“You. Explain,” Fin demanded with narrowed eyes.
Kraken rolled around in the grime of the cell a few more times for good measure before finally meeting his gaze.
“I already explained that there wasn’t enough time to include you in my plan with the fire,” Kraken chirped impatiently.
“No. About there being other traitors in Austice.”
“Well, those enemy men didn’t just appear. Boats brought them. People knew where to hide them. You need to find the ring cat. That place with all the strong-smelling women … some of the men escaped there.”
“You mean Madam Mathilda’s establishment?”
“I don’t bother with human names. Your mate has been searching for all of these things on her own. She is a tiresome one to keep an eye on, let me tell you …”
“Is she safe?” Fin demanded, alarmed.
“As safe as she can be. My new position of authority under Fat Tony has afforded me some perks … I must compliment your choice of mate if I am purfectly honest. She is as quiet and clever as some talented cats I know. Doesn’t lose her whiskers under pressure.”
Fin rubbed the back of his neck while frowning. Thanks to Kraken he knew what Annika was up to, but it was dangerous … She was trying to find out who was associated with helping the invaders all on her own.
He felt more than a little angry that she couldn’t confide the risky work she was undertaking, but also recognized the cost of treason … particularly when the prime example of that little betrayal was bemoaning his fortune mere feet away.
“Wait, who is Fat Tony?”
“The leader of one of the cat gangs of Austice. Don’t worry, he is a reasonable cat compared to some.”
“Why are you in a gang, though?”
“To ensure your objectives are met.”
“What objectives?”
The feline let out a small breath that could’ve been interpreted as a sigh.
“A safe and happy home, witch. When we bonded, I knew this about you instantly.”
Fin blanched.
He never would’ve thought such an abstract notion could be understood by a cat.
Then again, the familiar wasn’t an ordinary cat …
“What is it you want, Kraken?”
The familiar blinked up at him, then stood and sauntered over to Fin, his tail swishing with every step.
“I want to sleep beside you in a warm soft bed and be fed delicious food without any worry. I want you to be happy, because you are annoyingly difficult to please. What I have discovered in my short time with you is that to help you, I must be the best I can be.”
Fin blinked in awe.
He had always known familiars were especially attuned to their owners, but to hear one’s love and wish for one’s well-being (albeit expressed quite dryly) was stunning.
“Well … thank you.”
“Oyy! Ashowan! As a witch, are you able to make any wench you bed more beautiful? I hear some witches can do that!” one of the knights sharing a cell with Lord Gauva called out suddenly.
Fin sighed; he had blocked all sound from leaving his cell while speaking with Kraken, but he immediately regretted not preventing sound from coming in. Lifting the barrier all together, he replied, “No, I can’t. Good night.”
“So … the baron said you could fold clothes, and we all saw, or rather felt the shield thing … but … why aren’t witches, you know … ruling everything?”
Fin closed his eyes and let out a small breath. He knew it wasn’t a bad question, but it had been a long day, and he didn’t particularly feel like talking with the men who had tried to hurt his mother.
“We aren’t here to rule, we are here to maintain balance between humans and nature. To ensure you do not forget what you are a part of.”
“Ah … but … how does you being a— Sorry, what was it?” The knight addressed someone else in the cell. It was too dark to tell who given the late hour.
“A house witch,” came the bitter reply from Lord Gauva.
“Yeah. How does you being a ‘house witch’ bring us closer to nature?”
Fin opened his mouth to give a churlish retort, then realized that once again the man was asking a good question.
“Well, what is important in life? Respecting what the earth gives us, and the power it holds, but also … what that balance brings us. My powers show how to harmonize all things. Food from the earth, fire for the hearth, breath of air, and nourishing life-sustaining water. A good home harnesses all of these.”
“Why the shield then?!” Lord Gauva barked.
“A home is also supposed to be safe,” Fin growled in response.
The dungeon fell quiet as the men all heeded his words. The redhead leaned against the damp stone wall and closed his eyes, knowing that there wasn’t any chance he would be able to sleep peacefully.
