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[Rough Draft] Chapter 88: Whispers of Sedition

 

Carina found herself somewhat hard-pressed to keep up with the Earl’s angry strides as Percy stormed out of Peony Palace. He was halfway down the palace steps before he halted, then abruptly returned to offer her his arm, which Carina declined with a bemused expression.

The gust of wind, which formed a magical barrier around them, had barely formed before the Earl’s growled out, “I’m going to kill him.”

Although the Earl’s discreet shield prevented any words from leaking out, the Duchess still glanced about to where royal knights in full ceremonial uniform stood around the palace courtyard.

“Will you be returning to Rose Palace?” Percy demanded in a distracted tone as his winter-gray eyes pierced through the courtyard and palace gate ahead of them.

“I don’t know,” Carina murmured before letting out a sigh. “Eleanora will likely be unable to attend.”

“Our future king will want you there.”

The Duchess’s scoffed at the Earl’s blatant frustration and resentment but did not press for the exact cause of his ire.

“I should have known Nicholas would turn out to be every bit the same reckless political monster his father was,” Percy muttered, seemingly unbothered by her lackluster response.

“Should I take that to mean Henri also tied his allies together through marriage?”

The Earl’s clenched jaw twitched in obvious rage as he clenched the silver crow staff in his hand tightly. “The brat has overreached himself. The House of Lords will never consent to either marriage. Serilda was his father’s mistress. And unifying the kingdoms two military forces under one family would destroy any sense of balance between the two parties.”

“Agreed,” Carina murmured as she folded her arms and tapped her fan lightly against her left arm. “I don’t understand Nicholas’s motivation for pushing the marriage—with Captain Beaumont,” she quickly clarified.

Percy paused and turned to regard Peony Palace with a measured look, followed by a cold smile. “It’s a bluff.”

“Pardon?”

“Your marriage—it’s a bluff to keep the Royal Faction in check after Nicholas breaks from the church.” The Earl’s smile faltered as he turned to face her, and his earlier anger resurfaced. “It seems his Majesty is willing to take the risk of banking the security of his reign on yours and Captain Beaumont’s loyalty.”

The Duchess shook her head wordlessly and turned towards the hedges that outlined the garden beds of peony flowers. ‘Beaumont looked rather angry with Nicholas’s proposal. Either he’s against the idea or wasn’t prepared for Nicholas to broach the topic of marriage.’

“Will you follow through with it? The marriage?”

Carina turned to face the Earl’s rather pensive expression and smiled. “I am in no position to consider marriage at all. And like you said—the House of Lords would never agree to it.”

Percy seemed less than satisfied with her response but nodded, a faint smile of relief visible as his gaze dropped to the gravel below his boots. The Duchess also looked away, turning her attention once more to the steeples of the great cathedral as her mind returned to Hana.

“What do we do now?”

The Earl looked up and followed her gaze before responding. “It’s likely these grand gestures are meant to distract us and buy Nicholas more time. He needs this coronation. It will be hard for the Church to justify turning against a king the Pope himself publicly blessed and coronated. Whereas, if Nicholas can prove the corruption among the Church’s members, Jericho will have to accept the King’s decision and make a public show of removing the corruption within his Cardinals and Witch Hunters.”

“Then you believe Nicholas will keep his promise to challenge the Pope hours after his coronation?” Carina pressed doubtfully.

Percy half-turned towards Peony Palace and nodded. “It’s a calculated risk. Nicholas can’t afford to sit on his decision that could potentially cost him the support of the Covens and Bastiallano. At the same time, it also forces the Covens to accept him as their King. Either we stand behind Nicholas and protect him from the Church and faithful zealots who will react to his decision. Or—we allow the Church to tights its grip on Lafeara’s politics and weaken what little control remains to the Covens.”

The Duchess sighed as she paced in a tight circle around the Earl. “Perhaps—Nicholas may do some good for the Coven’s if given a chance?”

Percy responded with a scornful scoff and shook his head. “The Coven’s have been down this path before with King Henri. Just because Nicholas takes Serilda as his second queen does not guarantee the protection of the Covens from the Church and its inquisitions.”

“But surely the situation is different,” Carina argued as she turned to face him. “Henri’s peace with the Coven’s last most of his reign.”

“It lasted as long as his love for Queen Catalina remained unblemished,” Percy responded coldly. “Once her loyalty to the marriage was called into question, years after her death, Henri broke his promise. He all but begged the Pope to help him rid Lafeara of its traitorous witches.”

The Duchess stared at the Earl in silence as Percy exhaled and raised his winter-gray eyes to hers. “You know.”

A faint smile of amusement tugged at the Earl’s lips as he continued to hold her gaze. “I know a lot of this, your Grace. Catalina’s betrayal. Tristan’s true parentage. A bastard was all it took for a mortal king to lose his mind.”

