Chapter 72

Roan

Fucking noblemen. Was this what it was like to be born as one of the toffs? To simply propose putting this man or that man in power, like it wouldn't cause untold death and destruction. Not just of King Magnus. I wouldn't piss in the man's eye socket if his brain caught fire. Even some of the lords who stood by as the old king was slain, it wouldn't be just them that'd die, but their soldiers, their guards, their servants. People who had the misfortune to be in the way as the powerful clashed.

I realised then it was far too long since I'd seen my sisters and their families. I was glad Creed had struck back, rousing the wolf shifters and leading them away from their bullshit agreement with the crown, but that put my family in danger. So I thought of them as the powerful men spoke, seeing little Denny, the boy barely walking last time I saw him, or Geneva, rushing forward to give me a messy posy made up of all the flowers in my sister, Desiree's garden. Of Desi or Verity or Hailey, all of my other sisters, fussing around in the kitchen as I sat down. Kids climbing all over my shoulders, tugging my hair, pulling out my belt knife, only for their mother to swoop in and retrieve it. I'd faced down Lanzenian or Mattenite troops, all so they didn't have to.

"If you're all here, you must have some sort of plan," Arik said, staring each man down. "Now would be a good time to share the details."

"An accident," the Duke of Fallspire said with a slow smile, many of his cronies grinning in response. "It would be the simplest and easiest way to transfer power. None of the messiness of an assassination. The killing of kings is unsettling for people." His gaze landed on Silas' father. "And gives people ideas. A tragic accident would be a perfect way to rid ourselves of this king. Perhaps a loose girth strap on his saddle, resulting in him falling to his death. Or perhaps a slip in the bath."

More chuckles from around the table.

"It's not a fitting end for a man that murdered your father or…" The Duke's gaze locked with Arik and while I hadn't been there when the prince found his lady love's body, I knew that's what they saw in their mind's eye. "My Ariel. The man deserves to die screaming, feeling the same sort of agony he inflicted on her poor body. Over and over until his throat gives out and he splatters the marble floor with his blood. That's what I want."

For a second I thought the duke a normal man, still grieving the death of his daughter, but that's not how the high and mighty work. Power and influence, that's what beats in their veins, not honest red blood.

"But an opportune accident will serve our purposes. The king is dead. The gods have withdrawn their favour from Magnus and he has died as a result. He has let the country fall into war, but you, Arik, the golden prince—"

The Bastard Prince, I corrected silently.

"Will be the country's liberator. You are bonded to one of the beast men, correct?"

"Creed, Roan and Silas, we are all a pack," came Arik's response.

That forced his dukeness to look my way and I wondered for just a moment as to what he would see, but I received barely a glance. He focused on Silas far longer, him being the son of the Raven and all, and then looked pointedly at the empty seat beside him.

"And where is your… pack mate?"

"Liberating the country." I watched Arik sit back in his chair, arms crossed and knew that arrogant smirk of his would be making an appearance. Yep, there it was. "Well, liberating his people from an agreement that is not in their favour."

"‘Liberating' the wolf shifters?" one of the other lords spluttered. "What the hell is he liberating them from? Protecting our bloody borders? Stopping our blasted enemies from coming forward and taking our land?"

"But not the packlands." I grinned then, finally getting their attention, but realising I didn't need it, because when I met Arik's gaze, I could see the prince was one step ahead of me already. "With every available male in the country heading back home, there's no force on earth that will overwhelm them. We could retreat back there."

Arik nodded, encouraging me to speak freely, because I was willing to bet I saw exactly what he did. The whole of Khean turned to ruin while Jessalyn, my family and Silas' and Creed's all were kept safe within the packlands. It'd clean out the foetid swamp that bubbled within the capital's walls and leave a slate burned blank by war for us to write our own destiny upon.

"We wouldn't need for the king to die by ‘accident.' He and everyone else…"

And that's when my throat closed up, my focus darting back to Arik. My pipe dream popped then as I saw the sheer number of people who knew nothing about the struggle for power between two brothers, who couldn't even tell you who the king was. They didn't deserve to die. Arik nodded, just a tiny little thing, but I'd learned to read him closely. This was a game, a dangerous one, but he needed to play it through.

"Would die." The Duke said that bluntly, staring the lot of us down, but I was gratified that his smug expression was wiped from his face. "That's not a sacrifice you would've been prepared to make before, Arik."

