Page 43 of A War of Crowns

Though Lord Ezzo seemed perfectly entranced by the sight of Oracle Tsukiko settling into her chair, the Drakmori soon sliced a look Seraphina’s way. “You wish to force my king’s hand in sending aid to Mysai.”

Seraphina presented the ambassador with another tight smile. “I wish for us to come to an arrangement which we both feel is mutually beneficial.”

Lord Ezzo tilted his head. He glanced about the table, including Duke Percival and Duchess Edith in his question when he asked, “Does this mean Elmoria is considering a new marital contract? Will there be a royal wedding at last?”

No, Seraphina wanted to scream. The word burned on her tongue and rattled against her teeth, desperate to be loose. She didn’t need a husband. Elmoria didn’t need a king. Her father was wrong. She would not be the ruin of Elmoria.

Shecoulddo this on her own.

But within her mind, she could still see Mysai so clearly where it drowned beneath that black smoke. Still she saw Goldreach burning. Still she saw her people lying dead at her feet.

Seraphina clenched her hands on her lap to stop their trembling. Across from her, Duchess Edith presented a grim smile. At her side, Duke Percival breathed out a quiet sigh through his nose.

Just as the time for asking nicely was long past, so was the time for acting on mere pride alone. Did she wish to chain herself to Drakmor?No.

But would she? To save her people?

Oracle Tsukiko had been right.

She did already know what she must do, deep down.

“As I already said, my lord,” Seraphina slowly uttered, feeling for all the world like a woman about to sign away her soul, "we seek to find an arrangement that both parties will consider…” The words stuck to her tongue that time, leaving her struggling to spit out a final, “Mutually beneficial.”

“Yes,” Oracle Tsukiko added in her soft lilt. “And I am greatly looking forward to traveling with Her Majesty’s party so I might meet your king myself.”

Lord Ezzo’s sudden smile was as brilliant as the midday sun against snow. Dipping his head, the Drakmori purred over what was left of his wine, “His Majesty will besohappy to hear it.”

Chapter twelve

Edmund

“Mercer Caspar Naari,” the footman announced, shattering the stillness within the king’s study.

King Edmund V of Drakmor jerked his quill away from the document he had been signing and a droplet of ink spattered the parchment in a single, fatplop.He frowned.

The document was ruined.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty…is now a bad time?”

Edmund squinted at the middle-aged man haunting the doorway. Swathed in the rich crimson of the Arathian court and dripping in gold, Caspar Naari looked like a mere merchant, desperate to flaunt his wealth.

But Edmund knew the truth.

Caspar Naari was a noble ambassador straight from the Arathiancourt, come to woo him.

“No,MercerNaari. Please, do come in.” Lips pursing, Edmund shoved the ruined document into the hands of his waiting secretary with a terse, “See this document redone, Master Hews. You are dismissed.” To the rest of the room, he specified, “Everyoneis dismissed.”

No doubt Master Hews needed to scurry along and inform the dowager queen that something of import was happening. The Lord forbid Edmund actually deal with a matter of state all by his lonesome.

For the ambassador posing as a merchant, Edmund reserved a far more cordial tone when he asked, “I trust you are enjoying life within Drakmor well enough?”

The ambassador’s arrival to the Drakmori court had been rather serendipitous. The man had arrived just the night before, mere hours after Edmund first received a letter from his own ambassador. Apparently, the Queen of Elmoria wished to invite him to a peace summit and renew their bonds of friendship.

And she was bringing an Oracle with her.

If the King of Arath wished to press his counter-offer, now was his last opportunity to do it.

Ambassador Naari bowed first from the doorway and then again once he reached Edmund’s desk. “I am still growing accustomed to the lack of spice in the food, Your Majesty,” the Arathian confessed with a smile. “But Drakmor’s women more than make up for the blandness of your cuisine.”

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