“But then—why did the Coven’s send Serilda to Henri as a mistress?”

Percy clenched his jaw tightly and then replied. “That was a trap set by my mother to weaken Serilda’s position as heir to the Twilight Coven.”

Carina stared back at him in silence as guilt coiled around her throat.

“Serilda told me—of your involvement in her past attempt to assassinate the Countess.”

The Duchess looked up at the Earl in surprise but offered no response.

“My mother was driven by jealousy, the loss of my stillborn sibling, and other external influences she could not control,” Percy continued solemnly as he stepped towards her. “Serilda has come to terms with this, so you need not feel any guilt for your actions. We are all clay toys in the hands of the gods, easily wound up by treacherous emotions that blind us to the truth.”

Carina stared back into the storm of emotions behind his passionate gaze and took a step back. “What would you say if I told you that Tristan was still alive? Would the Covens be willing to accept him as a replacement for Nicholas?”

“No.”

The Duchess blinked. The Earl’s immediate answer and lack of reaction to her question immediately raised her suspicions.

Percy appeared to sense her doubt and smiled as he stepped towards her again. “I told you, I know a lot of things.”

“Then—why no?” Carina responded as she chose to stand her ground.

“Because Tristan belongs to Kritanta and Lafeara belongs to the Air Covens. If we accepted him, Kritanta would do everything within her power to destroy every bit of history, tradition, and culture that connects us to Veles. We would be ensuring our own destruction. What sort of life could we hope for under the tyrannical reign of an Emperor who separates his citizens into classes based solely on their power?”

The Duchess nodded in silent understanding as she pressed her lips together.

“Fortunately,” Percy continued with a faint smile. “We will never have to make that choice. Not when a far better option stands before us.”

Carina narrowed her eyes. ‘Is he referring to himself or—me?’

The Earl raised his gaze to the sky that had warmed beneath golden strips of sunlight beneath the parting clouds and sighed. “I did not choose rebellion simply to fulfill my need for revenge or to pursue some form of blind ambition. Witch and mortal alike will perish regardless of which path we choose.” His winter-gray eyes returned to Carina’s face, and she sensed both his determination and confidence.

“Like the Covens of the Desert, my people wish to see Lafeara returned to its former glory as the witch kingdom it once was under the Isbrand Kings,” Percy continued adamantly. “A place where we can embrace our power, religion, and heritage freely, instead of hiding them beneath the shadows of Anthraticus. If a sacrifice is required to achieve that future, then it is one we will happily make.”

The Duchess tensed as the Earl stepped closer. He reached out slowly to take her right hand then bent to kiss its back.

“But I will not sacrifice even one witch to safeguard the reign of another fickle, mortal king.”

***

Carina remained in the courtyard for a few moments after the Earl’s departure. The Duchess bowed her head against her fingertips and focused on her connection to Isaac, who flew above the cathedral in the form of a silver falcon.

‘Any movement from the Pope?’

‘No sign of the Pope or Lady Hana so far. Plenty of nobles are making their way to the cathedral for the coronation. Lots of witch hunters on the balcony, windows, and even the roof. And there are likely more inside as well.’

‘The Pope is being cautious.’ The Duchess frowned as her connection wavered beneath the distinct sound of armored footsteps approaching. ‘I will be there shortly. Percy will send a bird as a messenger. Keep an eye out for something small with traces of magic. That bird will lead you to Hana.’

‘Should I try to break her free if I find her?’

‘No. Not yet.’ Carina sighed as she opened her eyes, the connection already fading. ‘Just tell me if she’s safe.’

The gray and black uniform of Hargreve Knights preceded the arrival of Duke Stryker Hargreve through Peony Palace gates. The Duke’s steel-blue eyes focused sharply upon the Duchess as he waved his men aside and entered the palace grounds alone.

Carina glanced over to where Captain Silas and his knights stood on the other side of the gate and shook her head silently to the captain’s worried gaze.

“Good morning, Lady Kirsi,” Stryker greeted neutrally as he stopped just a few feet before her and offered a polite head-bow.

“Your Grace,” Carina murmured with a shallow curtsey to match his bow. “You are here to escort his Majesty to his coronation?”

“That honor and responsibility both fall to me,” Stryker replied stiffly. “My scouts tell me that a large retinue of your forces has camped but a few hours from the Capital. This has caused some concern among the nobles, but I’m sure your Grace will set my mind at ease.”

“It is but an added measure of security, your Grace,” Carina responded with a bright, innocent smile. “And a necessary one, given that the last envoy of knights sent with Lady Hana to the palace were set upon by a pack of rabid dogs.”

Judging by Duke’s unphased reaction, Carina could only conclude that he was already aware of the Pope’s actions and Colonel Isaac’s death.

“Lafeara has become rife with wild dogs, cunning witches, and ambitious traitors,” Stryker replied with measured emphasis.

