The Beauty of Darkness - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,172
get there, but then, before I was ready, the door to his outer chamber opened and we were ushered in by my aunt Cloris. The rest of the cabinet members, including the Royal Scholar, were already there.
“Go on in,” she said. “He’s waiting.”
My pulse pounded, and we filtered into his room.
He sat in his bed, propped up with pillows. His face was lined and gaunt and looking far older than his years, but his eyes were bright. My mother’s chair was beside the bed, and their hands were laced together in uncharacteristic familiarity.
His eyes landed on me first, lingering for a long scrutinizing moment before he finally moved on, eyeing the others present.
“I understand you were having a meeting,” he said, “and I wasn’t invited?”
“Only because you were indisposed, Your Majesty,” I answered.
His brows pulled together. “I guess a daily dose of poison didn’t quite agree with me.”
“Your Maj—”
My father scowled. “I’ll get to you, Howland. Wait your turn.”
The general nodded.
“Which of you is the king of Dalbreck?”
“That would be me, Your Majesty,” Rafe answered.
My father lifted his hand with much effort and waved Rafe closer with a crooked finger. “You here to take over my kingdom?”
“No, sir, only to assist.” It was clear my father was still very weak, and I knew Rafe measured his words carefully. I also detected a certain nervousness in his response, and Rafe was never nervous. It made my breath catch.
“Come closer. Let me get a better look at you.”
Rafe stepped forward and fell to one knee at his bedside.
“What are you on your knee for?” my father growled. “One king doesn’t bow to another. Your steward didn’t teach you that?” His eyes danced, and he briefly glanced at me before turning back to Rafe. “Unless you’re on bended knee for another reason? If that’s the case, you’re facing the wrong person.”
Oh, dear gods. He was toying with Rafe. This was not my father. Had the poison addled his brain?
“No other reason,” Rafe said, and quickly returned to his feet.
My father waved Rafe back.
“And you must be the Assassin,” he said to Kaden. He waved Kaden forward in similar fashion. Kaden did not fall to a knee, but I knew he wouldn’t. He would never have bowed to royalty, even if it cost him his life. My father didn’t seem to notice the snub and studied Kaden. He swallowed, and I saw a glimmer of regret in his expression, as if he saw the resemblance between Kaden and the Vicergent. “I knew about you. Your father told me your mother took you away.”
“Deception has always been his strength,” Kaden answered.
My father’s chest rose in a ragged breath. “And yours too, I understand.”
I glanced at Pauline. She had been in on the briefing, but had she told him about Terravin?
“You here to kill anyone, boy?”
A faint grin lit Kaden’s eyes. He was ready to play this game with my father. “Only on your daughter’s orders.”
“She order you to kill me?”
Kaden shrugged. “Not yet.”
My father’s eyes sparked, the game invigorating him, bringing him back to life. His gaze turned to me. He scowled again. “You disobeyed my orders, Arabella, and I understand you bartered off the wedding cloak jewels that have been in our family for generations. You must be punished.”
Generals Howland and Perry shifted happily on their feet.
“Your Majesty,” Rafe intervened, “if I may—”
“No you may not!” my father snapped. “This is still my kingdom, not yours. Step back, King Jaxon.”
I nodded to Rafe, trying to assure him. Wait.
My father settled back against his pillows. “And your punishment is that you will continue to reign in my stead, enduring all the endless absurd peckings of the office until I am fully recovered. Do you accept your punishment, Arabella?”
My throat was thick, aching. I stepped forward. “Yes, Your Majesty, I do.” I swallowed and then added, “On one condition.”
Surprised mumbles erupted.
Even in his weak state, my father managed to roll his eyes. “A condition on your punishment? You haven’t changed, Arabella.”
“Oh yes, Father, I most definitely have.”
“The condition?”
“You will support me in whatever I decide, because there are many hard decsions that still lie ahead—and some of them will not be popular with everyone.”
“Unpopular like the coup?”
“Yes, that unpopular.”
“Then I approve your condition.” He looked past me at everyone else. “I am confident that Arabella will meet her punishment to my full satisfaction. Does anyone object?”
No one spoke, though I knew words silently raged on some tongues.
“Good,” my father said. “Now everyone out. I want to