"He can betray himself right out of the Circle, Majesty, but it won't do us any good if you're dead."
"Then I'll just have to stay alive." His face and voice grew grim. "But, essentially, I'm going to Ohrid because Cemandia made this a personal battle when they set me up to remove Pjerin a'Stasiek from their way."
Liene knew it wouldn't do any good to remind him that kings seldom had the luxury of indulging in personal vengeance. Finding the traitor before the Cemandian army arrived was the only way to avoid a war they couldn't hope to win. Tempting the Cemandians with the King of Shkoder ensured they'd attack on Shkoder's schedule. Theron's presence in the keep was the best way to prod the traitor into betrayal.
The king traveling to Ohrid to take the oath of Gerek a'Pjerin was a perfectly believable way to set the whole plan in motion. She wished she'd never thought of it.
She could just see herself explaining to the new queen, as she hurriedly armed the country, how it was her father had died confronting a Cemandian invasion he knew was going to occur backed up by nothing more than a diplomatic entourage. I'm getting too old for this shit.
Then she realized they'd missed considering one vital component of the whole convoluted mess.
"What of the due, Majesty? The guard hasn't found him yet. Suppose they don't? Suppose Pjerin a'Stasiek arrives in Ohrid before you do? He could destroy the entire plan."
"As I understand it, he has to remain close to Annice to stay undetected by the kigh and she won't be moving very quickly in her condition. Even if Captain Luci and her troop prove themselves completely inept, I doubt that they'll arrive before Stasya. If Stasya makes herself visible, Annice will contact her, and Stasya will explain what's going on. Simple."
"Simple, Majesty? The due has an even greater personal stake in this than you do. If I read him correctly, he's as likely to single-handedly storm the keep as listen to anything either Annice or Stasya have to say."
Theron shook his head. "He won't jeopardize his chance to get his hands around the throat of the person who did this to him."
"And what of that person?" Well aware she was getting nowhere with her arguments, the captain felt she had to keep trying; for duty's sake if nothing else. "I need the due to find out who that is?"
"He may know by the time he arrives," Theron pointed out thoughtfully. "He is traveling with a bard, remember. Once Stasya explains, I think he's politically astute enough to work with me on this. And if he isn't, Annice is."
"Are you willing to risk your life on the possibility that Annice can control him?"
Was he? Theron thought about it. Thought about a fourteen-year-old who'd thrown away everything—family, privilege, responsibility—to follow her own desire. "I think," he said slowly, "he's met his match in Annice," And but for Annice, his hands curled into fists, this whole problem could have been solved ten years ago,
"… join with Prince Rajmund, Heir of Cemandia."
Annice's eyes opened wide in astonishment. "I will not."
It took Theron a moment to find his voice in the face of such bald denial and he fought to sound reasonable. "It won't happen immediately. You'll be betrothed first, the actually joining won't happen until you're both eighteen. This arrangement is for the good of Shkoder…"
"But what about me?" Annice broke in, reaching forward and grabbing his sleeve. "You know I want to be a bard. You know I do, Theron. I've just got to get permission from His Majesty."
"He won't give it and you're living in a dream world if you think he will, Annice. It's time to grow up." He pulled his arm free and squared his shoulders. "You have a responsibility to the royal family, a responsibility to the country."
She stared up at him in confusion. "I always thought you understood how much being a bard means to me and that if His Majesty wouldn't give permission, then, when he died, you would."
If she believed that, Theron knew it was because he'd given her reason. But that was before the Cemandian ambassador had come to him—to him because the king had no interest in anything but his own mortality and the lingering death that had been moving slowly closer to him for almost a full quarter. Theron, tired of waiting for power, had grasped the opportunity.
Annice paced the length of her solar and back, her shoes slapping a staccato beat against the tiles. "You have to speak to His Majesty for me, Theron. You're the Heir, he'll listen to you."
She read the answer off his face and took a slow step away from him, eyes locked on his. "Father didn't arrange this, did he? You did." Her expression changed from confusion to betrayal. "This isn't for the country! This is for you! I'm not stupid, Theron, and I had the same tutors you did! You don't even see me in this!"
Too close to the truth. The healers said the king was dying, but he'd been dying for too long, and if Theron wanted to strengthen his position, his youngest sister was the only card he had to play. "Nees, you've got to understand…"
"Oh, I understand." Her chin lifted defiantly, "Let me tell you something, Your Royal Highness, my life isn't a prize you can trade for the chance to be taken seriously!"
He forgot his reasoned arguments of how this joining, this family link, would give them a chance to bridge the gap growing between their two cultures, to build a permanent peace with Cemandia now that the much larger country had begun to press against their border. Forgot the arguments that might have made her see there was more to it than his own personal agenda. "Don't fight me on this, Annice, because you can't win." The words were forced out through teeth clenched so tightly his jaw ached. "Remember, in a very short time I will be your king."
Her face flushed as she stomped to the door and threw it open, waiting pointedly beside it for him to leave. "Well, you're not king yet!
"Majesty?"
Theron shook off the memories. It had been a long time since he'd played that scene through.
"Majesty? Are you all right?"
"I'm fine." He tugged on a vest button, pulling at the indigo brocade, and exhaled noisily. "I was just thinking of how different things would be if I'd handled Annice better. If I'd actually taken the time to explain why I wanted her to join with Prince Rajmund."
In all the years since he'd taken the throne, in all the years the captain had stood as one of the throne's primary advisers, this was the first time the king had ever been willing to discuss that bit of family history. She smothered a sigh. The time was long past to set the recall straight. "Your pardon, Majesty, but Annice and Prince Rajmund would never have been joined, regardless of the reasons, or the benefits, or any political maneuvering."
Both the royal brows rose. "Because you wanted her for Bardic Hall?"
"Because she was qualified for Bardic Hall, Majesty. Queen Jirina would never have allowed her son to be joined to someone who Sings the kigh. You know how the Cemandians feel about that. Their version of the Circle holds neither kigh nor bards.
"But Annice wasn't a bard…"
"She was born with the ability, Majesty. We only trained it."
Theron swore as his vest button twisted off in his fingers. "But the Cemandian ambassador came to me!" he protested.
"And was horrified when he discovered what he'd very nearly done. And was called home. And was, if I recall correctly, executed for daring to suggest the Heir to the royal house of Cemandia join with someone who Sings the kigh."
"The Cemandian ambassador is still after a similar joining."
"Neither of your daughters Sing the kigh, Majesty. You can be certain he's checked."
"It's been ten years," Theron growled. "Why didn't you tell me any of this before?"
Liene closed her eyes for an instant, weighed the potential for disaster, and decided. "Because you wouldn't listen, Majesty. Just the same way she wouldn't listen. It's taken the threat of war to force you to look beyond your personal—and, she added silently, highly inflated—sense of injustice."