“Don’t they know who we are?” Elin bristled.
“I suspect they do know who we are,” Jared answered. “And this is exactly why they treat us with such disdain.”
Elin snorted. “In that case, I wonder if your cousin Axel truly holds any sway here after all.”
“Well,” said Edvin, “I suppose we shall soon find out.”
They had reached the palace’s main stairway. There were more guards there. They were taking down the family portraits from the wall.
“What are you doing?” Elin called indignantly.
“Just following orders,” grunted one from the top of a ladder as he passed down a canvas to his companion.
Elin seemed about to respond when her attention was diverted. Jared saw that Lord Viggo, Lady Stella and his grandmother, Klara, were at the foot of the stairs, waiting to ascend.
Lady Stella had the decency to look awkward; Lord Viggo, in contrast, could not disguise his smile. Klara turned to her son. “What are they doing with the paintings?”
Before Viggo could answer, Elin swept down the staircase. “Yes, brother. What are they doing with the paintings? And what hell have you and your kin unleashed upon the court and the Princedom?”
“This is not of my making,” Viggo told her. “If you and your kin had not irretrievably weakened the Princedom, we would not be facing the challenging circumstances in which we now find ourselves.”
“You had a choice to make,” Elin told her brother. “And you have made it. You could have shown support for my son when he most needed it, but instead, you chose to maneuver your own son in a desperate grab at power.”
Viggo smiled again. “I did nothing you would not have done, sister. I think we can all agree on that.”
Elin reached out her hand and slapped Viggo viciously across the face. The weight of her blow sent him reeling. He laughed as he stumbled, his hand reaching the struck cheek, already rising with welts. Jared—he and Edvin stood midway up the stairs—watched as Lady Stella stepped forward. At first, it seemed she had done so to assist her stricken husband, but this proved not to be the case.
Instead, she extended her own hand and gave Elin as hard a slap as she had dealt.
Elin did not waver but stood stunned.
“You have held sway here for too long,” Lady Stella said icily. “And you have come to confuse opportunism with divine right.”
As Elin lifted her hand to her cheek, Lady Stella reached out to help Klara onto the stairway. “Come,” she said.
Elin was trembling as Jared and Edvin came to stand on either side of her. As they did so, Lord Viggo got to his feet. “The time of the Wynyards is over!” he announced. “The time of the Blaxlands is come!”
Elin shook her head. “Are you quite blind to the flags of Paddenburg now flying from the palace roof? Congratulations, brother, you have managed to seize power at last—and to hold on to it for approximately two heartbeats. I do believe this may be your crowning achievement.”
Anxious to avoid any further discord, Jared nodded to Edvin and they led their mother down the last remaining stairs and past Lord Viggo. As they continued along the corridor toward the Council Chamber, there were yet more Paddenburg officers, traipsing along in both directions. One was walking toward the Council Chamber with an axe in his hand; others moved in the opposite direction, carrying something away from the chamber.
“The mural!” Elin said, shock reducing her voice to a whisper.
Jared saw that she was right. The guards were carrying away the painted panels of the precious mural that told the history of Archenfield.
“Stop!” Elin ordered them. Some residual authority in her voice caused them to pause. “Where are you taking those panels?”
“We’re making a bonfire on the palace lawn,” one of them told her, in discordantly amiable tones.
Elin shuddered. “You most certainly are not. I command you to set them down.”
The guard looked at her vacantly. “Sorry,” he said, dispensing with any formal address. “We’re just following orders.”
“Whose orders?” Elin inquired.
“The new ruler of Archenfield,” the guard told her.
“Come on!” Elin said, her voice high with manic determination as she strode ahead.
Jared exchanged a glance with Edvin, wondering what horrors might lie in wait in the Council Chamber itself. As they turned the corner, his question was answered. The mural had been dismantled, all save one final panel—the one that told of the Princedom’s beginnings, steeped in mist and fire, myth and legend. Even now, another of the guards was busily engaged with tearing the panel roughly from the wall.
“No!” Elin cried out.
