There was nothing to stop Derwyn from denouncing her to Michael, except he had no proof. It would have been his word against hers, and despite the fact that she and Michael were not close—they barely even spoke save for those times when formality demanded it—she was still his sister and a princess of Anuire. Derwyn’s position was too precarious for him to risk making such an accusation. He had nothing to gain from it and a great deal to lose. And even if Michael believed him—and there was a possibility he would—he would still not thank him for putting him in the difficult position of having to execute his sister or, at the very least, send her into exile. Her disgrace would be the emperor’s disgrace, as well. It would indelibly tarnish the honor and the reputation of the royal house.
However, there was a chance Derwyn might not have realized that. She barely even knew him, so she had no real way to estimate his character or intellect. It was possible that in an attempt to ingratiate himself with Michael, he might reveal her betrayal, thinking he was doing the emperor a great service. Or else he might do it to strike back at Michael for having killed his father. There had been no way to know for sure what he would do, but the more Laera thought about it, the more certain she felt that the situation, while it certainly posed potential danger for her, was not nearly as disastrous as it had seemed at first.
Derwyn would either denounce her or would not. If he did not, then all was well. But if he did, it would still be his word against hers, and the accusation would seem meanspirited and spiteful. And even if Michael did believe it, it would be to his disadvantage to act upon it. After due consideration, Laera had decided that while there was considerable risk in her position, the odds were still in her favor, so she would brazen it out. But she had not been prepared for what developed. Derwyn had surprised her.
In a ceremony on the parade ground of Anuire, where not only all the people of the city, but both armies had gathered, Michael had formally announced an end to the long civil war. The regions Arwyn had controlled would once more be taken back into the empire, and those who had taken up arms against him, so long as they swore allegiance to the empire, would not be penalized. The goblins of Thurazor, however, would suffer the wrath of Imperial Anuire at some point in the near future, which Michael did not specify. The armies had fought long enough, he said, and they deserved a respite from the trade of war.
This, of course, had brought him great acclaim as an enlightened and merciful ruler, but Michael’s next decree had been as surprising as it was controversial. He had elevated Derwyn to the rank of duke and confirmed his hereditary ascension to his father’s estate. This had drawn a reaction of absolute astonishment from the assembled multitude. Arwyn of Boeruine had rebelled against the emperor, and as such, he was a traitor. By all laws and traditions of the empire, his entire family should have shared his disgrace. An order decreeing Derwyn’s formal execution would not have been unexpected, since like his father, he had taken up arms against the empire. At the very least, everyone thought he would be exiled. For him to assume the title and lands of the Duke of Boeruine was shocking and unprecedented, but Michael had yet one more surprise in store.
“My lords and ladies, valiant comrades-in-arms, and people of Anuire,” he had said, his voice carrying across the parade ground. “I know that many of you are no doubt shocked and dismayed by my raising of Lord Derwyn to a dukedom when his father had plunged our nation into a long and bloody civil war. Many of you would doubtless call for his exile or even death.”
At this, a loud chorus of assent was raised. Michael waited for a moment, then raised his hands for silence.
“Truly, either punishment would be in keeping with our laws and our traditions,” he said. “However, there has already been too much dying. There are those among you, I am sure, who would want to see revenge exacted on Derwyn of Boeruine for the war that has long ravaged our country and taken so many lives. Yet I ask you to consider that the war was not of Derwyn’s making.
“It was Arwyn who had allowed his blind ambition to cloud his better judgment,” he continued. “It was Arwyn whose greed and lust for power led him into making an alliance with the goblin realm of Thurazor, and it was Arwyn who had used force of arms to induce Talinie, Taeghas, and Brosengae to join him in his rebellion. Arwyn has paid for his transgressions with his life. If I were likewise to punish Derwyn of Boeruine, would I not also need to punish Davan of Taeghas, Rurik of Talinie, and Lysander of Brosengae? And if, according to our past laws and traditions, these nobles were to forfeit their lives or be exiled for joining Arwyn in taking arms against us, then according to those same traditions, their families would likewise share in their disgrace.
“Where is the justice? Davan of Taeghas has two young sons aged six and ten. What offense did they commit? Shall we punish the sons for the crimes of the fathers? If we were to take that course, then if a commoner were to steal a loaf of bread, would his son bear the punishment, as well? And what of wives and daughters? What of grandchildren? Where do we draw the line? If, as Arwyn’s vassal, Count Davan should be condemned for doing his duty to his feudal lord, then should we not also condemn all those troops who followed him? And their families, as well? If we were to proceed in such a manner, the empire would soon lack for a population.
“I say it is enough that Arwyn, who began the war, has paid for his mistake. There is no purpose to be served in further retribution. Boeruine and Talinie must present a strong, united front to defend their borders against incursions from Thurazor and the Five Peaks. Taeghas and Brosengae must now turn their efforts from the prosecution of the war to the pacification of the Seamist Mountains, for the ogres have grown ever bolder while we were in conflict and the dwarves can no longer contain them. Let us forget past differences and proceed with the task of rebuilding. Let us turn our efforts from planning strategy for war to the planting of crops and the raising of livestock.
“Henceforth, we shall be united. To strengthen that union, I propose to send permanent ambassadors from the Imperial Court to each barony and duchy. Each of those ambassadors shall take with him a staff with which to form an embassy that will communicate regularly and directly with the lord high chamberlain, so that the emperor shall have his personal representatives present at each holding.
“And to further cement the ties between us, I am pleased to formally announce on this day the betrothal of my sisters, the Princess Rhiannon to Lord Devan of Taeghas, the Princess Corielle to Lord Rowan of Talinie, the Princess Kristana to Lord Brom of Brosengae, and the Princess Laera to Lord Derwyn of Boeruine. Thus will those lands now be forever tied to our royal house by oath of fealty and bond of blood, and we shall quarrel no more. And in honor of these ties that shall reunite our empire, I hereby proclaim a festival that shall last for seven days and seven nights. Let the temple bells ring and let your voices raise in song and merriment. The war is ended! Let peace reign throughout Imperial Anuire!”
After the initial stunned reaction, the multitude broke out in wild cheering and, on cue, all the temple bells within the city began to toll. All present saw the wisdom and mercy of the emperor and all raised a chant to hail his name. “Roele! Roele! Roele!”
Laera had listened to her brother’s final words with shock and amazement. It was the last thing she could have possibly expected. Had Arwyn won the war, as she had been sure he would, she would have married Derwyn, retained her rank, and eventually become the Empress of Anuire. Now, she was still going to marry Derwyn, only instead of standing to inherit the title of empress, she would be diminished in rank from Princess of Anuire to Duchess of Boeruine. Her lot hadn’t changed at all from the days when she had been betrothed to Arwyn, only now instead of marrying the father, she would wed the son and live at Seaharrow, on the dreary, storm-lashed coast of a distant province. Fate was ironic, cruel, and fickle.