Crimson Throne

Chapter Eight

Avalon

My spoon clattered into the soup as Lilianna disappeared into the corridor of the dining hall. Cora's mouth hung ajar as she watched the girl's retreating figure before settling into a hard line. Nobody leaves before the royal family. If the king wants to drink whiskey into the early hours of the morning, then you sit, smile, and keep your mouth shut. Of course, Lilianna knew this, no matter how long since she'd been in the country's borders. A Savoy had three qualities; cunning, gorgeous, and most important, lethal. Being alone in the world only makes you deadlier, predatory almost. If Clarissa and I saw one another as more than rivals, then maybe we wouldn't be as volatile.

"A letter, Your Grace."

I thanked the servant, noticing the seal of my guard. Samson was meant to join me soon in Rosemarrow. If I remembered correctly, two of his cousins were members of the king's guard. I'd have to ask Jacques when he didn't seem ready to throw his plate at the wall; revealing to the court what was always simmering underneath the surface.

Popping open the seal, I scanned over the chicken scratch, noting the quickness of his hand.

No.

Dannamore had fallen to the Gaterlands. Clarissa used Leighton's army as a distraction, but...noticing the date, the letter had been written a week ago. Was Samson even alive?

Meeting Jacques's eyes, I stood, forcing the letter into his hand. People stared, whispered as their eyes turned between us, the king, the queen, and then back to the prince and I. Mountains divided out borders, they take months to cross, but open plains are the only thing dividing Dannamore and the mountains. My armies have been in the city and surrounding cities for nearly six months at my order because of father's illness. I had made the mistake of only looking after the wellbeing of Dannamore, Samson had warned me. I made the mistake.

"Everyone is dismissed. Now." Jacques's voice hardened only in the way a future king could as his expression came to mirror his mother's. Many obeyed. Many waited for a nod from the king of queen. Eventually, Cora gave her silent approval of her son's dismissal. For the second time tonight, people were dismissed before the royal family.

Arthur seemed intrigued by the letter now in the possession of his son, but he didn't move towards us. Had he already known? Of course, he was the king. A king with a network so interwoven into his country's people that he could know within the estimate of a second when I was taking my morning coffee, the moment my eyes opened, and maybe even what I dreamed about at night.

"You knew?" My words are accusing as I blindly move toward the king. A calloused hand taking my wrist, stopping me from what I've always desired; to see Arthur Marat's head on a spike. "You allow the Gaterlands to take my family land? My legacy? My people? Why, Your Majesty? How long have you known about this attack?"

Arthur takes a long, too long, sip of the amber liquid in front of him. The putrid smell of alcohol fills the room, but Arthur is the only one who had taken it at dinner. His medicine, his vice, not so unlike my father, but still entirely different. Father never killed innocents.

"Avalon, they're not your people. I don't see a ring on that pretty little finger of yours. You should have known the power vacuum that would happen when he died," he pauses, rubbing his thumb and index finger in thought, "Your aunt and uncle have been planning this assault for some time. What I'm surprised about is how your own spies didn't catch it, or that fellow who follows you around like a puppy. What's his name?"

Control yourself, he is only looking for a way to anger you. Shajurn's voice clears my head as I take in a breath, my chest steading. He watches through my eyes, waiting for any sign of my life being in danger. He'd tear down the castle if he had too.