“Are you going to help us win against Troivack?” The somber voice of Baron Gauva resonated against the stones.
“No.”
Fin cracked his eyes open slowly.
“But I’m going to cook one hell of a dinner for everyone when we do.”
The men once again fell silent, and at last, it seemed it was for good. Fin closed his eyes and felt Kraken clamber up into his lap. The silky top of his head pressed into his limp hand expectantly.
With a small yawn, the witch began scratching gently under the familiar’s chin and felt the satisfying purr rumble in Kraken’s belly. At least one of them didn’t mind being stuck in a cell for the night …
Norman stared at the wilted lettuce on his plate dejectedly, then lifted his gaze to his goblet of wine and opted to take another hearty gulp of that instead.
“Kevin, remind me why you were so happy about Finlay Ashowan being locked up again?” Norman asked his assistant while pushing what he guessed was meant to be salad farther away from himself.
Kevin Howard regarded his own plate that had the green … ish … vegetables, and then looked over to the white … brown pile of mush that could have been potatoes? Or turnips …
“I … I still stand by my earlier sentiment. A night where we know where he is and he isn’t causing trouble is worth it!” Despite the vehemence in the man’s voice, there was an air of unease about him.
“Kevin, I won’t be having anyone speak ill of the Ashowans today. I owe him and his mother everything. I think I should look into having him knighted at the very least,” Norman warned his assistant sternly before taking another goblet of wine and looking at the pile of paperwork that had grown significantly over the days he had been absent from meetings and daily tasks.
“I know, Your Majesty. I don’t mean to … disparage the man … not entirely,” Mr. Howard added on belatedly when Norman shot him a wry expression over the rim of his goblet. “It’s just whenever he goes to do anything it becomes a headache.”
Norman sighed and shook his head.
He was exhausted and ready to crawl into bed beside his wife—even though there was a pillow barrier currently built down half of their bed so as to prevent Ainsley from accidentally moving excessively in her sleep and disturbing her stitches.
However, the duty of a king never stopped. Not really …
“So we have received word that Duke Cowan is sending what percentage of his knights?”
“Thirty-five percent, sire. I’ve already submitted his inventory and stock report to Lord Fuks to collaborate with the other houses that have submitted their contributions to the war. It’s been difficult to organize, between arresting the Troivackians we’ve already found and utilizing some of the wartime supplies and transportation in order to imprison them. The main contributors are Baron Taylor, Baron Haversher, Marquis Sibell, and surprisingly, Duke Rhodes.”
Norman’s upper lip curled. “Duke Rhodes is going to use this to drag matters out and try and ask for favors later.”
“Without a doubt,” Mr. Howard agreed.
With a sigh, Norman rubbed his forehead and slumped forward in his seat.
“By your estimation, how long do you think we can fund the war without raising taxes?”
“Tough to say … the Troivackians are attacking because their food reserves and farmlands are dwindling dangerously. If we manage to protect our supplies well, we might be able to outlast them, but who knows if they’ve been smuggling food back through the soldiers that we’ve discovered. None of them have been forthcoming with details, or they only know a very small amount of the grander plan. Perhaps a year, if we manage things well.”
Norman nodded somberly; he was about to start asking for more exact numbers when a knock rang out in his otherwise quiet study.
“Your Majesty, Lord Ryu of Zinfera is here with news from the Zinferan emperor!” the guard outside the door called in.
Smiling wearily at Mr. Howard, who understood the king’s sentiment without a word, the king replied, “Send him in!”
Lord Jiho Ryu stepped into the office looking every bit as dignified as he did at all hours of the day.
Bowing to the Daxarian king, he straightened, his face unreadable.
“Your Majesty, congratulations on the birth of the princess. My emperor also sends his regards, and we both are relieved to hear of the queen’s survival.”