Jared realized that she was no longer concerned with the panel—she was spectator to an even more disturbing sight. The guard they had noticed before, carrying the axe, was now swinging the weapon at the Prince’s Table. Jared watched, flinching, as the blade buried itself with a heavy thud into the table’s thick surface. Were they about to bear witness to the destruction of the Prince’s Table?
The blade seemed to be stuck. He could see the extreme effort in the guard’s face as he tried to extract it. Under any other circumstances, it might have been comical. But Jared saw his mother’s skin turn gray at the sight.
“No,” she said, more softly than before. She swayed uncertainly on her feet and he thought she might be about to faint. Jared reached out to take her by the hand as Edvin moved closer to her other side.
“You must be strong,” he told her. “It is only a table.”
She gripped his hand as if her life depended upon it, then turned her face toward him. “It is not only a table,” she said. “It is everything. They might as well take the blade of that axe to my neck. Or to yours.”
Jared bit down on his lip. He was far from certain what the invaders had planned for him and his family. He stepped into the Council Chamber, anxious now to talk to Axel and find out how he could have countenanced the destruction of all that was sacred to the Princedom.
“Cousin Jared,” Axel said, sitting in the Prince’s Chair at the far end of the table. He looked strangely calm as, around him, all hell broke loose.
“You sent for me,” Jared said.
Axel nodded. “Yes, we have to talk. But I will talk with you alone.”
“The Wynyards move as one—” Elin began, but found herself cut off.
“You act as if you still hold some sway here, Aunt Elin,” Axel said, rising to his feet. Then he brought his hands together and clapped loudly. All motion within the Council Chamber ceased as all faces turned to the new Prince.
“I want everyone to leave the chamber. Now! I will see my cousin alone.”
Jared could see the reluctance and uncertainty in the faces of his mother and brother. “Do as Axel commands,” he told them.
Edvin nodded, but his mother’s feet stayed rooted to the floor. The guards brushed past them. Glancing around, Jared’s eyes traveled from the broken mural, the last piece of which now hung by a final nail from the wall, over to the Prince’s Table, where the guard’s axe was still embedded in its surface. Suddenly, he understood his mother’s point of view. The scene was as devastating to him as if he had stepped onto a battlefield.
Behind him, he heard the chamber doors close. He turned and saw that it was Axel who had closed them.
“At last, it’s just you and me,” Axel said, walking toward him. “Take a seat, Cousin Jared. Any seat you care for. What I have to tell you will not take long, I promise.”
FORTY-FIVE
The Balcony, the Palace, Archenfield
“ASTA!”
Crossing the balcony, Asta felt her heart sink. The very last person she wanted to see or talk to was Lady Koel. Her eyes briefly met those of her erstwhile ally, but she quickly glanced away and kept walking.
“Wait! Please wait, we need to talk.”
Asta stopped dead in her tracks, unable to stop the anger from rising within her. “
What could we possibly have to talk about?”
Koel did not acknowledge Asta’s fury but continued in her silky tones. “We have much to talk about, Asta. But not here, let’s go somewhere—”
“Somewhere more private? Somewhere we are less likely to be overheard?” Asta folded her arms. “No, you and I have spent too long skulking in corridors and shadows,” she said. “If we are going to talk, let’s do it here—out in the open.” She made her way to the edge of the palace balcony, resting her hands on the stone and gazing out at the deceptively tranquil landscape beyond.
“It’s cold,” Koel said, coming to stand behind her. “It’s starting to snow.”
“You’ll live,” Asta said, hugging her own coat closer. “Besides, this talk will not take very long. We both have things to get on with. You are the Edling now.”
Koel’s eyes were bright. “Yes, aren’t you going to congratulate me?” Seeing the sour expression on Asta’s face, Koel shrugged and leaned back nonchalantly against the balcony. “I can see that you are angry with me, Asta. I know you think I betrayed you and your trust.”
“Yes, I do think that,” Asta confirmed. “What else could I think? You said we were allies but in fact you were plotting against me—on behalf of your brother—from the beginning. It was all a big charade.”
