Page 81 of The Uncrowned Prince

Karreya felt Senaya stiffen and heard her draw in a single harsh breath.

Leisa, too, had lost both parents in the same day, and at a far younger age than Torevan. Of all of them, she alone knew the pain the young prince must be facing.

“However, it seems on other fronts your information may be incomplete, or”—she paused significantly—“dare I say, in error?”

Ambassador Grendish finally broke his silence. “You dare to question my word? When no one here even knows who you are?”

But Faraden held up a quelling hand.

“That is indeed a remarkable accusation,” the First Councilor remarked, without any discernible level of surprise. “But Her Majesty has been acknowledged by Prince Vaniell, who you, Lord Grendish, have made known to us, and whose word is beyond dispute by virtue of his position. We cannot question his veracity without giving grave offense to Garimore, which I’m sure we can agree we have no wish to do.”

Grendish blustered for a moment, but there was little he could say in response.

“If you indeed have news,” Faraden said, “let it be known, so that we may rightly judge how to proceed.”

“I do.” Leisa turned slightly, so her gaze could rake the council members as she spoke. “I bring word of a threat to all of Abreia. But not the one you think. Not the one Ambassador Grendish would have you believe in. But rather the one who sent his lackey here to ensure that Iria was never again independent of his influence.”

The room filled with a deadly quiet.

“Tell me,” Leisa asked into that waiting silence, “how long did Ambassador Grendish wait before suggesting that you delay the coronation of His Highness, Prince Torevan?”

The lack of answer was answer enough.

“Or before begging that you accept the wisdom and protection of Garimore in the difficult days to come, citing the uncertainty of a world in which three of the Five Thrones are bereft of confident leadership?”

A sound of outrage escaped Ambassador Grendish. “That was a gesture of neighborly concern,” he insisted, “and as such…”

The First Councilor held up a hand for silence, his gaze fixed sternly on Leisa.

“What is your point?”

“My point,” she replied, her relentless tone rippling through the hushed room, “is that Her Majesty, Queen Evaraine of Farhall sends her strongest recommendation to the contrary, and would like to express her unwavering support of Prince Torevan as the rightful King of Iria.”

For the next few moments, no one even breathed.

“Are you saying,” Faraden asked softly, “that Her Majesty is… alive?”

“She is very much alive,” Leisa answered, “despite a rather clumsy attempt to poison her. Her Majesty has been recovering in private, and is quite concerned over the speed with which her death has been reported, considering that no official communication on the subject has been issued by the royal family of Farhall.”

Faraden appeared to ponder this statement before turning to Grendish with a single raised eyebrow.

“Have you any comment on this development, Ambassador?”

Every eye shifted, and Karreya could almost hear the sound of opinion shifting with it.

Grendish drew himself up and held out his arms placatingly. “Only that I am delighted to have been wrong.IfI was wrong…” His expression drooped, as if in approximation of sadness. “But no matter what we might wish to believe, it gives me no pleasure to remind everyone in this room that, to my king’s everlasting sorrow, his younger son is no great bastion of truth and honor. Indeed, his unsteady character is known throughout the Five Thrones. His behavior in his own court suggests he is more than capable of concocting this elaborate scheme, for no other reason than to distract us in the midst of our grief and peril.”

Like a changing tide, the weight of opinion shifted once more, as every eye fastened on the Garimoran prince.

Vaniell suddenly seemed to stand alone, the immediate subject of distaste, speculation, mistrust, and outright hostility. And yet he stood, unwavering, with a confident tilt to his head that spoke louder than any words.

His clothing, his demeanor, and his reputation all railed against him, and if one did not know him, one might make the mistake of believing what he chose to reveal on the surface. But Karreya was too well acquainted with the man beneath the smirk and the polish and the posing. All of it was intentional. All was carefully crafted to make him stand out, make him the target of gossip, and to make it clear he had no intention of fulfilling the expectations of those around him.

All of it was intended to conceal the truth until it was far too late—Prince Vaniell of Garimore was as quick and dangerous as a viper, and those who engaged him did so at their own peril.

“You wound me,” Vaniell said, placing a hand over his heart as he regarded Ambassador Grendish with a small smile. “Unsteady character? From my own perspective, I believe my character has been remarkably steady. Of what do I stand accused?”

“Of failing your kingdom when she needed you the most,” the ambassador ground out. “Of giving our revered allies reason to doubt Garimore’s commitment to our agreements. After being forced to repudiate his heir, His Majesty has begged you to return of your own free will, so that he may begin preparing you to accept the responsibilities that will someday be yours. In answer, you have chosen to continue in your ruinous course, leaving us no choice but to resort to extreme measures to ensure Garimore’s future.”

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