Page 15 of Kept

The Council chamber smelled of stale sweat and soured blood-wine. Tonight, every seat at the stone table map of Ter Isir was occupied. Jordan of Twyl toyed with one of the iron night-blooming roses that marked a spot where the Deepnight had disappeared. Two of the highest-ranking priests of the Sanctum sat with blood-stained beards and dour expressions. The lords of the Council had removed their jackets, and several had rolled up their sleeves. Varick’s captains looked like they’d rather be at the Rift, ambushes be damned.

Varick stood leaning against the wall with his thick arms folded over his chest. His eyes glittered with dislike as he listened to Artur of Lar Guna ramble about the events at the Rift.

Given was a cool, quiet wellspring of beauty in the room of tired, temperamental males. She sat at my right hand, her hair caught back from her face and a simple crimson gown hugging her curves. I wanted to ask how she was. If she’d eaten. Varick had undoubtedly seen to her needs. Not that she required a keeper. But she deserved chivalry. She deserved better than what she’d gotten from me.

“—and Petru’s death is the least of our problems,” Lar Guna said angrily.

I jerked my head toward him. “Petru was a servant of the gods.” Across the table, one of the iron rose markers in front of Jordan shivered and tipped over. It rolled to the edge of the table. Jordan caught it before it fell.

Under his whiskers, Lar Guna’s cheeks turned pink. He darted a look at the priests. “I meant no disrespect, Your Grace. We all mourn the High Priest’s death.”

Undoubtedly, Lar Guna was sincere. The male had his faults, but he was a faithful follower of the Sanctum. My mother had trusted him completely. It was a shame he was such an uptight, unlikable cunt.

I stared at him until his cheeks turned red. “Perhaps we should all endeavor to mourn more convincingly.” I left him squirming in his chair and swept my gaze around the table. “I wish to speak to what I view as our most immediately pressing security concern. I began today believing Sithistra was neutralized as a threat because there is no claimant to the throne. My wife is Baylen of Sithistra’s legitimately born daughter. By all rights, the southern throne belongs to her.”

Lar Guna made a negative sound. “The South will never follow a female, let alone a vampire halfling.”

Briefly, I considered asking Lar Guna if he wished to join Petru in the Rift. I let silence hang heavy in the air before asking, “What gave it away, Artur? The mirrors or the arrows the humans shot at us?”

Across the table, Captain Radu coughed into his fist.

Lar Guna clamped his mouth shut, apparently deciding he’d said enough for the moment.

I turned my gaze back to the rest of the table. “After what happened today, I think we can all agree Lord Rellan Blackmun of the Meadowlands sees himself as the successor to the southern throne.” I looked at Given. “Do you agree with that assessment, my lady?”

Her blue eyes went wide before she recovered. She sat straighter in her chair. “I… Yes, I do, my lord.”

Despite the heaviness of the day, my heart lifted. I’d been wrong to take her across the Rift, but I’d been right to put my mother’s crown on her head. Given was Avenor’s heir as well as Baylen’s. She had more royal blood than I did. It was time for my princess to learn to rule. “You offer us far better intelligence than any spy, my lady. What can you tell us about Lord Rellan?”

Her brow furrowed as she appeared to gather her thoughts. “Lord Rellan has always been ambitious. The Blackmuns were kings in their own right in ages past. Rellan is proud of that heritage. Some might say too proud. He maneuvered his heir, Edwin, into a powerful position at court, and he schemed to put Elissa on the throne from the time she was six months old.” Given’s shoulders lifted in a sigh. “She and Rolund weren’t the best match, but my brother was swayed by Lord Rellan’s money and power.”

“What kind of power?” Lord Sergiu of Lar Bassa asked. He was a young, dark-haired male who’d only recently come into his title after his father’s death. So far, he’d shown himself to be smart, as well as adept at navigating court politics.

“Men,” Given said. “Lord Rellan has a fighting force almost as large as the crown’s, and he has the money to equip them with the best horses and weapons.” She gestured to Sithistra on the table. “The Meadowlands is a vast territory in the southeast where the Northern and Southern Seas meet. The weather is warm year-round, and the land is fertile. Most of Sithistra’s food is grown there, which means Lord Rellan profits from every apple and loaf of bread sold in the South. But the Blackmuns also control a long stretch of coastline. Lord Rellan commands a large navy in addition to his land forces.”

“He sounds like a king already,” Captain Radu muttered.

Lar Guna scowled. “We can’t protect the capital and the Rift with the number of men we have now.” He pinned Radu with a dark look and jabbed a thick finger at the table. “The troop reinforcements from the Wastes were supposed to arrive today. What’s keeping them?”

Radu narrowed his eyes. “Snow, my lord. Winter is upon us. As I’m sure you’re aware, cold weather makes for difficult travel, especially for fighting men weighed down by armor.”

Lar Guna’s scowl deepened. “Your men will get all the heat and sunlight they wish for at the Rift.”

I stiffened. Varick straightened from the wall. Slowly, he unfolded his arms. His eyes glittered, the gold brightening.

Lar Guna looked at me. The red in his cheeks darkened to the shade of his bottom lip. He licked it nervously but pressed on, a hint of challenge in his eyes. “Your Grace, I understand this is a delicate subject, but we’ve yet to hear a suitable explanation for the recent difficulties with the Deepnight.”

Varick’s voice lashed like a whip. “You forget yourself, Lar Guna. It’s not your place to demand an explanation from the king.”

Lar Guna swung toward him. “It is when lowpeople are turning to ash in the fields. Perhaps you don’t care about our citizens dying, General, but I do.”

“Shut your lying mouth or I’ll shut it for you.”

Lar Guna shoved his chair back and stood. “I am not the liar here, Lar Keiren!”

Immediately, both Radu and the other captain jumped to their feet.

Lar Guna was undeterred. He planted both palms on the table and leaned over, his gaze sweeping the other lords. “We sit here and pretend our biggest problem is the South, and we all know it’s a lie.” He flung an arm toward the windows, where night had fallen hours ago. “The canopy isn’t just moving into Sithistra. It’s disappearing. The entire edge of the Rift was exposed today. And everyone insists on tiptoeing around this like we’re all fucking blind.”

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