suffering attacks from the Hinterlands for more than a decade,” Elbor shot back.
“As have we,” Josef replied wearily. “It has always been thus among the clans on the southwestern shores. We battle the Hinterlands, Dolphys battles the Eastlanders, Berne and Adyar battle the Northmen, Leok battles the storms. But we have never come against each other, clan on clan.”
“You t-tax your people into the ground, Elbor, while you do l-little to protect them,” Bayr leveled.
“I collect coin for the keepers. And what do they do for us?” Elbor shouted, echoing the accusations of the king.
It was a lie. The keepers lived on very little, herding their own sheep, milking their own goats, and tending their own gardens. Whatever coin came from the clans by way of the king was a pittance. Alms were collected during the tournament, and every farthing went to the preservation of the temple itself. There were no wealthy keepers.
“You collect coin for yourself and for the king. As do we all,” Bayr replied. “The k-king requires far more than the keepers.”
“Careful, Temple Boy,” the king whispered, the words slithering from his mouth.
“This is all true,” Lothgar interrupted, oblivious to the tension that coiled around him. “Yet . . . I have wondered why the keepers can do nothing to end the scourge among our women.”
“As have I,” Josef admitted.
“Aye,” Elbor agreed, eager to turn the subject away from his own failures.
“Something must be done,” Benjie agreed, and his acquiescence had the king sitting back in his chair as though he pondered the question. The chair squeaked with the motion.
“And something has been done,” the king said. “I have reached an agreement with the North King. The princess will be a queen.”
Hod held his breath, sick for his brother.
“She will leave with King Gudrun for the Northlands in two days. In return, the North King has agreed to pull his warriors from Berne. An announcement will be made after the melee tomorrow. Your precious daughters of the temple will be left to age beside your useless keepers,” the king mocked.
Silence wrapped the room in guilty relief, and the chieftains began to murmur like it was the only feasible course of action. Benjie stood from the table as though it were settled, and Elbor lumbered to his feet as well, clearly eager to escape further condemnation.
“She should not be sold,” Bayr said, stating the words precisely, breathing between each one, speaking slowly even though Hod could hear how his heart raced.
“She is not being sold. She is going to be a queen, and she will help her country in the process,” Benjie argued.
“She should be queen of Saylok. She is the only one . . . of her kind,” Bayr insisted.
Banruud laughed, sitting back in his chair; it squealed against his weight.
“And how . . . exactly . . . would she be queen of Saylok?” Banruud sneered. “Did you think . . . you . . . might have her? Did you suppose you could marry the princess . . . and when I die . . . you and she could reign in my stead?” Banruud’s voice was hushed with mock surprise, and Elbor grunted.
“That will never be, Temple Boy. Alba’s destiny does not include you,” Banruud said, his tone flat.
Bayr was silent. Hod knew he had never wanted to reign. But it was evident that he did want Alba.
“You are a bloody cur, Banruud,” Aidan of Adyar growled. He stood abruptly, his chair scraping the stone, an echo of his disgust. He left the council table without another word, striding for the doors with his men trailing after him. Lothgar was slower to leave, but he did not argue the king’s decision or seek to offer an alternative solution. He followed Aidan from the room.
“We’re done here,” Banruud said, dismissing those who still lingered. Bayr did not leave the table. His heart was a counterrhythm to the king’s, and Hod listened to them both as the room emptied around them and the two men sat, alone but for Hod and a handful of the king’s guard, who hovered near the doors, and Dred and Dakin, who remained in silent support of their chieftain.
“Don’t do this . . . to Alba. To Saylok. The people . . . look . . . to her. She is their . . . only hope,” Bayr pled, his voice low. His heart brayed in his chest.
“It is done,” Banruud said, enunciating each word with a thump of his fist