The Rising (The Rising #4) - Kristen Ashley Page 0,43

Firenze before Alfie took Wilmer’s advice.

“There was a massacre in the Lesser Thicket Forest,” he announced. “Thirty-two women had their throats slit after they were violated and stabbed. The bodies of two men were found with them. This in an area that beseeched the crown repeatedly, as women with some regularity for some years had gone missing.”

Wilmer blanched.

Seeing it, Alfie seethed.

This bloody imbecile.

“You know of this?” he pushed.

“Carrington told me he dispatched investigators. They were found to be runaways.”

“I’m certain it is now unsurprising to you, but Carrington lied.”

“By the gods,” Wilmer whispered.

Indeed.

For if Carrington lied about this, it could have to do with his caring naught about the citizens of Wodell.

It could also have to do with The Rising.

“Do you remember aught else about it?” Alfie asked.

“I really…I just really…” Wilmer’s shoulders sagged as he muttered, “I did not pay much attention.”

“Thirty-two women are dead, and it is an assumption, but whatever number of girls went missing before them, they might be in the same state, for they have never been found. Does this not penetrate with you?”

The man’s shoulders straightened as he admonished, “You are still speaking to a king.”

“It is a title True left you with because his mother would wish it. But it has no meaning. And I would assume, by your reply, that the deaths of your citizens by such appalling means actually doesn’t penetrate. Which, in turn, indicates you have no meaning.”

Angry red rushed up Wilmer’s neck to his face.

“We are done,” Alfie muttered. “I have things to do.”

“I would go to Bishop Cross,” Wilmer suddenly declared.

Alfie stared at him.

“Gallienus told me I had an open invitation to holiday there,” he continued. “It is warm at the Cross. And far from here. I will take my manservant and enough staff to manage the castle situated there and I will stay for the foreseeable future. This…all these…” he threw out a weak hand, “goings-on. They weary me.”

Alfie did not remind him that Gallienus was no longer in the position to invite anything.

Nor did he share Wilmer was no longer in the position to requisition staff to take anywhere.

But as True would likely not hesitate to demur, Alfie didn’t.

Thus, he asked, “Will you sail, or will you ride?”

“I see I will not be missed,” Wilmer sniffed.

“No, you won’t,” Alfie affirmed without hesitation.

“You will find, the longer this war lasts in Airen, and True is away fighting it, how onerous is the mantle of rule.”

The Airenzian war, if no ravens had gone astray that provided conflicting information, had now officially lasted all of four bloody days.

Alfie didn’t get into that either.

“On the contrary,” he replied blithely, “I find incarcerating those who caused harm and moving forward in bringing them to justice, righting a troubled treasury, and overseeing the expansion of the scope of our economy in an optimistic manner the likes of which this realm has not ever seen quite rewarding.”

“Yes, and you have the luxury of one day stepping down when all that goes to hell.”

“So did you,” Alfie reminded him, watching Wilmer’s body jerk. “Though, for my part, as my king’s counsellor, and after swearing an oath to protect my land that I intend to keep, regardless I am now crippled, I don’t intend to do that until I retire to a hearth and my books at a day when I am gray with age.”

“I tire of this conversation,” Wilmer decreed.

“This is good, for so do I.”

After giving Alfie a long, hard look, Wilmer whipped his head around before his body in a manner that made Alfie nearly burst with laughter, before he flounced out much like Bronagh had done.

The door again slammed.

And Alfie put Wilmer out of his mind, and doing so, Bronagh entered it.

A carriage ride.

What was that woman thinking?

Alfie then had to force Bronagh from his mind (a much more difficult endeavor), and he did so as he picked up his sticks, hefted himself out of his chair and moved to the fire.

Carefully, he balanced on one stick as he quickly fed fuel to the irons.

He then maneuvered himself to the chair by the fire and settled in, equally pleased with himself he got where he was without a tumble, just as he was frustrated that was something he considered a victory.

He picked up the reports True had commissioned on how the counties and groups of charmed folk were reacting to the idea of a parliament. Files he’d abandoned when Tor and Apollo had arrived after he’d called for them when Mikaelsson