Page 124 of The Beast Of Gloomenthrall

Polite chit chat first, okay, Alia would oblige. “I would place it amongst my top three favourite funeral processions.”

“Hah, you’re funny. Good. You’ll need a sense of humour.”

For this talk? Or for some other diabolical thing Lady Cecelia had up her sleeve?

“I’ve never been a fan of these bridal candidate gatherings. But Zari has been dragging his feet when it comes to marrying… too much of his life has been spent running around playing soldier, if you ask me. But my son, the King, insisted upon the competition. Strangely, he does not appear to recall that he himself took an age to meet and marry a suitable woman.”

Um, okay…? Alia could not participate in the conversation as she had no idea where it was leading.

“But I must say, this season has proven most exciting. It reminds me of when my son, Zariffe, first met Ostrellie. High drama indeed. Missing jewels, a dead body… and that mysterious fire.”

“As far as I’m aware there have been no fires, nor has anything gone missing.”

“Oh, but you’ve more than made up for that with the… let me see, seven… no, eight dead bodies. I forgot to include the bard. Although why Baron Soutner would invite a bard to accompany him and his friend on a fishing expedition, I will never know. I’m a novice, but I would have thought music would scare away the fish.”

“I couldn’t say.”

“And how unfortunate that the riverbank gave away beneath the boy… his father diving in to save him, his friend, and all his servants following his example… even the bard. And how ironic that only the boy would manage to drag himself out of the river’s clutches.”

There was pointed silence for a moment, as if Alia was supposed to contribute something to the conversation, but she had already determined that would not be wise and remained close-lipped. Taking a pretend sip of tea instead.

“And that poor boy, an orphan, but then not. Claimed by his mother, who declares him a dual heir title holder. A happy miracle if you would… which would the make the boy your… nephew, it would seem.” Lady Cecelia’s flint eyes narrowed as Alia continued to do nothing but sit there and listen attentively. “Personally, I thought the pomp and ceremony of the funeral procession a little much, but I would still place it high on my own personal list, second probably. Although it would take a lot to displace my number one choice… where the coffin fell off the carriage. Unfortunately, the lid had not been secured properly.”

Alia was grateful she was only pretending to sip her tea as she would surely have choked right then. Setting the cup down perhaps a little more forcefully than she intended. “I wonder if I might enquire as to what reason we are having this little… chat?”

“I don’t frighten you even a little bit, do I?” The polite mask fell and a canny watchful manipulator pinned Alia with an intrigued expression. A small smile tugging up the edges of her lips.

“No. And you appear equally unimpressed by my reputation.”

“You mean the whole Beast conjecture? I assume there’s some truth to the tale?”

“Perhaps.” Alia acknowledged.

“Fangs and claws? Should I be afeared for my life?”

In a lightning fast move Alia palmed a knife, held it up and then disappeared it just as fast. “Of course not.” Though she smiled, baring her teeth for a split second.

Lady Cecelia laughed in response. “Funny, intriguing, and deadly… I like you. I think you’ll be very good for him… and good for the Vallas Realm.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, don’t play coy at this late stage. We’re talking about you and my grandson.”

“I thought you favoured Lady Evagene.”

“Please. The moment I smiled fondly at her it was basically the kiss of death for her chances. Zari likes to play master spy and manipulator, trained by his father. But who do you think trained the King? I did. And there’s nothing… nothing a man dislikes more than a woman his family whole heartedly approve of.”

“So now you intend to approve of me? I’ll save you the breath, I have no intention of marrying anyone… let alone Talac.”

“Talac, hmmm? He always did prefer that nickname. Do you know what the requirements are to be Queen of this Realm?”

“Biddable. Quiet. And… docile.”

“Hah! Please. The Queen must have an iron will. Acting as a general, not just in charge of the staff, but all the Realm’s subjects. She must be a master manipulator, flattering the egos of aristos, scholars and diplomats to get them to fall in line with her agenda… without them ever realising it. Even her own husband, son… grandson, must be guided, herded… tricked sometimes into doing what is needed.”

“And you think I would make a suitable Queen?”

“Yes. You lead already, I can tell by the way you hold yourself and the way you approach others. Sizing them up, deciding in an instant whether to intimidate them, instruct them, or order them about.”

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