Luminous

116 - The Second Fellowship (1/3)

The last hour of first sleep was almost over. So was the feast. Tipsy lords and ladies crowded out the double doors and toddled down the marble steps, skidding on the carpet trail. Some hollered for their snoozing coachmen to awaken. Some linked arms around each other's neck, singing praises for attributes of legendary mistresses of the night—before being swatted on the head by their righteously jealous wives.

Kellis threaded his way through the laughter and bustle. Coris had accompanied the Hilds back in their first carriage. He'd sent Zier and Arinel back in the second, then packed Sylvia in with the Clardarths, who'd left early to stuff one screaming and kicking Harold into his crib. He'd have to hire a coach for a copper or trudge.

He pulled his hood over his eyes as he strode toward the gates. Hadrian Red melted into the night. Carriage after carriage trundled past him, unnoticing. Then, he slipped into the circle of glow cast by the torches at the gates. A voice yelled, and the carriage screeched to a halt by his side.

"Kellis!" The voice cried again, a familiar voice. Kellis drew a deep breath and turned. Grimthel Graye and his curtains of white-gold hair hung from the open door of his carriage. Panting through his smile, he nodded to the empty seat across him.

"Come. Ride with me."

Kellis gritted his teeth as he climbed in. Once he'd settled, the carriage rolled down onto the glinting cobblestones. Reputable folk had long retired. 'Tis the hour of drunkards and women of the golden cloak.

"Where to?" asked Grimthel. A wooden hand mounted on a post sailed past his window, beckoning desperate travelers to the nearest inn. He knew from experience it wasn't one of Graye's regular lodgings. And it was less than a sliver-hour away.

"The Lion's Lodge," Kellis read it. Grimthel repeated it to his whip. The carriage lurched left at the crossroads, trotting down a better-lit alley with more respectable folk.

Herb-infused silence filled the wooden globe. Kellis kept his eyes on the road as Grimthel stirred his tea. At last, Baron Graye sighed.

"All is not lost, my friend," he said softly. "You need only break free of the comfortable present—"

"What is your solution?" Kellis cut through the bullcrap, his patience short for riddles at the moment. Grimthel blinked, disoriented, then recalled his smile.

"No more, no less than what the king demands." He lowered his tea to his lap, his deep blue eyes flashing in the streetlamp light, "Bring me The Axel, and Graye's vote is forever yours to cast."

He laid bare his hand, and from his sleeve out slid two pentagon plaques onto his palm, both engraved in silver with a peacock. Kellis stared at them.

Trading council votes was a dangerous resort. Once a vote was relinquished, it was no trifling matter reclaiming it. Some were returned as dowries, even.

The king promised the prince to whomever delivered him The Axel. Yet, Graye made no move to reclaim his daughters. Yet, he still coveted The Axel, so much so that he'd give up his vote, allowing his enemy to stay on the Council and prolong the Mining Ban.

It was apparent—he no longer cared. If Persephia's letter reached him, he would know for certain The Axel possessed true menace behind its veil of hearsay. That with The Axel in his grasp, votes were mere wooden chips. Whoever held The Axel wielded direct power over the three lands. Why would he then settle for Latakia's throne through his daughter? Why would he—

Kellis's fists trembled in the gloom as another chilling realization struck him.

Grimthel could also be weighing whether to kill Kyrel to keep The Axel's secret from the king. If Kellis accepted the vote and remain on the Council, she and Serella live. If he didn't, they die. And it would seem to all to be his doing.

Kyrel, you fool! Oh, sweet Sorrel, what should your Lord Uncle do?

Time. What else could he do but stall for time?

Kellis regretted choosing the Lion's Lodge as his stop. Somehow, he must hint that Kyrel didn't know the truth, without revealing the truth, and make it seem incidental. It may be the only way to save her and her children. He must show he was barely considering her, show Graye how much closer he was to the secret.

"You said you lost your daughters serving an unworthy liege. So, you confess you were behind the heist six years ago?"

Grimthel raised his eyebrows, then sighed with a smile as if chiding a child, shaking his head.

"You must understand, Kellis, how foolish it is to have a lake of iron before the Gap of Galwerth, yet insist on sourcing it from Everglen—"

"So, for the better half of five years, you poisoned my sons against me. Set your daughters to spy on them for the lesser half, in exchange for the prince's hand?" Kellis snapped, eyes flaring, rejoicing inside as Graye appeared to fall for the bait,

"Spare me your heroics, Grimthel. You only turned against Devind after your sister mysteriously vanished shortly into her service to Freda. And you've envied Alden for the throne since."

"And what better chance for you, old friend?" Grimthel smiled ever wider, unfazed, "To have a king whose vote lies in your palm? A king who shares in your secret, the way it always have been?"

He paused, then cocked his head as he stirred his tea.

"Or, you could wait for Amplevale's army to sack Hadrian's keep, while Alden tortures the truth out of poor Coris and Zier."

As Grimthel raised his cup to his lips, Kellis breathed an internal sigh of relief. He succeeded. Grimthel's eyes were back upon his boys, and he was no closer to the truth.

The carriage slowed to a stop. Grimthel leaned outside. The swinging sign bore the words Lion's Lodge.

"Pity. I had a longer negotiation in mind." He retreated, sighing down his teacup, then nodded with his ever-present smile."Still, there is no need to rush. The Council reconvenes next sundown. Until then, my offer stays."

Kellis pretended to fumble with his cloak until Graye's carriage vanished around the bend, before plodding back up the avenue to the Dragon's Crossing, dreading the reaction of his wife and children to his decision.