Page 46 of A War of Crowns

Edmund wrinkled his nose. His mother was so short-sighted sometimes. “As I have said,” he repeated himself, making sure his tone left no room for further argument, “I will deal with Elmoria before I negotiate with Arath further. It does not matter what this queen thinks she can or cannot offer us. All that matters is this summit of hers gives me the perfect opportunity to make a fool of Seraphina de la Croix at last. It’s high time she learns why one does not play games with House Hargrave.”

Disgust veritably dripped from the dowager queen’s lips when she shot him a sidelong look and observed, “So this is why you are inviting that…littlemonsterback to court?”

Edmund thinned his lips. “Reading my missives again, Mother?” He shouldn’t have been surprised. “One can only assume you mean my brother.”

“Half-brother,” she viciously corrected. “For the love of the Lord, never again imply my womb produced thatcreature.”

Edmund’s eye twitched. “Mother,” he softly voiced under his breath, taking care to enunciate each syllable. “I do notwish to discuss your womb. Ever. Again.”

Snapping her fan shut, the dowager queen continued on as if he had not even spoken when she said, “That monster has not been welcome in my court for fifteen years,and yet you invited him to return without even consulting me first.”

“Because this is notyourcourt, Mother,” Edmund reminded her, back on his feet in a moment. “And you will learn to remember that. Father is deadand I am king now. You continue to live here in the palace out of my good grace and mercy.” Stalking around the desk, he loomed over the woman who had birthed him, raised him, and now undermined him at every turn. Holding her gaze, he whispered, “And I pray you never forget that.”

Edmund was certain his mother was about to argue with him further. But instead, she surprised him with an abrupt laugh and an offhanded comment of, “Oh, darling, do relax. There is no need for us to threaten one another.”

Edmund shot her a sour look and settled himself in a seat on the edge of his desk. He didn’t trust her sudden shift in mood for a moment. “I want your promise, mother.”

“What?” She was all wide-eyed innocence at that.

“I want your promise that you will not interfere with my plans for Elmoria’s queen. You will not interfere with Aldric’s return to court. You will not interfere with my negotiations with Arath.”His voice hardened with each word spoken. “Foroncein your life, you will not interfere, and you will let me do this on my own. Your promise, mother. I demand it, or you can see yourself out of this room.”

In the wake of his small speech, the dowager queen avoided his gaze. She looked everywhere but at him—the ceiling, the hearth, the windows overlooking the verdant expanse of the palace grounds and the capital of Falwood beyond.

Finally, she breathed a terse, “Fine. You have my promise.” After a pause, she shot him a sidelong look. “Does this mean you are going to reveal to me your grand plan? Or do you intend to leave me in suspense?”

At that question, Edmund smiled. “The latter, I fear. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

Chapter thirteen

Caspar

Lord Caspar Naari sighed when he finally entered the set of chambers he'd been given the night before, when first he arrived to the Drakmori court.

They were modest, but serviceable…though a little cramped, given the sheer amount of people packed into the space at present.

Passing through the sitting room, he dipped a nod to the two guards posted by the door leading into the bedchamber. In silence, he fidgeted and waited for them to let him pass.

When one finally obliged, Caspar forged on into the dark room beyond.

The velvet drapes drawn over the windows plunged the chamber into premature shadow. He blinked while adjusting to thelack of light.

But even within the inky blackness of the room, it was easy enough to see the pair of golden eyes—agleam with all the predatory interest of a feline—watching him from the bed.

The eyes of a witch.

The eyes of the Princess Mariana, eldest of the Arathian king’s daughters.

He jerked his head to the side, choosing to take an interest in the dark silhouette of the guard looming over the woman rather than the woman herself. The guard stared back, his features unreadable.

“It went well, my lord?” The princess’s question unfurled from the darkness on a smoky rasp, leaving Caspar fighting against the sudden tremble coursing down his spine.

He bowed low and offered a hasty, “Your Highness,” in greeting. The silence which followed left Caspar toying with one of his many rings. “Yes, well, it could have gone…better, I dare say. The king seems reluctant to commit one way or the other. But the dowager queen intervened and, ah…” How in the world had he gotten himself into this mess? “…yes, her interest was…a surprising stroke of luck. It will surely be our way forward.”

“Not luck,” Princess Mariana softly contradicted. “Never luck.”

Caspar took a step back as the woman pushed herself to a sitting position. It was rather unnerving, the way her eyes bored into him when she quietly declared, “We must give thanks to Our Lady Below for this gift.”

If Caspar had a death wish, he would have wrinkled his nose at those words. Instead, he pasted on one of his usual, empty smiles. “Of course, Your Highness. You’re quite right.”

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