“Is that why your Grace has surrounded both the palace and fortress with your knights?” Carina responded with a bemused smile. “One would almost think you were preparing for an attack.”

“In these uncertain times, one can never be sure who is friend or foe.”

The Duchess ignored his pointed stare as she opened her fan and stepped toward him. “Countess Constance once taught me that a man’s loyalty can be measured by the height of his ambition and the depths of his greed. Tell me, your Grace, how high does your ambition for House Hargreve go?”

The Duke’s steel-blue eyes narrowed as he stared down at her. Like his two bastard sons, Stryker was taller than most and just as difficult to read. “My wife does not care for you, Lady Kirsi.”

A faint chuckle slipped past Carina’s lips as she closed her fan against her chin. “You’re wife has never met me, your Grace.”

“But my son appears to hold you in high esteem,” Stryker continued and then bent his head towards her. “So do not make yourself my enemy.”

The Duchess tightened her grip on the fan that stiffened beneath a sheet of ice. She maintained her steady gaze and offered the Duke an amused smile. “And which son would that be, Lord Commander?”

Stryker straightened and gestured towards his knights at the gate. The men filed inside the courtyard as their General offered Carina another polite bow. “I will see you at the coronation, Lady Commander.”

The Duchess stepped to the side as the Duke and his men marched towards Peony Palace and their future king. She frowned at the Duke’s oddly respectful behavior, then turned quickly towards the gate where Captain Silas opened her carriage with a look of relief.

***

Priscilla had no particular attraction for the color purple. Although it was the traditional color worn by Lafeara’s kings and queens, she found that it aged her. The lush satin gown she now wore had two pleated rows of dark purple ribbon down its front, separating the solid royal color from the rest of the dress embroidered with golden roses. The Royal Consort’s recently established boutique had specially designed the gown’s fashionable dome-shaped skirt.

The Noble’s Aspiration Boutique had been around under a different name for several years. However, the business had struggled with lackluster results due to the reputation and attraction most nobles had to the Holy Maiden Boutique that belonged to the ignominious Frost.

‘After the Duchess outed herself as both Frost and a Witch, I was surprised when the noble’s opinion of Frost’s business only took a minor hit. But suppose I offer the noblewomen a safe, more reputable place to do their shopping and present them with an alternative fashion to the witch’s tacky designs. If I’m successful, I can push that insufferable woman and her shop out of business.’

The Royal Consort smiled as she turned before the mirror, admiring her silhouette emphasized by her embellished hips and restricting corset.

“You look lovely, your Highness,” Meredith whispered with just enough envy to be believable.

“I will be lovelier still if you’d fetch the amethyst jewels Earl Coldwell sent over,” Priscilla replied with a wave towards the pile of ornamental boxes displayed on her dresser. The gifts of jewelry had been delivered at dawn from noble families who had seen the Royal Consort leave the prayer room beside the Crown Prince.

‘Now that they realize his Majesty won’t toss me aside, they’re scrambling to buy my forgiveness.’ Priscilla smiled as she rubbed just the lightest bit of rouge to her lips, ignoring their stiff coldness. ‘I can’t wait to see how they’ll react after witnessing my miraculous recovery.’ The Royal Consort wiped her fingers and remained still as her attendants slid the gold amethyst necklace around her neck, then attached two matching earrings to her delicate ears.

“There,” Priscilla murmured as her chartreuse-green eyes flashed in the mirror. “All I need is a crown—but that will come in time.” She smiled then turned to her two waiting attendants. “Any word yet on where Nicholas placed that commoner?”

“Lady Rosamund was taken to Lily palace to rest,” Meredith responded promptly. “Although, there was a bit of confusion when the Dowager was not there to greet her.”

“The Dowager wasn’t there?” Priscilla raised a brow but promptly dismissed all concern. Despite her lingering resentment, Octavia was still her godmother. She could easily chalk the Dowager’s mistake regarding the half-blood to sentiment and old age. “It doesn’t matter. The arrangement is only temporary.”

‘Nicholas doesn’t trust Eleanora to accept his pregnant mistress into her palace, but he can’t avoid the matter forever.’

“Perhaps the Dowager simply didn’t wish to startle Lady Rosamund,” Evelynn murmured as she brought over a purple-gold lace fan. “The Queen Regent can be intimidating for most people.”

“Better the Dowager’s cold disinterest than the wrath of that barbarian princess,” Meredith retorted with a cynical chuckle. “Eleanora must be out of her mind with jealousy after hearing the news.”

“Yes,” Priscilla muttered slowly. “It’s just a shame neither of you was there to witness it for me.”

A knock at the door preceded the arrival of Coldwell’s butler, who announced that Lieutenant Olund had returned accompanied by a guest.

‘So much for Olund winning back Nicholas’s trust.’ The Royal Consort smacked her fan against her lap with an irritated sigh. “Who is his guest?”

