Chapter XXVII #4
“But not Honorian ones. Upper-left drawer,” the Priest said to Hadrian, who strode to Lucian’s desk and wrenched the drawer open.
The spymaster could do nothing, not with two of Hadrian’s personal guard at the door and none of his own in sight—a show of confidence and good faith on Lucian’s part, which had done him no favors.
From Lucian’s desk, Hadrian withdrew papers one of the Priest’s various informants had found in Crispus’s suite, and in the room of the spy who’d attempted blackmail.
The former made it clear that Crispus had been paid off by Caervallion, while the latter implied heavily that Lucian was Afon’s agent in Inverlyn.
For good measure, the Priest had even planted a letter of his own, from Matria Serafine.
Though it was addressed to no one particular, it offered thanks for assistance in moving three Lyrien sorias through the cavern sanctuary.
“Is there anyone who hasn’t paid you to go turncoat at this point?” Hadrian said with absolute disdain. “And have you no loyalty, apart from your own pocket and advancement?”
“Caervallion has a valid claim on the Honorian throne,” Lucian shot back. “As for the rest, it’s spurious lies. The Priest himself is the one who moved Corrinians and sorias through the sanctuary.”
“I should have known.” The Priest infused his words with a self-disparaging tone.
“I should’ve realized Ariana’s devotion to our gods was only a show, and that Lucian’s willingness to serve another king after Darias was only a matter of expediency.
Honoria has simply not been the highest bidder for him, and he respects nothing else.
Lucian Inver, it is my duty as Priest to level charges of high treason and collusion against you, and to remand you to the gods’ judgment. ”
“Those papers are yours.” Lucian’s voice rang with unspent fury. “And if there’s to be any judgment administered, it’s mine, in the role of court magistrate. I will see you stripped of your title and spread-eagled on the war god’s altar.”
The Priest shook his head pityingly. “Will you? A shame, that the court magistrate requires unanimous support from a special counsel to overthrow a Priest, while I need only the support of the gods to claim a traitor for Tyrus. And as I am the sole mouthpiece of the gods, I believe that support will be granted.”
For a long moment, no one spoke. The only sound audible in the room was Lucian’s heavy, ragged breath.
And as the spymaster’s discomfort heightened, the Priest began to realize with a sinking feeling that he’d gone too far.
If Lucian’s fatal flaw was underestimating his enemies, the Priest’s was its opposite—he’d overestimated Lucian, assuming his rival was always in control, and would easily squirm out of whatever noose the Priest set for him.
He’d envisioned a scenario in which Lucian was briefly consigned to the Inver dungeon, but vanished within a day, spirited off by whatever powerful friends he’d yet to call on.
It was what the Priest would’ve done in the same situation—bided his time and disappeared. But Lucian, it seemed, was well and truly in a corner, and the Priest had robbed him of the chance to recover his equilibrium.
If the Priest knew one thing, it was this: an Inver in control was a formidable opponent. An Inver in dire straits was far more dangerous.
“Afon has a claim to Honoria’s throne and a valid one at that,” Lucian said in a sudden, fatalistic rush. “He’s as Inver as Orden was. In fact, he’s Carian Inver, Darias’s chosen son. We would be wise to welcome him as our rightful king.”
“That is enough,” Hadrian barked. “Wild falsehoods will get you nowhere. I knew Carian, and Afon is nothing like him. Do you think me as blind as our Priest, that I would not recognize a son of Darias, even in the garb of a foreign king?”
“Then hear this,” Lucian hissed. “I level the same claims of treason against the Priest, and hold an equivalent position of power. There can be no resolution between us but the rite of conquest. Let our dispute be resolved by Tyrus and Mortis, who will grant one of us victory in battle and one of us death.”
There it was. For years, the Priest and Lucian had danced around any sort of direct confrontation, ensuring their enmity never resulted in violence between the two of them.
Survivors both, they recognized a losing proposition, but in giving Lucian more credit than he was due, the Priest had precipitated exactly the conflict they’d both spent so long avoiding.
The spymaster’s only way out now was through him.
And the Priest cursed himself for the worst of fools.
“That,” Hadrian said, finally sounding pleased, “is how Inver problems ought to be dealt with. I’ll assemble the nobility, who must stand witness.
We’ll hold the rite before the empty throne, and the gods will judge between you both.
I never thought I’d say this, Priest, but I hope Tyrus goes with you and guides your hand.
It’s the only way you’re coming out of this alive. ”
The Priest silently concurred. He’d always known an attempt at the crown would be the death of him. But he hadn’t expected it would come so soon.