By Darkness Hid (46 page)

Inko rowed until they came to the northern curtain wall. Then, instead of entering there, he turned left and paddled along the wall. Suddenly, bright, warm sunlight washed over them. Vrell shielded her eyes and twisted around to see the Evenwall mist fading away. The air was still muggy, but a warm breeze tightened the pores on her face. Judging from the position of the sun, she determined it to be near lunchtime.

Vrell studied Achan, seeing him for the first time in full daylight. When she’d first met his eyes in the Evenwall, she’d thought they were grey. But the mist, and later the dungeons, had made everything dim. Here in the morning sun, she saw that his eyes were the brightest blue she had ever seen. He was clearly of kinsman descent. Looking at him in such light, there was something almost familiar about him.

They turned at the gatehouse entrance and glided under the open portcullis. Dozens of empty boats lined the edges of the canal along the same stone ledge where Jax had first brought Vrell, only today they were coming from the opposite direction. Many had come to Council today. For locals, the vote for Prince Gidon was something not to miss. Goose pimples freckled Vrell’s arms, and she sucked in a deep breath of humid air. She did not want to be here.

Achan asked the question that Vrell already knew the answer to. “What is happening in the Council today that we need to be there?”

“Gidon will be presented,” Sir Gavin said. “He’ll announce his intended bride, thus clearing the way for him to take the throne. The Council will vote on whether or not he is ready to be king.”

Inko’s voice came from behind. “And whom will he be marrying?”

Vrell tensed and watched Sir Gavin with interest.

“I know not,” Sir Gavin said, stroking his beard. “Nor can I imagine any lady who would willingly have him, even for the title of queen. He’s such a pestilence.”

Inko chuckled. “Those are treasonous words you are speaking, my friend.”

Vrell smirked, then remembered Lady Jacqueline’s jealousy of Lady Mandzee. There were plenty of ladies willing to sink that low.

Inko steered their boat up to the ledge, and it knocked against the empty crafts on either side.

Sir Gavin tied the boat to a peg. “When he is king, Gidon may hang me. Until then…”

Vrell offered up her knowledge as they climbed out of the dory. “I believe, sir, that the prince has settled on Lady Mandzee Hamartano of Jaelport. I heard Lord Levy say as much to his daughter.”

Vrell prayed that it would go as Lord Levy had suggested. That the prince would have finally chosen another. That he and Lord Nathak would have given up on trying to control the north. Though if her recent conversations with her mother were any indication, that was not the case. She only hoped Gidon would have at least chosen another bride.

Inko turned to Sir Gavin. “An alliance with Jaelport would be making the south quite strong.”

“Better for us than his having control of the north,” Sir Gavin said.

The group climbed the narrow stairs and walked across the cobblestone courtyard to the entrance of the Mahanaim fortress. There were no throngs of people as Vrell expected. Probably because Vrell’s group was late. She had hoped to blend in with the crowd. What madness was Sir Gavin plotting? The entrance to the chambers was at the front of the room. If they walked in while the Council was already in session, they would draw the notice of everyone in the room.

Vrell dwelled on this fear as she followed Sir Gavin through the spacious but empty foyer. The golden doors to the Council auditorium were propped open. Sir Gavin led them single file along the entry corridor, past his own limestone bust and broken shield, to the inner doors. Vrell tensed, her pulse pounding in her temples. Sir Gavin pushed the doors open with a bang and strode inside, his boots clicking over the white and black speckled marble floor.

Vrell cringed. So much for staying out of sight.

They entered the packed auditorium. A raised platform stretched along the front wall. The seven Council members, a ruling lord from each duchy in Er’Rets, sat at a high table in ornate chairs. They each wore long black robes. Lord Levy sat in the center of the high table and wore a tall drum-like hat to signify his position as chairman over the proceeding.

Grandstands rose three stories high in a half circle around the high table. In the center front of the grandstands, Prince Gidon sat on a throne, facing the high table. A small wooden platform enclosed with half walls sat off to the right of the high table. Here, men and women were called to testify in a trial. New Kingsguardsmen lined the wall behind the witness platform. Three more stood just inside the entrance, only feet from where Vrell stood. Vrell scanned the guards for Jax or Khai but did not see either.