“A Viscount Norley, my lady.”

The fan stilled in Priscilla’s hands as she stiffened.

“Your Highness?” Evelynn pressed worriedly as the butler remained awkwardly standing in the doorway.

“Have the Lieutenant take Lord Norley to the library,” Priscilla replied after a moment’s pause. “I will be down to greet him shortly.”

“Who is Lord Norley?” Meredith asked as soon as the bedroom door closed.

“A trusted aid of Duke Hargreve,” Priscilla answered, then drew in a short breath and sighed. “Let’s finish up quickly. Lady Evelynn, I must ask you to stay behind to ensure everything is packed and prepared for my move to Rose Palace.”

“Understood, your Highness.”

***

Priscilla did her best to appear confident as she entered the library room. Lord Norley put down the book he had been browsing and stood up to greet her.

“Lady Priscilla, thank you for coming.”

“Of course, Lord Norley,” Priscilla replied, trying her best to ignore the intentional way he addressed her as a noble rather than a royal consort. “I assume you have a reason for being here so close to the coronation ceremony?”

“Indeed, my Lady,” Norley replied with a less than amicable smile. “Won’t you sit down?” He gestured to the chairs that faced away from the library shelves.

The Royal Consort’s brow twitched in irritation. ‘This may not be my home, but why is he treating me like I’m the guest?’

Norely lowered his hand when she made no move to sit and took a seat himself. “I’ve been sent by the Duke to inform you that you will not be attending his Majesty’s coronation.”

“How absurd,” Priscilla snapped immediately. “Why on earth would I not—”

“His Grace has prepared a carriage to take you to Lily Chapel instead.”

The Royal Consort blinked, completely caught off guard by this change in destination. “Why?”

“His Majesty has agreed to accept you as a Royal Consort, so his Grace is determined that you wed immediately after the King’s coronation.”

“But surely I could—”

“In order to become his Majety’s official wife, you must follow the traditional ceremony and all its prerequisite requirements.”

Priscilla’s growing irritation at Norley’s constant interruptions slowly withered as she absorbed his meaning. “I am being sent to the chapel to—be evaluated?”

“Yes.”

“But Eleanora did not have to suffer such—”

“Are you suggesting that the Crown Princess is the best example to follow for the decorum of a queen?” Norely shot back with a faint smirk.

Priscilla unclenched her fists and folded her hands before her waist before offering a timid, “No.”

“Is there any reason why you should wish to avoid this?” Norely pressed with an inquisitive gaze.

The Royal Consort pressed her lips together before responding, “Other than the fact that I already spent a night with his Majesty—none.”

The Viscount’s eyebrows rose sharply. He leaned forward and rose swiftly to his feet, advancing towards her with a quiet rage that made Priscilla flinch before Norley turned his attention to Lady Meredith and growled, “Leave us!”

Priscilla felt her opinion of Lady Meredith sour as the attendant fled without so much as a backward glance to ensure her mistress was alright.

“You—slept—with the prince?” Norley demanded in a low, dangerous tone. “Why?”

“It was—at my father’s request,” Priscilla replied, unable to mask the blush of shame that resurfaced with the memory.

“You fool!”

The look of disgust the Viscount offered Priscilla twisted her stomach, even as the Royal Consort raised her chin and proudly declared, “I am still intact, my Lord.”

Norley blinked. His brows furrowed before he leaned in towards her with a twisted smile. “Are you saying—that you found other means to pleasure his Majesty?”

Priscilla dropped her gaze as her cheeks burned hotter still and responded with a stiff, “Yes.”

“How interesting.” The Viscount took her chin gently and raised her gaze to his. “Perhaps there is hope for you yet.”

“What do you mean?” Priscilla snapped as she jerked free and stepped back.

“Do not mention this night of pleasure to anyone,” Norley replied, brushing off her question. “As far as the public is concerned, tonight will be your first night with the King as his official Lafearian bride.”

“T-tonight?”

“You will be wed to the King after the nuns perform the customary examination,” Norely explained as he returned to the chair where his cape and hat waited. “To ensure the validity of the examination, two nobles will have to be present. Duchess Verity has volunteered her services, as has Countess Coldwell.”

“I see,” Priscilla replied blankly.

“If you fail the examination, you will still marry the King,” Norley commented with a shrug. “However, your position will be reduced to that of a court lady, and you will have to wait until after your second menstruation to ensure no tainted pregnancy occurs.”

“Reduced to a court lady?”

“Yes,” Norley replied with a sinister smile. “I imagine that means you will be required to attend to Lady Rosamund personally until you regain your status as a Royal Consort.”

Priscilla sputtered out a muffled protest as the Viscount brushed past her and opened the door.

“Now then, we should get going. The King and the Duchess mustn’t be kept waiting.”