained.
“You will all be there with me at the meeting. I just need you to appear to be marching south to Arlund so that news of it reaches Coreto. If he thinks I have no army or dreaded Crow to defend me, he will be more likely to believe the ruse. He will think he truly has me backed into a corner.”
Sir Easome stepped forward, his brow furrowing. “So where are we actually going?”
Seraphina gestured toward the nearest window. “West. Circle around the capital under the cover of darkness tonight and march north before donning the Umberly tabards. Lie in wait near the Whiteford, on Coreto’s side of the border, until I am ready for you.”
She glanced at Aldric. “Alyx will be my signal. But do not advance too close, or Coreto will be able to see that you are not Cyneric. We need him to truly believe that the full might of the northern armies is waiting for him just over the next ridge.”
Still, Sir Easome did not seem convinced. “This is a risky move, Your Majesty.”
Duke Percival was all too swift to agree: “A dangerous gambit. Bold, but dangerous.”
Seraphina looked back to her Crow to see if he would agree with her Lord Constable and godfather; but he simply stared at her, his expression opaque as ever—utterly unreadable.
She wet her lips, her throat tightening. “I know this is a plan riddled with risks. A dangerous plan. But it is the only path I see forward that avoids civil war. Elmoria is already on the verge of being torn apart by our enemies. I want Coreto arrested, nothing more. And I…”
The words burned the back of her throat, like bile; she forced herself to speak them all the same.
“We do not have the numbers to fight Coreto and Arath at the same time. In a battle of brute strength with the duke, we will lose. In a battle of wits, we might just win.” Her gaze skimmed the room again, imploring her advisors to understand her logic.
But worry still knit Father Perero’s eyebrows together. “And what do you intend to do with the Duke of Coreto once you have him ensnared, Your Majesty?”
Seraphina’s stomach roiled at the question. She knew what would be expected of her. She knew what her father would have done under similar circumstances: a battlefield execution.
Coreto beheaded, kneeling at her feet.
But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.
“I intend to arrest him, Father,” she reassured the Shepherd, earning a small smile from the holy man. “He will have a trial before an assembly of his peers, as the law demands, the moment we recapture Arlund.”
Though the Duke of Coreto was her enemy, he was still a man. He was still her subject. He was still worthy of the chance to surrender.
The air behind her seemed to shift. She could nearly sense Aldric preparing to balk again.
She did not give him the opportunity. If she let him argue, if she let him glare and call her wife in that rough, infuriating voice of his, she might actually start to listen to his counterplan. To his desire to merely bring her Coreto’s head.
And she could not afford to listen. Not now.
Not when the path before her was already so narrow.
“I know this plan is bold,” she murmured. “I know it is risky. But so long as we work together, it just might work—a resolution to this untimely coup without further bloodshed.”
Lifting her chin, Seraphina added on a softer note, “The Lord willing, the tide of this war will soon turn back in our favor. Thank you for coming. The Lord bless you all. We will reconvene after we have the Duke of Coreto in irons.”
Most of her councilors stood frozen in place, as if stunned that the meeting had already adjourned. Her godmother caught her eye, clearly wanting to have a word.
But she was already in motion, sweeping after Olivia, who had started slinking toward the exit the moment she dismissed them. “Olivia! Just a moment.”
Her Spymaster froze.
Seraphina caught up, slipping her arm through Olivia’s before the woman could vanish like smoke, as she was so often wont to do. “I need you to write two letters for me,” she murmured. “Though I’d prefer the second remain between us.”
A quick glance over her shoulder found Aldric still watching her—hot, sharp, unyielding. She tore her gaze away. “Just in case things…do not unfold as I hope.”
“Oh?” Olivia shot her a sideways look. “Since you keep using me as a glorified secretary, am I getting double wages, then?”
Seraphina pinched her. “Hush. After you send the letter to Coreto, I need you to write back to that Cesare Alberti fellow.”
“The smug banker from Fortuna?” Olivia snorted. “And say what? ‘Thank you for absolutely nothing?’”
“No.” Seraphina wet her lips, lowering her voice further. Her pulse quickened, excitement beating out a staccato rhythm. “Tell him that if he is so eager to watch my performance in the lists, he is welcome to pay the price of admission for a front-row seat. And then send him a voucher in return.”
One of Olivia’s eyebrows raised.
“Make it out for one parcel of Elmorian land and a noble title to accompany it,” she whispered, barely daring to voice the words aloud, “redeemable immediately…once he decides to stop being a useless bystander and finally choose a side in this war—the winning side. Mine.”