Hundreds of spectators filled the stands. Nobles and wealthy merchants occupied the lower seats. Peasants and slaves sat near the stone ceiling. Several nobles in front directed their attention to Sir Gavin as he barreled into the chambers. She caught sight of Bran and Sir Rigil sitting in the fifth row from the floor. Her heart fluttered. She only needed to get a moment to speak with them in private.

Vrell studied the faces of the Council leaders. She saw Prince Oren Hadar, Sir Dovev Falkson, Duke of Berland, Sir Yagil Hamartano, Duke of— Wait. Her mother was absent, yet seven seats were filled. Who had taken Mother’s seat? She had expected to see Anillo, the advisor Mother had sent with her proxy, but that was not him in her spot.

The Council session had already begun. The crowd was unnaturally silent. Lord Levy, who was chairman of the Council of Seven, was moderating in an appropriately bored voice.

“We accept the report from the steward from Hamonah.” Lord Levy looked up from his notes and turned to the door where Sir Gavin, Vrell, Achan, Inko, and Sir Caleb had entered. Lord Levy frowned. “What’s this? Sir Gavin?”

Sir Gavin paced into the center of the room and shouted, “I’ve come to make a claim before Arman and this Council.”

A murmur rose from the stands. Vrell heard Sir Gavin’s name. Some pointed at him.

Just then, Vrell spotted the impostor on the Council. Lord Nathak squirmed in Mother’s seat at the end of the platform, his eye flickering over Sir Gavin’s group. Vrell scowled. Who had given the seat to Lord Nathak? Certainly not Mother. And no one else had authority to do so. Where was Anillo?

“I’m sorry, Sir Gavin,” Lord Levy said, “but the time for new business is over. You will have to wait until next month.”

“The business I bring cannot wait. It must be dealt with today.” Sir Gavin strode to the center of the room and stood facing Lord Levy. “I’ve come before this Council to shed light on the truth.” Sir Gavin pointed to Lord Nathak. “This man, Sir Luas Nathak, has deceived us all.”

A hush fell over the crowd. Vrell’s arms prickled. What was this? Did Sir Gavin have some way of incriminating Lord Nathak? Perhaps he knew of how he had been pressuring Mother.

Lord Levy leaned forward, scowling. “See here, Sir Gavin. You cannot storm into my Council room and make such a claim. Explain yourself.”

Sir Gavin turned to face the audience. “All these years Lord Nathak has foisted a deception upon us all. We know the story. Good Lord Nathak discovers young Gidon Hadar in a field near Allowntown at age three. The boy’s parents tragically murdered. Good Lord Nathak takes him in to raise as his own and to prepare him to take the throne. But that man”—Sir Gavin pointed to Prince Gidon, who sat on a throne-like chair, looking slightly bored—“is not Gidon Hadar.”

The crowd burst into rattling chatter. Vrell stared at Prince Gidon. Could it be? Was the pig not really the prince after all? Maybe this would end well. If the man was not a prince, he could not force her to marry him, even if she should be discovered.

Lord Levy banged his gavel again and again. “Silence. I will have order in my Council chambers.”

But before the voices quieted, Lord Nathak stood so quickly, his chair fell behind him. “I contest!” He glared at Sir Gavin. “How dare you interrupt this Council with such an accusation. Do you have proof?”

“My proof lies in the truth,” Sir Gavin said dramatically. “Chairman Levy, I beg you to call Lord Nathak to testify—before the bloodvoice mediators.”

A collective gasp filled the auditorium, and the crowd began to talk again.

Lord Nathak slammed his palms on the table. “This is an outrage!”

Lord Levy banged his gavel. “Silence! Sit down, Lord Nathak. Silence in this chamber!” When the chatter stopped, Lord Levy looked down on the Great Whitewolf. “Sir Gavin, make your claim. What is it you seek to prove?”

Sir Gavin approached the end of the table where Lord Nathak stood. The knight lifted a steady arm and pointed at the Lord of Sitna Manor. “I charge that Sir Luas Nathak did indeed find the child Gidon Hadar, the true heir to the throne. Yet before returning him to this council, he substituted his own son in his place.”

Vrell jerked her gaze to Sir Gavin, mouth gaping. Could this be true?

The crowd erupted in reaction, gasping, crying out, and shouting all manner of comments.

Prince Gidon had straightened, sitting tall and stiff on his throne. His brow crinkled, he stared at Sir Gavin as if willing the man to burst into flame.

“Preposterous!” Lord Nathak yelled, his voice shrill.

