Chapter 14

14

A clear head and a calm demeanor must be adopted to deal with those who manipulate.

~ “Royalty and Politics” Scribe Menalow

Kaylina crept through the dark passageway, her fingers on the dusty wall for guidance. She remembered how to get to Targon’s office but couldn’t see a thing and worried about bumping into obstacles. At night, with few others in the building, sounds would carry.

She found the stairs and climbed, not encountering Targon. He hadn’t waited for her.

When she stepped onto the landing at the top, the sound of voices reaching her ear, she swept out with her arm, not wanting to run into him. The air was empty, the landing so quiet that she wondered if he’d turned somewhere along the way, heading to another spot from which to eavesdrop.

“You don’t think Targon will mind, do you?” Petalira’s voice came distinctly through the bookcase that marked the hidden entrance to the captain’s office.

“He will, but he won’t say anything to you about it, Your Majesty.” Vlerion’s tone was distant and aloof, his voice coming from the far side of the office. It sounded like he was lingering by the door while the queen wandered around, doing who knew what.

“I wouldn’t have expected to be able to experience such delight in the office of someone as rough and uncouth as he.”

Kaylina glanced into the darkness, as if she could see Targon and gauge his response to being called uncouth, but not a sound came from the landing, and she again questioned if he was there with her.

“Do you enjoy such experiences, Lord Vlerion?” Petalira patted something. The desk? A chair?

Kaylina frowned. The queen wasn’t suggesting they have sex in the office, was she?

No. It was silly to keep thinking the queen was here for that reason. Just because she slept with Targon didn’t mean she wanted the same from Vlerion. Even if she did , Kaylina didn’t need to worry about Vlerion giving in to her. He was… they were… Well, if anyone was going to get to have sex with Vlerion, she was, damn it.

“I do not,” he stated.

“Never? Do you worry about losing your… equanimity?”

There was a long pause. Was that the queen’s way of telling him she knew his secret?

“I do prefer to keep my mind sharp and my emotions in check,” Vlerion said coolly.

“Even in bed?”

If Vlerion answered, it was with his face instead of words. Kaylina clenched her jaw, wishing she could spring out there and stand in front of Vlerion to protect him from whatever feminine wiles Petalira was attempting to employ.

But Vlerion, she told herself firmly, didn’t need protecting. Only if something happened that threatened to bring out the beast might she have justification to intervene.

Something clinked softly in the office. A bottle against a glass?

The faintest of exhales—more a slight grunt of understanding than a sigh—came from the corner of the landing. Targon was up there.

“Are you sure you don’t want some?” Petalira asked, and Kaylina realized she’d poured a drink. That was what she’d been talking about.

“I’m sure.”

“It may make my proposal sound more appealing.”

“Then I’m certain I don’t want any alcohol.”

Petalira laughed, the sound rich but not entirely genuine. Maybe she didn’t want to be here, proposing… whatever she intended to propose. Was it possible she was nervous ?

“So mistrustful, Lord Vlerion.” A pause followed as Petalira sipped from her drink. Or maybe gulped down a deep and bracing amount. “You’re aware, I trust, that my son has returned home.”

“I heard.”

“Enrikon has made it clear he doesn’t believe I should continue to have a role in running the kingdom, even though I’ve spent the last ten years having a great deal to do with the daily decision-making and long-term planning. Gavatorin had been losing his sharpness for years, though we kept it from the public, to honor him.”

“And so the public would believe the decisions being made were his,” Vlerion stated.

“As the king, his decisions were never questioned.”

Not exactly a yes but it amounted to the same.

“Enrikon,” Petalira continued, “believes he’ll simply unwind everything we’ve been working toward and be the sole decision-maker going forward. Never mind that he spent his youth evading his tutors and has had no involvement with running the kingdom these past years. His father wanted him to show more interest, to start to take on duties in the government, but he wasn’t inclined.” She took an audible drink. “Until now.”

Vlerion said nothing. He had to be wondering why she was telling him all this. Kaylina wondered why.

“One isn’t supposed to speak ill of one’s children,” Petalira continued, “but it is what it is. He’s thirty and acts like a boy. He would run the kingdom into ruin. I don’t intend to let that happen.”

“Your Majesty,” Vlerion said, “if your proposal tonight is to hire me to assassinate him, that is not an assignment I would accept. I am certain Spymaster Sabor left a book of contacts with an extensive list of people who could take on the duty, should someone who was in your employ not be willing to do it.”

“I’m not looking to have my son killed, Lord Vlerion.” She truly sounded horrified.

Too bad. The prince had been snotty. Kaylina doubted anyone would miss him.

