CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT #3
Standing on Thom’s other side, Ethenn glanced around the room.
The ministers were talking casually among themselves, plates of pastries and cups of tea before some of them.
A servant offered the soldiers cups as well.
Brea and Ethenn alone accepted—he needed the wakeful power of the olifera leaf in the traditional Ephrian blend.
Evylin declined but requested some of the pastries, to which Thom and Brea seconded the request.
Shortly after, the door opened again. Vayden stepped in first. He wore a brown coat with a calluna flower pinned over his left breast—the symbol of mourning in the moors of Wauld. He was clean-shaven and pulled together, but the dark circles remained beneath his eyes.
His daughter, Reyana, had come to Ephria along with her grandparents. From Ethenn’s understanding, father and daughter spent most of their time together. However, the girl was not with him that morning.
Instead, Ilain walked in after her brother.
The bright light streaming through the windows lit up her fiery hair.
As striking as ever, she wore a pale blue dress embroidered all along the bodice with golden beads.
The sleeves draped down to flow with the soft skirt.
She, too, wore a calluna affixed to her gown.
Yet, she carried her chin high, showing no other signs of her state of mourning.
Ethenn looked away before she could catch him staring.
“Good morning,” the woman at the head of the table said.
Archminister Essen of Ephria was a pretty older woman with dark skin and light chestnut eyes.
Her silver-shot black hair coiled tightly like a halo around her head.
“Thank you all for joining us. Though we wish it were under more joyful circumstances, I’m afraid we have matters of state to attend to. ”
Ethenn straightened. Matters of state. What a bizarre thing for him—the Slayer of Trollenston—to be involved in.
“Presently,” Archminister Essen continued, “the countries once known as Wauld and Ephria are in shambles. This is to be expected in an overthrow of monarchies. However, we had hoped to be better prepared for the timing of such events. As King Blount II chose to murder his father along with the Ephrian royal bloodline, the kingdoms have since been thrown into upheaval.”
The archminister informed them about all matters across the continent.
Ephria posed a simpler challenge since they were already within the palace after the fall of the Ephren reign.
Restoring the Allundan rule was straightforward with the previous leadership removed.
However, they expected to spend several months uniting the nobles, mending relationships with them, and ensuring the military received appropriate orders.
Given their intention to divide the rulership into four provinces on the country’s eastern side, it should not pose significant challenges to restoring peace.
However, such a governmental modification would only be implemented upon achieving more effective control over Wauld, which presented its own challenges.
The neighboring country was in turmoil. Following the assassination of the first King Blount, the attempted seizure of Ephria, and King Blount II’s subsequent death, true authority was absent in the nation.
Blount’s son, Rouland III, was not yet two years old and was the designated heir.
Since Blount’s death had occurred just four days ago and the news was just reaching the palace, the royal family remained largely unaware of how to handle the overthrow in their own country.
A few Alliance members still held positions within the government, managing to keep the nation stable while preventing any but the Alliance from regaining power.
Yet, this arrangement was highly volatile.
“Therefore,” the Waulden archminister, Dudleye, said, “we need to provide new authority as we establish the Allundan government within the western half of our continent.”
Archminister Essen smiled brightly. “Highlady Calder and Corporal Loxley, we would like you to be our official delegates for this task.” Ethenn’s stomach dropped as the woman continued, “Which means we shall perform your wedding and Bonding ceremonies immediately.”
Realizing for the first time that no one had informed the Alliance of their broken betrothal, Ethenn stared open-mouthed, unsure how to break the news.
His face heated. Surely, Ilain should do it.
She had worked with them for far longer.
She was likely friends with many of the ministers.
In fact, her parents were sitting just to Ethenn’s left.
But what if she didn’t? This was the perfect opportunity for her to force him to follow through or else make a fool of himself in front of the governors of their new country.
“Forgive me, Archminister,” Ilain said, her melodic accent filling the room. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
An awkward silence passed as the sixteen ministers looked from Ilain to Ethenn to each other and back. Daulton and Rowana Calder looked greatly confused, scanning Ethenn with pointed uncertainty.
He shifted uncomfortably as Archminister Dudleye said, “I’m afraid I don’t understand.
Edmaund, Allore rest his soul, informed us of your betrothal.
