“I’m certain,” Rune said, wishing an extra chair had been brought in for him, even if there wasn’t a place at the table. His mother and father sat at opposite ends, while the eight councilors were evenly spaced between them, four on either side. Everyone wore a frown. “I’m as certain as I can be, anyway.”
“They are Embrians, after all.” Duchess Charity Wintersoft looked up from her notes and shot Rune a narrow-eyed glance. “Just because we don’t understand how imprisoning their princess in a malsite benefits them doesn’t mean it wasn’t their plan all along. They are conniving.”
Noir Shadowsong leaned on her elbows. “I don’t see how the loss of the princess—”
“Are you an Embrian?” Charity snapped.
Noir scowled. “Obviously not.”
“Then of course you don’t see. How could we, good Caberwilline people, understand what depths Queen Katarina and King Markus would plumb in order to achieve some advantage? This alliance was their idea, after all.”
Noir stayed quiet. She was the industrial chancellor, one of three councilors who’d been elected to their positions by their constituency rather than appointed by the crown, but Charity looked down on anyone who wasn’t nobility, even if they were very good at their jobs.
“I agree with Noir.” Rupert Flight, an earl from the eastern coast, leveled his glare on Charity. “Notwithstanding, the threat to the Winterfast Accords remains.”
Several councilors nodded.
“But with regards to Embria, the questions we should be asking are about Devon Bearhaste and his part in all this.” Rupert turned his gaze on Rune. He was a plain-looking man, totally unmemorable even to people who thought they were good at faces, so he wore a pin—a winged lion—to make it easier for others to recognize him. “You say Lord Bearhaste had been taking a walk as well? And he was dead by the time you reached him?”
Rune nodded. “Not just dead—decomposing. Lieutenant Swifthand can tell you more. He saw the body up close.”
Rupert made a note of that. “Did anyone else take a walk?”
“Not that I recall.” Rune wanted to shift his weight, but forced himself to remain still. His father was watching.
The earl narrowed his eyes. “My friends have told me that in Solcast, Bearhaste penned several letters they could not intercept.”
“A traitor,” Opus muttered. “Rupert, get me everything about Devon Bearhaste, his family, and all associates. I want them thoroughly investigated.”
“It will be done, Your Majesty.” The earl—the information chancellor—made another note.
Swan Brightvale, the merchant chancellor—another commoner—spoke next. “That does leave the question of what to do with our visitors.” Her dark eyes were steady as she gazed around the chamber. “Will we honor the agreement to give the nobility rooms in the castle? Or should I have space made for them at the inns in Brink?”
Everyone looked toward the grand general, a man called Tide Emberwish. He was a hero of the three-kingdoms war, and no one—not even Charity—disputed his place on the Crown Council, lowborn though he was.
The old man pursed his mouth, thinking. Then: “They should stay in the castle. I want them where we can keep an eye on them. If you agree, Your Majesties.”
King Opus looked across the table to meet Queen Grace’s eyes. When she nodded, he said, “We’ll keep the nobility and their trains in the east wing, as planned. Allow them to move throughout the castle, but make sure they are always watched. I want to know who they visit, what they talk about, and even what they eat for breakfast.”
The grand general nodded. “And their soldiers?”
“The barracks we cleared out for them will suffice.”
“What of the alliance?” asked Dayle Larksong, a pale man with ashy skin and tired eyes. Rune had always liked him, even before he’d become the grand priest; he was one of the few people who still possessed books about certain forbidden subjects.
“Indeed,” said Rupert. “Without the princess, how can the alliance move forward? No doubt Queen Katarina and King Markus will blame us for Princess Johanne’s predicament.”
Predicament. Was that what they were going to call this?
“Yes,” murmured the grand general. “We must prepare for the worst. I would suggest a preemptive strike against Embria, before word of the princess’s disappearance reaches them.”
“Embria will know soon enough,” Rupert said. “They may know now.
Since no effort was made to hide the incident, everyone in the Embrian delegation has the same information we have heard. I can intercept letters and other correspondence, but that will be effective for only a short time. After all, the Embrian monarchs will expect their people to return in a month. And they will expect news of the wedding. Which is, apparently, off for the time being.”
Behind his back, Rune curled his hands into fists. Perhaps he should have sworn his guards to secrecy, but what of Captain Oliver? What of Lady Nadine? Neither were under his authority, and keeping Lady Nadine with Caberwilline soldiers would have been indecent. No, she (and the captain) had ridden to Brink with the Embrian delegation, where her own people could comfort her.
It was impossible to keep this a secret, and everyone here should know it. A princess was missing. It wouldn’t be long until all of Salvation knew.
“So the wedding is off,” mused Charity, “and we are to make a preemptive strike against Embria. I do not like this plan.”
“We don’t have other options,” said the grand general. “It is the princess’s own fault that she is trapped in the malsite, but Queen Katarina and King Markus will not see it that way. They will see negligence on the part of Caberwill as a whole.”
On the part of Rune, he meant, but he would not say that aloud.
“Why is attack our only option?” Rune stepped forward, keeping his fists behind his back. “I promised the Embrian delegation we would do everything in our power to rescue Princess Johanne from the malsite. Surely there is a way. Perhaps if we approached Markus and Katarina with a list of our efforts, they would join us in putting every resource to the task of ensuring the alliance will continue as we planned.”
“You speak as though they are a reasonable people,” said the grand general. “But there is nothing reasonable about them. It was before you were born, but I’m certain you have studied the Battle at Dead Water Hill, in which a ceasefire was to be discussed—but the Embrian military ambushed General Ring and killed every Caberwilline soldier escorting him. Or the massacre at Brightfell Mine only five years ago. They didn’t like the quality of iron they had purchased and sent a squad of men to kill our miners. Remember?”