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“Look here. Everyone does agree this would all be easier with Keelweard back on our side, yes?” Lawrence pointed to the map. For emphasis, he tapped it with the slim cane in his hand.
No one spoke. He assumed this was because of the undeniable logic of his argument. Then he saw the Duke of Pinshire exchange a glance with Flora, and Flora exchange a glance with her son Pedr, and Pedr with his father, Duke Hugh, and so on.
“Perhaps,” said Duke Roger of Pinshire, “we should adjourn and take some refreshment while we discuss this issue.”
“Refreshment?” said Lawrence. “It’s barely....”
The traitorous chimes of the cathedral tolled ten o’clock. Ten? Already ten? Had they really been at this now for two hours?
Flora passed the word, and servants came rushing in, bearing trays of cold meats and cheeses, as well as cups of coffee and malt beer. Lawrence took a mug of the latter and sidled up to the Earl of Montgomery, who was eyeing the jellied ham with suspicion.
“I’ve been hoping for a word with you,” Lawrence began cheerfully. “You can see why we need Keelweard back on our side, yes?”
The earl put a slice of the ham on his plate and shrugged. “I don’t know, Lawrence. You’re right, of course, but on the other hand, it would be better if we’d never lost it in the first place.”
Next, Lawrence tried the Earl of Dunstan. The man was from far up the River Trahern, in Wislicshire, and unlike most of the other fellows here, he wasn’t a personal retainer of either Flora or the Duke of Pinshire.
“How do you feel about attacking Keelweard?” Lawrence asked.
“Might not be a bad idea,” said his lordship. “But one hears things, you know. If Herbert’s married his daughter to a Gramiren commander, how do we know he’s not four-square on their side now? I’d rather not get half my men killed saving someone who didn’t want to be saved.”
It seemed so clear and obvious to Lawrence. Everything that had gone wrong had started with the fall of Keelweard. And that meant if they were going to get anywhere, they had to start with recovering that city. Except that no one else seemed to see it that way.
The Duke of Pinshire and his young son, Stanley, had recommended taking the army to Trahernshire, where they could join with the Duke of Leornian in a grand coalition and start working their way methodically down the Trahern. That wasn’t entirely different from what Lawrence was suggesting—they would get to Keelweard sooner or later if they marched down the river. But it meant first they would be fighting a lot of battles and attacking a lot of middling little towns that meant nothing, rather than going straight to the heart of the problem, as Lawrence saw it.
As for Flora, she wanted to besiege Formacaster, the capital city itself. That had a certain brutal directness, but Lawrence didn’t like the notion of leaving Keelweard in the hands of the enemy. It seemed ungallant, somehow. If a man was holding your family captive, did you go steal his horse or burn his barn? No. You went to save your family.
He had a feeling that he could bring Flora around to his point of view, if only he could speak to her privately. But she had been avoiding him lately. And not just in council meetings. It had been two weeks since she had visited his chamber, and longer than that since she had permitted him to visit hers. She always pretended she had work to do and sent him on his way with a kiss and a vague promise of “later, darling.” He was beginning to sense that “later” was never going to come.
He tried to approach her at the drinks table, but she spotted him and ducked out the side door into the Noon Court with her elder son, Pedr. Annoyed, Lawrence followed her. She wasn’t getting away this time.
He found them deep in conversation by one of the fountains. Pedr bending his big frame down to hear his mother; Flora with her hands folded behind her, rising up on her toes when she emphasized a point.
Lawrence watched the curve of her back; he knew how that curve looked when she was naked in bed. He watched her red hair bouncing under her silver hair net. He knew how that hair smelled when she was just out of her bath. She hadn’t really finished with him, had she? That was too depressing a thought.
Both Pedr and Flora saw him coming, and they moved apart, like conspirators caught in the act. Pedr looked annoyed. Flora looked resigned.
“Yes, Lawrence?” she said, eyebrows raised. “Did you need something?”
“I was hoping for a word with you,” he said.
Flora bit her lip and nodded at her son. He rolled his eyes and walked away. As he passed, he gave Lawrence a very, very tiny bow. Really not much more than a dip of his head. Once upon a time, long ago, the boy had been Lawrence’s squire. Some people had no sense of honor or obligation.
Lawrence went over to Flora. He started to put an arm around her, but he saw her stiffen and shy back. He converted the gesture into an awkward wave of greeting.
“What can I do for you?” she asked coldly.
“I was hoping you might consider my plan for Keelweard.”
“Keelweard is the past,” she said. “It would have been better if we hadn’t lost it, but we did. We can’t go back and fix that now. Leave the past alone.”
“But think what it would mean if we had Duke Herbert with us again.”
“We’re not going to have Herbert until we’ve beaten Broderick. And we’re never going to do that until we’ve taken Formacaster.”
He let out a frustrated sigh. “I really think I should be able to count on your support, Flora. Considering....”
“Considering what?” She put her hands on her hips and glared at him, daring him to say it out loud.
“Considering what we’ve done.”
“Lawrence, please tell me you’re not going to become tiresome about this. As I say, let’s leave the past alone.”
That was the moment he knew the affair was over.
They were all against him now, and the question was how far he wanted to push things. He could pull rank and insist that the army go to Keelweard, but what would happen if they refused? He could always get Edwin to stand up and give a speech, but he hated to put the boy in that position. The king was supposed to be neutral on the council, listening to all sides before making a decision. If he made Edwin declare his support openly for the Keelweard plan, everyone would know where he’d gotten the idea. Making the boy look like a puppet wouldn’t help anyone in the long run.