He marked your marriage to be officiated upon the reestablishment of Allund or in a year’s time, whichever came first. Allund is being established, and we’d like to complete the wedding. ”
Ethenn could practically feel the other troop members holding their breaths.
“Yes, that was the arrangement,” Ilain said calmly. She held her shoulders back and her head high and didn’t so much as glance at Ethenn once. “However, we came to a mutual decision to end our betrothal.”
Ethenn tried not to react to that statement, but the Fire Relic around his neck flared. Mutual? It hadn’t been mutual. She’d fought him every step of the way. So why wasn’t she fighting now?
Baffled and somewhat irritated, Ethenn heard himself huff.
The entire room turned to him.
Body flushing molten hot, Ethenn dipped his head.
“Was there something you wished to add, Corporal Loxley?” one of the ministers asked.
When he looked up, Ethenn realized it was Rowana Calder, her knowing gaze darting between him and her daughter.
Forcing himself not to squirm, Ethenn shook his head. “No, ma’am,” he said deferentially.
Thom jabbed him in the ribs, and Ethenn glared up at him but held his tongue.
While the ministers still appeared bemused, Archminister Dudleye turned back to Ilain.
“Very well. As you know, Highlady Calder, the position of Chancellor of Doorstunds Reach is dependent upon your Bonding. We would still like you to take that role.” He raised his bushy white brows.
“There are eleven other Warriors within our organization. You may choose to marry any of them, and they would readily accept.”
A hush fell over the room, and Ethenn’s stomach twisted. Don’t do it, he thought. If she married any of them, it would be as bad as marrying him. She didn’t love them. She didn’t want them. And he couldn’t fathom her living life in such a resigned state.
Ethenn’s hands began to tremble, so he clasped them behind his back. His eyes darted toward Ilain, finding a sad smile on her face. “I’m afraid, Archminister, that I can’t do that.”
Her words failed to penetrate Ethenn’s brain. She was . . . refusing?
“I appreciate your nomination and support, but I don’t want it,” Ilain concluded. “Not at the price it will cost me.”
Ethenn gaped at her. She was refusing the position. Why?
Thom slugged Ethenn’s arm then, and he grunted. The entire room turned to face him again.
Ethenn cleared his throat but kept his head down.
Taking pity on him, Archminister Essen spoke.
“We are admittedly disappointed, Highlady,” she said, and Thom poked Ethenn’s side.
“But we accept your choice. We shall send word to those in the west to instate Highlord Grey Trumane and Captain Alma Maarsh as the new Highlord Chancellor and Highlady Commander of Verlund Province.”
Another prodding from Thom.
Ethenn sent him a glare but otherwise ignored him.
“They will then be sent to Mouroc to facilitate the expansion of Allund. Should you be so willing, we’d like you to travel to join them. As to our eastern governing—”
“Are you bloody insane?” Thom burst out at last.
The ministers froze, staring at them.
“Not you,” Thom said, waving a hand at the men and women at the table. He whirled on Ethenn. “What is wrong with you?”
Under normal circumstances, Ethenn might have been wise enough not to rise to the bait. But he was wearing the Fire Relic, so to hell with decorum. “I’m not the one with the problem,” Ethenn shouted back. “You jab me again, and you’ll have a broken finger.”
“Oh, stop being a sodding twit.” Thom shoved him then—not hard but strong enough to cause Ethenn to shuffle. “You heard what she just said, and you’re still going to coddle your ego?”
“Thom,” Deckard called under his breath.
Thom brushed his brother off. “He needs to grow up,” he said.
A caustic laugh slipped out of Ethenn. “Congratulations, Thom. You’ve discovered a new level of hypocrisy,” he retorted.
“Oh-ho! I’m in awe of your cutting wit,” Thom said dryly. “Do you mind taking two seconds to think through what she just said?”
Ethenn glared at his friend. “I don’t need two seconds. I heard her clearly. She’s refusing the position because she—” He paused, realizing specifically what she’d said. He leaned around Thom, taking in Ilain, who stood there, lips parted and eyes darting between the men with uncertainty.
“Hang on,” Ethenn said, taking a step forward. He pointed at Ilain. “What price?”
Ilain blinked, her jade green gaze vibrant in the light. An uncharacteristic nervous laugh slipped out of her. “We can discuss this later,” she said.
“No, we can discuss it now. What price?” Ethenn pressed with undue confidence.
“Ethenn—”
“Ilain, answer the bloody question.”