“Then what?”

“For the senior lords and ladies to come together, as is their right in our government doctrines, to reject Enrikon’s claim to the throne and instead stand behind another. Enrikon could return to his life of avarice and ease, and I would even continue the exceedingly generous allowance that his father approved for him, however galling it is for the kingdom’s money to go to that.”

“You would,” Vlerion said, his tone flat.

“Yes, me. I know what you’re thinking, that my blood, though aristocratic, is not royal , that my only claim to power has been through my husband. That is all true.” Her voice grew bitter when she added, “As I’m well aware. As those I’ve sought support from have already told me. The aristocrats would not back me as the situation stands. Even though it is right for the kingdom. They know that. You must also know it. You’ve met Enrikon.”

“Numerous times,” Vlerion said.

“You can’t tell me you want to serve him.”

Vlerion didn’t answer. Kaylina wished she dared slide the bookcase open a couple of inches so she could see their faces, but it was so quiet in the building… She couldn’t risk even a whisper of noise.

“But you’d have to. If Enrikon is coronated, your oath as a ranger that you swore to King Gavatorin and the kingdom would extend to him.”

“I’m aware.”

A long silence fell, and Kaylina imagined the queen staring intently across the office at Vlerion.

“You’ve a blood tie to the throne. A direct blood tie. If Enrikon had not come into existence, the nobles would have asked if your family wanted to return to rule before reaching out to those with weaker ties. And since you are the only male left alive in your line…”

“What is it that you want from me, Your Majesty?” Vlerion asked.

“I wish to propose to you, Lord Vlerion.” Vlerion must have given her a blank look because Petalira clarified. “I wish to wed you, Lord Vlerion.”

Kaylina’s jaw descended, possibly all the way to the floor.

“You what?” Vlerion sounded almost as stunned.

“The nobles will back you if I tell them to,” Petalira said, “and if we were to marry, nothing would change for me. I’d have the same power, the same right to make decisions, even if they still had to be in my husband’s name.” That bitterness lingered in her voice.

Kaylina realized this was a move of desperation for her. How not? Petalira didn’t like Vlerion. She couldn’t want to marry him and let him take the credit for whatever she did, the same as Gavatorin must have.

“I have no desire to marry you, Your Majesty.” Vlerion was back to cool and calm.

“I have no doubt, but we do what we must for the good of the kingdom.”

“You assume your influence has been good for the kingdom? When there have been riots, invasions, and assassination attempts? In this year alone?”

“The existence of the scheming, power-hungry Virts doesn’t mean I’ve not been a good queen. Besides, it’s not as if I’ve made decisions alone. You know Sabor had a hand in things, and Lord Grifhan has blackmailed his way into a position of power. And Gavatorin’s hand-selected Lord of Foreign Affairs butts in on a daily basis.” Sounding exasperated, Petalira took a deep breath—and possibly another drink—before continuing. “If you joined me, we could push them out. You must have ideas. I… wouldn’t insist that you be a figurehead.” Despite the words, her tone made it sound like a figurehead was exactly what she wanted. “I would be open to ruling jointly, as long as I continued to have a place and influence in areas that I consider important. What do you say, Lord Vlerion?”

Another long silence fell.

Kaylina stared into the darkness, again wishing she could see their faces. She didn’t think Vlerion would consider this, but she couldn’t help but hold her breath, waiting for his answer.

“I have no desire to rule, Your Majesty, nor do I wish to wed you.”

“I already told you,” Petalira snapped, frustration bubbling over, “it’s not about what you want. It’s for the good of the kingdom. As a ranger, it’s your duty to work toward that end.”

“But it is not my duty to marry you.”

“If you’re worried about your buxom little female, I don’t care about her. Rut with her every night if you wish. Just come to the royal bedchamber often enough that the staff doesn’t gossip, so others believe we have a legitimate marriage. I’m not that old and dreadful. Just ask your captain.”

“We do not discuss sex.”

Petalira snorted. “ All men discuss sex. Often and crudely. Listen, I slept with Gavatorin, by the grace of the most patient gods, even though he was a wizened raisin who could barely find his cock with his own hand.”

Kaylina swallowed, getting more details than she’d bargained for—than she’d wanted—during this eavesdropping session.

“You’d be severely less tortured being with me,” Petalira added. “You might even find my experience makes up for my lack of youth, though, if I’ve gotten the gist from the snatches of conversations I’ve heard, we might not want you to find the experience too stimulating.”

“Queen Petalira,” Vlerion said, a hint of exasperation creeping into his earlier detached calm, “I will not marry you. If I wanted the throne, I wouldn’t need to wed you to make a claim on it.”

