She didn’t answer, but her frown told him she hadn’t.
“I did,” he said simply. “When I was fifteen, I realized it would be wise of me to seek a more unbiased report about the incident. I spoke to all three of the commander’s aides who were present in the tent that day. Even though by then it had been three years, they all gave a consistent account. All were agreed that the Mistran soldiers seemed shocked at the realization of who they’d attacked. Father was prone and injured. They could have finished him off then, but they withdrew. No doubt to seek instructions in light of the drastic turn their mission had taken.”
Lilac frowned at him. “Whose side are you on, Basil?”
“Ours,” said Basil promptly, and with feeling. “Entolia’s, until the final beat of my heart.” His eyes sought his mother’s face again. “I bitterly regret what happened that day, and I always will. I don’t condone the Mistrans’ attack. But they were soldiers, Mother, on a battlefield. We can’t assign them the blame of murderers.”
His mother wouldn’t meet his eye, but he could see from her discomfort that she recognized the truth in his words. Satisfied, he said no more.
“How did it go with the council?” Zinnia asked curiously. “When you told them that Your Royal Majesty plans to trot along into Mistra yourself?”
Basil shot her a wry look. “Apparently the council’s habit of only telling their monarch what he wants to hear has not transferred with the crown.”
She grinned. “Tried to tie you to the council table, did they?”
Basil grunted. “Literally, no. But in essence, yes. Although I hardly think my safety was their true concern. Most of them find the idea of negotiating peace via compromise as hard to swallow as Father did. I offered them the opportunity to accompany me and see that I come to no harm. Strangely, they were mostly uninterested in taking up that offer.”
To his surprise, Zinnia didn’t laugh. Instead, she looked troubled.
“But you can’t just leave, Basil,” the queen tried again. “You’re needed here more than ever! You’ve just been crowned—there’s so much to take care of!”
“I know,” Basil acknowledged. “And I wouldn’t leave at such a time for anything less important than stopping a war. But to be frank, I don’t think there’s a single member of the council whom I would trust to undertake the task on my behalf. They don’t believe in my cause, and they’re not yet accustomed to following my direction whether they agree or not.” He frowned slightly at his mother. “And of course you’ll have regency while I’m gone. I have no doubt you’ll handle things as well as I would, if not better.”
“What?” The queen looked aghast. “Basil, I’ve never been trained to be a reigning monarch like you have. I can’t take on that role.”
“Of course you can,” said Basil, with a touch of impatience. “What nonsense is this about not being trained? What do you call twenty years of being married to the king? Mother, I’m eighteen years old. My training can’t possibly equal the experience you have. You’re more than capable of running the kingdom without my presence.”
And, he added in his head,unless I’m very much mistaken, it will be an excellent thing for you.Much better than sitting around in her rooms, with nothing to do but be swallowed by her grief.
As if reading his thoughts, the queen went on, her voice not quite steady. “Your father never expected me to take on responsibility in matters of state.”
Basil sighed. “That’s because Father held the belief that a strong monarch is one who rules alone and unchallenged. But I don’t share that view.” He passed a hand through his hair, disarranging it. “Unless I’m much mistaken, I’m going to need all the help I can get.”
True to his word, Basil dispatched a courier that very afternoon. He watched from the battlements of the castle as the man rode away toward the border. How would King Lloyd receive his request? For all his confident words, Basil wasn’t at all sure the Mistran monarchs would take well to the idea of hosting Entolia’s new king.
Once the courier was out of sight, Basil turned his gaze southward, toward the ocean. He felt his tension leak out, calmed by the sight of the waves pounding relentlessly, uncaringly, predictably against the cliffs. Whether he succeeded or failed, whatever his populace thought of his rule…whatever hisfatherwould have thought of it…the tide would continue to ebb and flow, and the waves would beat against the rocks. He didn’t need to be a spectacular king—in fact, it was better if he wasn’t. What Entolia needed from its throne was less ego and more quiet stability. If he could pull them out of war and make the wheels turn smoothly for the kingdom’s basic function, he would be well satisfied. He suspected even that would take every bit of his effort, for the many decades likely still to come in his rule.
Letting out a sigh, Basil strode back into the castle. It would take time for his message to reach the Mistran capital, and for King Lloyd’s reply to reach Tola, even if all went well. The courier was unlikely to return in much less than a week.
With a great effort of will, Basil put Mistra and the war from his mind, and turned his thoughts to the thousand other things requiring his urgent attention.
Chapter Five
Wren knelt down at the water’s edge, dipping her fingers into the pond.
That’s freezing!she protested, turning to the large swan leaning against her leg.How can you sleep in that?
Caleb’s trumpet sounded like a chuckle in Wren’s mind.You get used to it.
A shrieking honk drew both of their eyes toward the middle of the pond. Wren sighed at the sight of Bram and Conan, engaged in their favorite occupation.
“Your Highness. Do you mind if I join you?”
The gentle voice made both Wren and Caleb start. Turning, Wren smiled warmly at the young woman before her. Feeling Caleb fidget at her side, she heroically refrained from smirking at him.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt…” Lady Anneliese trailed off uncertainly, and Wren hastened to stand, brushing her hands off on her skirt. She gave the young noblewoman another smile, and gestured toward a nearby bench.
The two women lowered themselves onto the seat, Caleb making his slower way over with his lopsided waddle.