And anyway, he didn’t know that the boy would do as he was told anymore. Edwin was 15 now, and boys that age were always eager to prove themselves. He might be looking for an excuse to make a break with his old uncle to demonstrate his independence. Especially if he had been talking to his sister lately.
Elwyn had always been a subversive influence, and she was getting worse, blast it all. He ought to have put his foot down earlier. He ought to have left her behind in Leornian, when they had gone into exile. It would have served her right to be taken captive by the Gramirens. It would have served the Gramirens right to have to put up with her. Maybe if she had ended up in Rawdon with his sister, Rohesia would have been able to do something with the girl. Earstien knew he’d never been able to.
The steward rang the bell to reconvene the council, though he might as well not have bothered. They just argued some more, and in the end, Lawrence decided not to force a vote that he knew he would lose badly, or issue orders he knew might not be obeyed. Instead, he kicked the problem down the road one more day.
“If we all think this over tonight,” he said, “then perhaps in the morning we will come to a consensus.”
He knew they wouldn’t though. Not unless they reached a consensus to do what Flora wanted. He could see her in the great hall, gliding around from group to group, chatting pleasantly in that effortless way she had. Lawrence couldn’t bring himself to compete, and he didn’t want to sit there and watch her beat him. So he left the castle and went for a drink.
The best inns and taverns in the city were along the High Street, close to the castle gate. Lawrence didn’t go to any of those, however. He wanted a drinking establishment that matched his mood, so he went to the Abney District, downriver of the castle—one of the poorer parts of the city. He found a grubby-looking place with a low clientele, and he settled into a filthy booth with a mug of bad cider. And another mug after that one. And then a third. By then he couldn’t taste how foul it was.
He kept thinking about Flora. Who was she sleeping with now? Surely she wasn’t going back to her husband. Was it the Duke of Pinshire? Was she making plans for the Duke of Leornian? Maybe one of the younger earls? Maybe she was seeing them all. Maybe she had been all along, and he’d been a complete fool to ever think she was his.
He was so intent on these grim thoughts that he didn’t even notice Vittoria in the tavern until she plopped herself down right across the table from him.
“Good evening, my lord,” she said, with a cheerful smile. “Whatever are you doing in a place like this?”
“I might ask you the same question,” he said.
She looked around. “Perhaps I was meeting a contact here. Perhaps I came here especially to find you.”
He was not in a mood to be pandered to, so he would have dismissed this as empty flattery, except that Vittoria was a secret agent for the Immani. For all he knew, she really had been looking for him.
“Why would you need to come here to find me? I’m staying up at the castle.”
“Yes, but here we can talk, just the two of us. I haven’t had a chance to...really get to know you.”
Under the table, he could feel her gently slide a foot up his calf, and then back down.
He tried to remind himself to be wary. The Immani had been a great help to the Sigors over the years, but they were fair weather friends at best. Lawrence knew the people who had sent Vittoria to Myrcia, and they did nothing out of the kindness of their hearts, whatever his sister might think of her friends in the Empire. If they had ordered this girl to approach him, then they wanted something.
“Um...what do you want to know?”
“All sorts of things.” Her foot slid back up, inching toward his lap. “And I imagine we could find all manner of ways to...help each other.”
On the word, “help,” the toe of her slim little riding boot slipped gently into his crotch. He was half-hard already, in spite of all the cider, and it only took a little flexing of her toes to get him painfully rigid.
She said the tavern had rooms upstairs that could be rented by the night or the hour. He didn’t ask how she knew that; he didn’t care.
They barely had the door closed before she was stripping off her clothes, slowly and seductively. He sat on the bed and watched as she displayed herself to him—all that young, firm body of hers. Nothing wrinkled, nothing sagging. Perfect and beautiful the way a woman ought to be. She came over, swaying her hips, and climbed up on his lap, rubbing herself against him. He was almost ready to explode before she even had him out of his trousers, but she played with him, teasing him and keeping him right at the edge, until he grabbed her hips and forced her into a steady rhythm that finally sent him over.
“Well, aren’t you an eager boy?” she said, giggling as she climbed off and curled up beside him. She dabbed at herself with a corner of the blanket. “It’s been a while, has it?”
“You have no idea,” he gasped, still trying to get his breath back.
“Things not going well with Duchess Flora?”
“I think it’s over,” he admitted.
“But she’s still a close ally in the council, I assume.”
“Don’t I wish.” He knew he should leave it there, but he liked having someone who listened, and he was feeling well-disposed to the girl after what she’d done for him. So he told her that Flora was opposed to attacking Keelweard in the spring. “She wants to go after Formacaster.”
“H’m...,” Vittoria drummed her fingers on his chest. “Listen, don’t take this the wrong way, but she’s right about attacking Formacaster.”
“Blast it all to the Void,” he grumbled, turning away from her. “Even you take her side.”
She kissed his shoulder blade softly. “There’s more coming. Soon. The Empire has other plans.”
“Oh? Like what?”
“I can’t tell you yet.” She reached around and started stroking him again. “But later, I promise I will explain everything.”
He pushed her hand away. “Can I just rest for a while? Please?”
That was it—the very last straw. He was going to put his foot down, and he was taking the army to liberate Keelweard, even if he had to do it without Flora’s help.