Yes. Kaylina clenched a fist. That was a good point. If she grasped the political history well enough, he had as much of a claim as Prince Enrikon.

“You would find the route to obtaining it easier with my assistance,” Petalira said stiffly. “Do not think that just because a few guards looked the other way when you fled the castle to escape my spymaster that you would have everyone’s support. I’m experienced. I could guide you. You’ve proven yourself a heroic ranger fighting in the city and on the borders, but you’re a young man who’s rarely at court. You’d need guidance, advisors. People you could trust.”

Only the need to stay silent kept Kaylina from scoffing. As if Vlerion could trust Petalira.

“That young mead-making frill can’t advise you on anything,” the queen added.

The need to stay silent also kept Kaylina from throwing aside the bookcase, springing into the office, and strangling the queen.

“Your Majesty,” Vlerion said. “Kaylina is far from a frill, and you would have been better served making a friend of her. Regardless, I will not consider your offer. Let us finish this meeting.”

“Yes, let us. But one last word for you to think over. Spymaster Milnor, as it presently stands, believes you were responsible for his predecessor’s death, and he wants you dead. He has the means to make that happen.”

“Sabor also thought he had the means to make that happen,” Vlerion said coolly, “and Sabor is dead.”

“Not by your hand. I’ve talked to Jana Bloomlong. I know what happened in that alley. He threw some potion and knocked you out. You would be dead if not for the girl stepping in.”

“The girl with the power of the ancient druids.”

“So I understand. Strange to think that such a ditzy young thing has power of any sort. At least she’s loyal to you, eh, Vlerion? I hope you’re tonguing her to climax multiple times every night, because she deserves a good time for standing at the side of someone so practiced at making enemies.”

Kaylina almost rocked back, cheeks flaming at the turn in the discussion, at such bluntness about sex coming from a royal. How could Vlerion—all the rangers, for that matter—have ever sworn loyalty to these people? None of them deserved the rangers or the taybarri.

A faint click sounded. A door opening?

“You will leave now, Your Majesty.” Vlerion gave the order in the same tone that he used when he commanded his rangers.

“Do not also make an enemy of me, Lord Vlerion,” Petalira said, ice in her tone. “Even if the king is dead, it’s not acceptable for you to give me orders.”

“Then it will be even more unacceptable if I carry you over my shoulder and toss you into your carriage.”

“It’s a mystery as to why people want you dead.”

“It is,” he said agreeably.

The door thumped shut.

Trusting the queen had left, Kaylina slumped backward, thinking she would find the wall to lean against for support. Instead, she encountered Targon and jerked away. He must have moved closer to hear better. She hoped that was the only reason he’d moved closer.

“Careful,” he said, sounding far more amused by the situation than she, “all that talk of tongues and climaxes got me excited. I won’t be able to contain myself if you rub up against me.”

“That’s not what I was doing.”

The bookcase slid aside, lantern light brightening the landing and revealing Vlerion’s silhouette. Kaylina sprang into his arms, possibly an overly dramatic gesture. She told herself she was disturbed by the queen’s threats, not because she’d accidentally bumped into Targon. Hugging Vlerion was a natural reaction to the situation he found himself in.

He wrapped an arm around her while glaring at Targon, who remained on the landing, arms folded across his chest as he casually leaned against the wall. “Relax, Vlerion. And don’t give me your beast eyes. I didn’t touch her.”

Kaylina leaned back to look into Vlerion’s face, afraid his eyes would have the glint that signaled the beast might soon rouse. She hadn’t meant to alarm him.

But he merely looked irked. Probably with the queen and the day’s events more than with his captain.

“I was a perfect gentleman,” Targon added, strolling into the office.

He frowned at a bottle of expensive whiskey sitting open on the desk next to a half-full tumbler. Was that what the queen had been drinking? Straight? She had needed bracing for that conversation.

“Be careful if you marry her,” Targon said. “She likes her drink and gets demanding in bed once she’s fortified herself with it.”

“I expected to find Kaylina eavesdropping back there,” Vlerion said, squeezing her to let her know he hadn’t minded. “I didn’t think you’d listen in.”

“I like to know what shenanigans are being discussed in my own office. Korbian also told me that Milnor wants you dead. She thought the queen might want you dead too. I imagine this was a surprise.” Targon smirked at Kaylina.

Was he truly amused by all this?

“To all of us.” Vlerion released Kaylina and looked at her. “You were right. I should have gone with you to your castle. Maybe I still should. Then your plant could wave its vines at anyone who comes by, wanting to embroil me in plans to further their ambitions.”