“Calm yourself, Nathak,” Levy said. He turned to Sir Gavin. “Then what, pray tell, did Lord Nathak do with the real Prince Gidon?”

“He branded him a stray and forced him to work in the kitchens of Sitna Manor.” Sir Gavin turned and pointed at Achan. “Here he is.”

23

Had Sir Gavin lost his mind?

Achan dug a finger inside the neck of his blue shirt and tugged. It was too tight. He couldn’t breathe. Every eye in the huge room was on him. He wanted to melt into the floor. Was the knight hoping to convince these people he was royalty? Absurd.

The crowd had gone wild, so loud that Achan could not hear any one conversation with clarity.

Lord Levy banged the gavel so hard it offset his round, bucket-like black hat. “Silence! I will have silence in this chamber!” The noise quelled to whispers. He turned his pointed, white beard to the knight. “Sir Gavin. I will not have this Council in an uproar. If you have no evidence for this wild claim, I shall have the guards escort you and your party out. Really, the idea of a stray being royal!”

“I do have evidence.”

Achan’s eyes went wide. What new strategy was this? Surely this was some game Sir Gavin was playing. Achan couldn’t be the—what would this make him?—the true prince of Er’Rets? Impossible. No, it had to be a ploy. Perhaps Sir Gavin was acting to disrupt Prince Gidon’s accession. But why? Could this be a part of the resistance Sir Rigil and Bran were a part of? Men loyal to Prince Oren?

“Then I shall hear this evidence first,” Lord Levy said. He stood. “Sir Gavin, join me in my chamber.”

Sir Gavin followed the chairman into a room on the far wall. Lord Nathak scurried there as well.

Lord Levy turned to face him before they entered the room. “No, Lord Nathak. You will wait at your seat while I decide if this claim is of merit.”

“I would like to hear the details of this outrageous claim myself,” Lord Nathak said.

“If it is warranted, you will,” Lord Levy said. “Now take your seat. Or do you need Kingsguard assistance to find it?”

Lord Nathak stormed back to the high table. He righted his chair and fell into it.

Lord Levy and Sir Gavin entered the room on the far wall. A guard shut the door, and the audience burst into talk.

Achan stood in the center of the room with Inko, Sir Caleb, and Sparrow. The Council members at the high table stared, some puzzled, some scowling. Achan purposely avoided eye contact with Lord Nathak but caught Prince Oren’s gaze. The man smiled and winked. Achan couldn’t look at him after that.

Prince Gidon sat on his throne looking as if he were being burned on the inside. Curious, Achan opened his mind to try to hear his thoughts. Instead, dozens flooded his mind at once.

A stray, our king? Never!

I knew the son of Axel and Dara would never be so cruel.

For Lightness sake! Who would have thought?

Gods help us all! We’ll have a stray as king!

But how could we not have known? How could we have missed such treason?

How could they have? It must be a mistake. Achan closed his eyes and concentrated on the allown tree, Gren, and the SiderosRiver.

A peaceful silence settled over him.

Sometime later, someone grabbed his elbow. He turned to find Sparrow looking up at him with wide, green eyes.

“Sir Caleb and Inko have sat down,” Sparrow said. “Are you well?”

His lips parted, but no words came out. He allowed Sparrow to guide him to a bench on the far right wall and settled between Sir Caleb and Sparrow. Surely this was some trick of Sir Gavin’s. It couldn’t be true. Achan wasn’t a prince. He had no parents.

Sparrow’s scratchy voice filled his head.
Neither does the prince have parents, Achan.

“That doesn’t mean Prince Gidon is not who he claims to be,” Achan said. “Or that I am who Sir Gavin claims I am.”

Sir Caleb leaned close. “Use your head, boy. Gidon had whiskers at twelve. He must be nearly twenty. He cannot bloodvoice, as both King Axel and Queen Dara could. Nay. He’s Lord Nathak’s puppet. Besides, Gavin would know Axel’s child at a glance. He and the child had a bond.”

Achan stiffened. He remembered the day he’d first seen Sir Gavin watching him from the armory. Was this why Sir Gavin had made him a squire? No. It had to be a mistake. “Just because Gidon cannot bloodvoice doesn’t mean he’s not the prince,” Achan said. “Not all royals are born with it, right?”

“But Gidon Hadar was,” Sir Caleb said. “His bloodvoice was the strongest I’d ever felt in an infant.”