“My father is no longer on the throne,” he said softly.
There was a moment’s hesitation and then Blairford smiled, but it was as cold as one of the sharks that stalked the boats in the sea. Empty and predatory, a mask. “That is most definitely true.”
Grantham gripped his hands into fists at his sides. “I would like to thank you for your service, Blairford. And you will be rewarded for it with a fine pension and a lovely home either here or elsewhere if you would prefer it. But your services are no longer required.”
Blairford’s mouth dropped open and the papers in his hands slipped to the floor. “You cannot mean that.”
“And yet I do,” Grantham said. “There has been a shift in power with the death of the previous king. I should have realized that we had differing views that cannot be aligned. That it is time to offer your position to someone new. Someone who better understands the direction in which I would like to steer this country.”
Now there was no concealing the hatred that Blairford felt for him. His face turned almost purple as he shook his head. “As if you could steer anything on your own. You are a weak, shiftless fool and without me you will watch this country fall. You will be remembered as the king who lost everything and I will laugh from the sidelines.”
Grantham flinched. After all, those were his greatest fears: that he would fail his country and his people. But he pushed it aside and motioned for the door. “We are finished.”
Blairford didn’t move, and as Grantham went to open the door and make his position clearer, the courtier reached out and grabbed his lapel, yanking him closer.
For what felt like forever they stood that way, faces close, and then Grantham pressed both hands to Blairford’s chest and shoved. As Blairford stumbled back, it was like he woke up and realized what he’d done. The color drained from his cheeks.
“You know exactly what the punishment for such a thing would have been in the past, so be happy that I am not my father.” Grantham stepped to the door and called out, “Guard?”
One of the finely liveried soldiers who served as sentry in the halls rushed forward. “Yes, Your Majesty?”
“Mr. Blairford is to be escorted from the palace grounds immediately. He is not welcome back and all the guards should know this, though I will express it personally to the captain shortly.” The guard’s eyes went wide but he did not interrupt, simply caught Blairford by the arm. “That will be all.”
Grantham didn’t look at Blairford again as he was all but dragged down the hallway, muttering his grievances loudly with every step. But when he entered his study, Grantham’s hands began to shake.
He reached for the bell and stopped. Normally it would be the man he’d just tossed onto his backside would be the one who came when he rang. So he ignored the bell and instead stepped back into the hallway. He found a maid who had been dusting in the closest parlor. She jumped when he said, “Excuse me?”
“Y-Your Majesty,” she gasped, raising her duster to her chest. “H-how can I help?”
“I need the queen,” he said. “And Dashiell Talbot with her. And my brother.” He frowned. “And the Earl of Bramwell and my sister, as well. Can you find someone to fetch them all and have them come to my study immediately?”
She looked confused. Soon she wouldn’t be. Soon the firing of the most senior member of palace staff would spread like wildfire through the estate and then the kingdom. He shuddered to think what would be said. The fact that this institution was in chaos had to be becoming clearer with each day. “I-I will, sir. Straight away.”
He returned to the study and sat down at his desk. He’d spent years under his father’s thumb and continuing to work with Blairford had been a part of that.
Now he was free. And it was terrifying and liberating all at once. It took a short while, ten minutes at most, though it felt like ten hours, but bit by bit his family joined him. And when any of them saw his face, they looked…sick. As if they already knew he was failing. As if they were waiting for more of it.
He steadied himself as Remi joined them last and shut the door. “You look like hell,” his brother said.
Grantham sighed. “I just dismissed Stephen Blairford from service to the Crown.”
For a moment the room was nothing but stunned silence as they all stared at him. Then Remi barked out a laugh and crossed the room to slap his upper arm. “Good work, Your Majesty.”
“Hateful man,” Sasha agreed, clutching Thomas’s arm all the harder. “He was a wretched thing and I am glad to see the palace rid of him.”
Grantham shifted his attention to his mother and Dashiell. Giabella looked stunned, truly stunned. Dashiell was, as he always was in these matters of state, unreadable.
“Mama,” Grantham said softly. “Your opinion on this matter is the most important to me. What do you think?”
“I think that Stephen Blairford overstepped in his duties for decades. I once counseled your father to make a similar decision with…” Her mouth twisted. “…unpleasant results.”
Dash did stand a little taller at that statement. Grantham smiled. The secretary had always been her champion. He appreciated that.
“I don’t know the man as well as the rest of you,” Sasha’s husband Thomas, the Earl of Bramwell said. “Except from the tales told by my wife. What did he do today that inspired this action?”
Grantham sighed and told the story, including the part where Blairford had dared to grab him. When it was over, he sighed. “Of course this is not going to strengthen my position, the position of the Crown, with everything else going on. And I have no idea what Blairford will do outside of these walls.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him to do anything to hurt you,” Sasha said.
Grantham looked at her, his sweet adoptive sister. “Father should have sacked him years ago for how he treated you. I’m sorry I waited so long to do the same.”
She shook her head and smiled. “You are not and never will be to blame for anything your father did or didn’t do to protect me, Grantham. And I adore you.”
He smiled at the show of support.
“What do you need?” Remi asked.
Grantham stiffened. Since his father’s death over a year ago…no, even before that…he had bristled at the idea that he needed help, even from his family. King Alistair had told him over and over that he was too weak to be king, and that voice always rang in his head when he felt the desire to ask for assistance.
Even today it echoed, and he hesitated even though this was exactly why he’d called them to his side.
Remi took his arm again, this time gently, and Grantham saw everything he adored in the brother who was so opposite from himself. He’d tried to push Remi away for so long, another symptom of the cruelty their father had poured down over them all for so many years.
But now he covered Remi’s hand with his own and nodded. “I…I do need help,” he said softly. He turned toward his mother and Dash again. “Dash, I trust you more than anyone else who works in this household.”
Dash blinked, his pride in that fact clear on his face. “Thank you. How can I help? I will do anything you need.”
“Will you find me a new head courtier?” Grantham asked. “I would ask you—” At that Giabella grew pale and her gaze darted to Dash. “—but I do not think my mother could spare you.” When he added the last, he saw the queen sag with relief.