Norman acknowledged the formality with a single bob of his head and waited for the important piece of news that could determine their likelihood of survival in the pending war …
“The emperor is, or was, rather dissatisfied with learning that Lord Nam would not in fact be inheriting a dukedom,” Jiho began slowly.
“Was?” the king asked impatiently.
“I informed the emperor that you had learned of the multiple debts and loans Lord Nam had to his name, and how it would be almost completely eradicated by Lady Marigold’s dowry. I expressed that while you were apologetic that he should lose the title, you believe that pertaining to Lord Nam in particular the deal is a fair one.”
Neither the king nor Mr. Howard bothered trying to goad the man to speak faster; Norman could sense that the most important point was coming.
“I also mentioned that I would be given the title of baron here in Daxaria, and my lands here would be subject to taxes in both kingdoms for the next ten years. The emperor agreed that this was a fair compromise, and that our two kingdoms have formed an acceptable bond.”
Norman straightened in his chair, his finger tapping his armrest in silence for several long minutes.
Then, a smile slowly stretched across his face.
“I must confess, Jiho … I see why your emperor values you so. You’ve offered a wonderful compromise, and I just so happen to have a baron house that has had its family members recently stripped of any right to its lands and assets. How do you like the title Baron Gauva?”
Lord Ryu smiled politely and bowed. “It would be my honor, Your Majesty. I understand you may wish to withhold bestowing the title to me publicly until after the emperor’s troops arrive.”
“You are wise indeed. I will have the official transfer of title and ownership drawn up and sent to the emperor as evidence of the deal before the end of the week.”
Mr. Howard’s face paled, but he scribbled down the note dutifully, though he eyed the large stack of papers before him with his eyes ever so slightly glazed.
“Thank you again for your skillful handling of the situation, and a good night to you, Lord Ryu.”
The Zinferan bowed and left the king and his assistant, his footfalls silent as he strode out the door.
Norman stared after him with a smile still on his face.
“Your Majesty, I was unaware you had offered him a barony.” The stress in Mr. Howard’s was clear enough that Norman moved his hazel eyes to lock eyes with the man.
“That’s because I didn’t. All Lord Ryu and I agreed upon was that I was willing to give the happy couple an annual stipend for the next ten years, and to bring to the emperor’s attention that I knew of Lord Nam’s … questionable decisions.”
“So you’re saying … Lord Ryu interjected himself into the deal to benefit?” Mr. Howard asked indignantly while turning to stare at the closed door as though he meant to summon the Zinferan lord back.
“Yes, though this benefits everyone as well as gets Lady Marigold and Lord Nam out of my hair. Furthermore, he has firmed up loyalty with both the emperor and myself without entangling Lady Jenoure. This also saves me having to find someone for Baron Gauva’s title and wealth who is loyal and can handle the responsibility. It’s a solution that appeases multiple people and we have a baron who will not abuse his power as he is attending to matters in the Zinferan court. He most likely will acquiesce to leaving his knights at my disposal as well. Yes, Lord Ryu is … impressive. Without a doubt.”
“Wouldn’t it have been just as easy to have him marry Lady Jenoure?” Mr. Howard grumbled as he snatched another document to begin reviewing.
“Well … perhaps. However, the Zinferan emperor benefits from this deal more financially, and … I benefit in the most important way.”
Mr. Howard’s blue eyes snapped up with a frown, his confusion clear.
“My wife doesn’t lose her best friend and confidante.” Norman leaned back in his chair, his fingers laced over his belly.
While Mr. Howard was caught between openly rolling his eyes at his king’s obvious adoration of his wife and maintaining his respectful air, Norman didn’t pay him any heed.
In truth, the second-biggest asset to the new arrangement was that Lady Jenoure could continue being the source of underground information and carrying out secretive missions without risking a foreign husband learning of Norman’s moves. Or worse yet, controlling Annika’s activities unnecessarily and complicating matters.
No. Lady Jenoure was by far a greater vassal single, and free to be exactly as she was.
Thankfully, she didn’t seem all that interested in marrying again anyway …