Chapter 56 #2
“Oh, what utter nonsense,” Agnes spoke to the tablecloth, her voice a droning mutter.
“Pure claptrap, it is. The man wanted a thrashing, and by the gods, I told his queen mother as much when he was eight, and I tell you so now. He needed a good slap, and another for good measure, and a third for he wasn’t the sort who learned the first two times, oh no.
” Agnes gave a phlegmy cough. “Praying at Emberlain’s stand, was he?
Praying when his boy has all his limbs and teeth, and reads books and says his pleases and thank-yous? ”
She muttered louder. “Oh, and I shall tell him so when I die—which shall be soon, given the draught from those arches and the thin cushion upon this chair. I shall arrive at the heavens above and march straight to him, I will. I shall take his ear and twist until he’s squealing like a pig at the autumn slaughter, and by the gods, will he learn then. ”
For perhaps the first time, Marius and Octavia had no answer. They gaped at Agnes with bemused affront, and Richard felt the wound within him close somewhat.
Marius recovered first with a grimace. “Your court is a marvel, Sun King. One can scarcely tell who rules it.”
“A house without a difficult elder, Your Majesty, is one the gods have forgotten.” Richard let his shoulders settle against the chair’s high back.
“It is clear to me now that no help will come from Estara when the veil falls, and Galdran marches into Ardenia. But can I at least have your word, Your Majesty, that Ardenia need not fear Estaran forces at her back? That when Gloamvarn comes, Estara will stay out of our way.” He swallowed hard.
“Once, you and your departed wife were good friends to my father and mother. I remember the banquets. I remember my father greeting you with a hug, welcoming you into our hall, trusting that what passed between monarchs still held some weight.” Richard drilled his gaze into Marius.
“Will you at least grant him that memory? Will you leave Ardenia be?”
Marius spread his hands. “Attack Ardenia? Why ever would I seek such a thing? You speak as though I am at your gates with soldiers and siege engines. Truly, Sun King, you flatter my ambitions.”
Octavia twirled her hair around a finger.
“My husband means only that monarchs must not converse rashly on matters of war. Surely, of all people, you understand that one who wears a crown must do what is best for their people. Estara will observe events as they unfold. We shall weigh what preserves our borders, our trade, our safety, and when the time comes, we shall decide accordingly.”
Richard scoffed. At his shoulder, Malgrin had stepped forward.
“Your Majesty.” Malgrin addressed Marius and Octavia with a low bow.
“Forgive an old diplomat his plainness. The alliance between Ardenia and Estara is older than any soul yet living. It was sworn upon the joint altars of Ignatious and Emberlain in the time of your great-great-grandfather, witnessed by both councils. A treaty of such antiquity is not a thing a king of Estara would wish to leave in doubt over a dinner.” He gave a simpering smile.
“Surely Your Majesty does not seek to bring that long alliance to ruin? A simple yes, that Estara will hold its hand should Gloamvarn march, and we may dine in peace, and toast our two crowns.”
Marius swigged from his goblet and smiled as Octavia dabbed at the trickle down his chin.
“My good wife has spoken for me already,” he said. “We shall assess, in time, what is best for our people.”
A chill spread through Richard. There it was.
Marius would not commit to neutrality because Marius had no intention of remaining neutral.
When the veil failed, when Galdran’s armies poured into Ardenia from the west, Estara would come marching from the east. Ardenia would be a frog trapped between a snake and a crocodile.
Richard rose. “Then there is nothing more to say.”
He narrowed his eyes at Penelope. The young woman sat very still, with her head bent, a tear trailing down her cheek, and her thumb idly caressing the white gems at her neck. Snowdrop gems, Richard realised with a startled lurch of his stomach. Elara had given the princess their mother’s necklace.
Richard shifted his gaze to Alaric, who was slumped low in his chair, staring vacantly at the middle of the table. The wine bottle by him was empty.
“Do you know, Your Majesty, what disgusts me the most?” Richard asked softly. “It is that you are a father who has forgotten his children.”
Marius snorted, and Octavia’s lips pursed into a pout.
“You parade your new wife across their mother’s chair”—Richard’s lip curled—“and you grin while she preens, and these two children of yours, born of a woman you once called beloved, sit in your hall like ghosts. This”—he waved a hand at Penelope and Alaric—“is what you have done to your blood under your own roof.”
Marius gave a patronising smile. “Sentiment, Sun King. The young always mistake it for insight. My children are fed, clothed, live in a palace by the sea, and they want for nothing.” He clicked his tongue.
“Indeed, why do you not send me your radiant sister? My daughter yearns for her so, and I shall care for her as if she were my own.”
For an instant, Richard imagined vaulting over the table. The crystal goblets would shatter upon the tiles. The guards would run across the hall, but Richard would be quick. He’d have his sword through Marius’s throat in a blink.
Kaelen sighed behind him, and it reminded Richard to breathe. He lifted his chin at Marius.
“You sour, withered old ballsack,” he said calmly. “May you go fuck yourself.”
Marius blinked, even as Alaric burst into a cackle. Not waiting for a response, Richard turned to his people, who gazed at him with something akin to pride—even Kaelen, especially Kaelen. Oh, how the knight’s eyes danced.
“Let us go home.”