"Prince Arik."

He reminded the duke of his rightful title with an offhanded air, because nobles? They were like poker players. They might have a shit hand of cards, but they always played it like they had a royal flush just waiting there, because maybe, just maybe, if you managed to bamboozle your opponent into folding, you might walk away with the pot.

"King Arik, first of his name." Yeah, the Duke was starting to see the lay of the land, even if his fellow lords were spluttering. "Has quite a nice ring to it. The first king of your house to have a blood bond to the beast men." He glanced at the lot of us. "And to the son of the Raven of Khean…"

His eyes landed on me, one eyebrow rising in question. What did I bring to the table? I asked myself that a whole fucking lot, but right now I had an answer.

"A common man," I replied with a sharp smile. "Heir to a small parcel in the stews. Brother of many fine women who serve you when you go to the markets, to the shops in the nice end of town, who might take your hat if you enter one of the city lord's place, or serve you those funny little finger foods if you dine at the castle. Son to a blacksmith who got into debt for not paying his taxes, so I was sent as payment to become a soldier. Friend to the men who shine your boots, saddle your horses, serve you beer and if you want any of those things to continue, all of you…"

My focus shifted back to Arik.

"…better find a way to get through this conflict with little bloodshed. The king wants to marry Princess Jessalyn of Stormare and kill her, like he has done all of the other princesses. You need to make sure he doesn't. It's written into her marriage contract that Stormare can call upon its allies, Lanzene and Matteau, and declare war if anything happens to Jessalyn."

"Those two countries have been at each other's throats for years," the Duke snapped. "You expect me to believe they'll leave off their hereditary bickering to attack us?"

"You know what Roan is saying is true." Silas used the chiding tone a teacher might use with a child. "The raiding you're experiencing right now? That's just them testing the borders, gathering intelligence so that when the full forces arrive, they will be able to report how poorly defended our borders are. Birds would've already been sent carrying messages about their early successes. They'll break the deadlock they've been in for all these years to use their combined might against us. They'll eradicate all of the Kheanians that lay within the borders, then start their fight again over what's left."

"Is your brother mad?" the Duke asked Arik. "Does he not realise what the hell he is doing? Would he put the entire country at risk for just one girl?"

"Probably." The Raven drawled, drawing small circles on the wooden table with his heavily be-ringed fingers. "I make it my business to study the predilections of those in power."

The pause seemed to grow heavier and heavier as each second passed, the lords starting to shift restlessly on the other side of the table.

"And after a long and somewhat bloody relationship with the king, I think I know what makes him tick. He's a very small man who, through the luck of birth, found himself in a position of great power and that creates a tension within him. One he feels the need to relieve regularly through the pain of others. When he's beating a girl bloody or wrapping his hands around her throat and squeezing, the knowledge of what he is—how pathetic and undeserving—all fades away."

The Raven smiled bitterly, but that was nothing compared to the way I felt. I could see Jessalyn experiencing each one of those horrific acts, her hands clawing at the kings as he tried to choke the life out of her. My hand found my sword, gripping the hilt tight until the Raven continued his speech.

"That cycle of exerting his power, feeling like he rules the world, and not just Khean, accompanies him when he leaves my brothels, only to be slowly eroded. Every time he makes a decision and a general or an advisor is forced to step in and correct it. Every time he sees someone do something competently, from planning the defence of our nation, to darning his socks, is like a wound to his heart. His sense of self is chipped away over and over until he's forced back to my brothels, that repulsive woman he calls mistress in tow. He must exorcise the demons of his own inadequacy through blood and pain. Always other people's blood and pain. That's what he cares about, not the country or the treaty with the beast men, just that."

"Well, he'll have that in spades if war comes." The duke's lips were now a thin line.

"But we'll be the ones that bear the brunt of it." The burly border lord stroked his hand through his beard. "There'll be nothing left of us before the capital even rouses itself to care. This can't stand, Your Grace."

"No, it can't." Arik straightened up and right then I could see it. Him dressed in velvet and ermine or whatever it was that kings wore, a golden crown on his head. "So death by ‘accident.'" He nodded slowly, then turned to the Raven. "What exactly did you have in mind and what will be the cost?"

Silas' father smiled slowly.

"I'm so glad you asked."