them. While he was sorry for their evident grief, from simple common humanity, he found that it didn't affect him nearly so much as the thought of Serafia's loss, and he'd never even known her lost love, little Kip's father.
He didn't hate the duke and duchess's lost son. Indeed, he'd mourned the loss of whatever relationship he might have had with his unknown brother, were they ever to meet. Now he realised that regret was equally foolish. There was simply no connection between him and these people.
Duchess Nisina wasn't listening. 'Is that why you plotted this horrible revenge? Because we gave him what should have been yours?' Her handkerchief tore, twisted beyond endurance.
'We have always provided for you. Didn't you know?' Duke Secaris asked desperately.
'I know.' Aremil's mouth was as dry as ashes. He glanced longingly at the tisane but it would spill if he tried to lift it.
Failla made a move but he glared at her, forbidding. He'd be cursed if he'd let her raise it to his lips, a helpless invalid.
'We could never have raised you as our heir. Parnilesse and Carluse would have allied against us before you even reached manhood.' Now the Duke was pacing back and forth across the coldly sunlit window. 'I did write to you, before Cassat marched on Tyrle and since, though you've never answered.' Secaris hastily checked himself. 'Perhaps my letters haven't reached you through all this upheaval.'
He was doing his utmost to be fair. That cut Aremil more deeply still. The lie he wanted to tell scalded his throat. 'No. That's to say--'
'Master Aremil has so many calls on his time,' Failla answered swiftly.
'No.' Aremil cut her off. She wasn't going to lie for him. 'Forgive me. I received your letters but I haven't found myself able to read them.'
'I don't understand.' Bemusement shaded the sorrow in Secaris's gaze as he halted. 'What has all this been for?'
'For a Lescar where mothers don't weep for dead sons.' Aremil spoke before he could help himself. 'Where the weak and vulnerable are cherished and protected.'
'We gave you the best life we could!' Swift anger roughened Secaris's reply.
'Believe me, I bear no grudges.' At least the helpless jerk of Aremil's head emphasised his words. 'I know I have been much more fortunate than most in my situation.'
'We won't name Matrim as Draximal's heir.' Duchess Nisina was still wrapped in her fear and grief. 'Don't send your soldiers to kill him. Show his sisters mercy. If they quit any claim on Draximal, let them marry into Tormalin and swear not to pursue their children. They're good girls, truly, and Matrim never hoped to rule.' She stumbled over her pleas, terrified tears pouring down her cheeks.
'I will cede the rule of Draximal to you and we will go into exile,' the duke said stiffly. 'As long as you promise to end this slaughter of innocents, I will swear whatever oaths you demand.'
'Your Grace!' Aremil tried to curb his anger. 'Whatever you think of me--'
Wracked with emotion, a tremor ran down his arm. His hand jerked and knocked over the tisane. Failla bent to gather up the glass and its holder, sopping up the spill with her apron.
Aremil wanted to tell her to leave it. He opened his mouth but his chest was too tight. If he spoke, he knew he'd start coughing.
'You say you're hoping for something better?' Duke Secaris was searching his face. 'You and whoever helped bring all this misery upon us? What is your plan for Lescar?'
'We will devise a fair system of governance.' It took every scrap of self-control that Aremil could muster to answer clearly. 'Through debates with nobles and scholars committed to peace, and with the guildmasters' and merchants' councils, and with the priests who administer the shrines and their charities, to give the most humble a voice.'
'What right have commoners and craftsmen to say who rules them?' Duke Secaris was genuinely perplexed. 'The natural order cannot be denied.'
Aremil would have tried to explain but a cramp was tightening around his chest like a leather strap. His temples throbbed with a ferocious headache.
'That's a discussion for another time,' Failla said with scarcely veiled anger.
Provoked, Secaris was glad to vent his frustration on her. 'His parents should have first claim on his time.'
'I can't bear this.' Bursting into noisy weeping, Duchess Nisina stumbled blindly for the door.
'Let me help you.' Lord Cullough hurriedly offered his arm. 'Let me summon my wife.'
His voice faded as he escorted the sobbing woman down