“You think more people might proposition you?” Targon sat in his seat, tossing his legs up on the desk. “Or should I say propose to you? Lord Grifhan and Sabor used to hang out. Maybe Grifhan wouldn’t mind a husband.”

“I prefer your dour moods to your jubilant ones, Captain,” Vlerion said.

“I’m positive nobody has ever said that before, certainly nobody I command.”

“And yet, it’s a truth.”

Kaylina patted Vlerion on the chest. “You’re very welcome to come stay at Stillguard Castle, but I can’t promise the sentinel will attack conniving aristocrats unless they threaten me. I talked it into letting people come in since I didn’t want potential customers being scared away. Or killed.”

“She admits she talks to plants, and you still want her in your arms,” Targon said. “It’s been fascinating watching this relationship develop.”

“The plants talk back,” Vlerion said.

“Oh, I believe it.”

“I’ll chat with it and see about adding conniving aristocrats to the list of forbidden people,” Kaylina said, hoping Vlerion would come back with her. “If nothing else, the castle’s reputation might make them think twice about approaching you there.”

“Yes.” Vlerion looked wistful.

“You’ll enjoy staying there. There aren’t skeletons in any of the rooms anymore, and it’s been weeks since the castle moaned or a chandelier fell.” Kaylina glanced at a clock. “Even better, we’re about halfway through the hours of the dinner service, so those dishes I mentioned will be piling up in the sink.” She patted his chest again. “Frayvar and I would love your strong ranger arms to assist with them.”

Targon blinked. “You’re going to wash dishes for her?”

“To escape proposals? I might.”

Targon looked shocked—or maybe scandalized. Did the queen not ask him to perform domestic duties after sleeping over?

“I’ve washed dishes for you, Captain,” Vlerion pointed out.

“ All trainees wash dishes for the kitchen. Except, now that I think about it, I don’t think she has. How have you escaped that duty, Korbian?”

“I suspect my training has been atypical.”

Targon grunted. “ You’re atypical.”

“Yes, she is.” Vlerion smiled and rested a hand on Kaylina’s shoulder.

Though she was aware of Targon watching them, she couldn’t keep from leaning into Vlerion, loving that he didn’t mind that she wasn’t normal. And she loved that he wasn’t normal either.

“I can’t imagine what you’ve done to earn it,” Targon said, “but she looks at you a lot more adoringly than Petalira does.”

“She’s a much more appealing soul than the queen is.” Vlerion wrapped an arm around Kaylina again.

“I can’t deny that. Even if she’s mouthy and only says my lord when she wants something from me. Like access to my secret passage.” Targon smirked as if that was supposed to be a sexual innuendo. Knowing him, it probably was. “You’ll stay at ranger headquarters though, Vlerion. As much as the idea of you wearing an apron and washing dishes tickles me, nothing has changed. You can feel the tension when you walk through the city, and now that the prince is back… it’s going to get tenser. The rangers will likely be needed at some point to deal with protestors and plotters.”

“Stillguard Castle isn’t far.” Kaylina gripped Vlerion’s arm, wanting him close.

She didn’t believe he needed her—or her castle—to protect him, especially when her earlier rescue had been unnecessary. But now that he was of interest to people, for far more than his abilities as a ranger, she couldn’t help but want to be close to him, to watch out for him. And it was possible the sentinel could help if enemies desiring to do more than wed him showed up.

“It’s far enough,” Targon said, “and the rest of our rangers still can’t go in there, right?”

“I wouldn’t advise it,” Kaylina said.

“ You can stay in headquarters here, if you two want to be close, but since Vlerion is always on the edge of losing control around you, I can’t imagine you two are doing as much with tongues as the queen thinks.”

A low growl in Vlerion’s throat promised he didn’t want his captain discussing their sex life—or lack thereof. Kaylina agreed wholeheartedly, even if she didn’t growl.

A soft knock sounded at the door.

“What?” Targon looked at the clock, exasperation crossing his face.

Past his bedtime, was it?

The corporal who’d been guarding the gate earlier poked his head inside. “There’s someone to see Lord Vlerion, Captain?”

“Someone else ?” Targon asked.

“Yes, my lord. The woman we weren’t supposed to know is the queen has left with her guards, but another woman showed up. She’s wearing a cloak and was being furtive and wouldn’t give us her name, but she has a newspaper and said Lord Vlerion would want to see it. It, uhm, has his name in it.”

The corporal looked at Vlerion but quickly shifted his gaze toward the floor. Embarrassed? No… He almost looked scared.

Something told Kaylina he’d seen more than Vlerion’s name in the newspaper.