Koel reached out her hand to Asta’s shoulder, as if to squeeze it, but seemed to have second thoughts and merely brushed away a flake of snow that had settled there. “You have to believe me when I say that this was never personal. I had a job to accomplish. And though you are angry with me now—and I do understand why—I have always very much enjoyed spending time with you.” She paused. “I thought perhaps you felt the same.”
“No,” Asta said, shaking her head. “You are mistaken.”
Koel hung her head. “I know that I have broken the trust between us and I am sorry for that. You probably don’t believe me, but it’s the truth.”
Asta’s eyes blazed with barely restrained fury. “I’m not sure that you are the best judge of what is truth and what is fiction,” she said.
Koel shrugged again. “I’ll let you have that one. I deserve that.” She turned around and put her gloved hands down on the balcony, beside Asta’s. “I think there’s still a lot I could teach you about the workings of life in court, you know. And I would do that with the utmost pleasure. You and I have two of the sharpest minds around here.” She smiled. “Together, we could be powerful allies.”
Asta shook her head. “The problem is that I’d never know if we actually were together,” she said. “What you say and what you do are two very different things. I suspect that the only side you are really on, that you were ever on, is your own, Lady Koel.”
For the first time, Koel looked piqued. “I am on the side of my family. I am on the side of Archenfield. I want what is best for this Princedom.”
“Prince Jared is—”
“Prince Jared was only ever a footnote in the history books, Asta. I know you have a great fondness for him, but you are smart enough to realize I am right. Under the current set of circumstances, we needed Prince Anders to be swiftly succeeded by Prince Axel, with his far greater experience and—”
“So he might hand over power to the Princes of Paddenburg?”
Koel frowned. “He hasn’t handed over power,” she said. “He has negotiated with them. And, in my view, very successfully. My brother is playing a long game, Asta. When the dust settles, and we have a clearer sense of the new shape of things, there will be wonderful opportunities for people like you and me.”
“I don’t want any part in the new shape of things,” Asta declared. “What I want is Prince Jared back on the throne, where he belongs, and not under house arrest!”
Koel leaned in closer. “Word of advice, Asta. I’d keep your voice down and treasonous thoughts like that to yourself. They won’t help Cousin Jared, and they certainly won’t help you.”
“Thank you, but you’ll understand if I’m unwilling to take any more advice from you.” Asta drew away from the ledge. “And now, I am beginning to grow cold—as much from the company as the weather. I should be on my way.”
“Before you go,” Koel said, “there’s just one question I have for you, if you will indulge me?”
Asta shrugged. “You can ask.”
“You saved my brother’s life in Mellerad. He told me what happened. You grabbed his fallen sword and plunged it into the soldier who was threatening him.”
Asta met Koel’s gaze. “Are you wondering if I now regret my actions?”
“No.” Koel shook her head. There was a strange look in her eyes. “What I’m wondering is how it felt to kill someone. For the first time, I mean.”
Asta held Koel’s gaze, without responding, for a moment. Then she smiled sharply. “I’m a girl from the settlements,” she said. “What makes you think it was the first time I killed someone?”
The Council Chamber, the Palace, Archenfield
“So.” Jared’s eyes sought out Axel’s across the breadth of the Prince’s Table. “Did they buy it?”
Axel nodded, smiling at his cousin. “Everything we agreed to before,” he confirmed. “Your house arrest. The preservation of the key infrastructures of Archenfield. And”—he paused—“sending you and your sympathizers into exile.”
“And you’re certain they’ll hold true to their word and still their swords?”
Axel nodded. “I am,” he said. “The bloodshed they unleashed, though ferocious, is at an end now. Ven and Henning have done what they came here to do—they have demonstrated their superior military strength, they have claimed first Tanaka and now Archenfield as their first two conquests within the Thousand Territories.” He rose from his seat and walked over to stand at Jared’s side. “But they want a jewel in the crown of Paddenburg’s expanding empire. Not a wasteland.” Axel’s hand came to rest on Jared’s shoulder. “I know how deeply you feel about the trail of devastation the forces of Paddenburg have left in their wake but, being brutal, it could have been much, much worse.” He squeezed Jared’s shoulder. “And it is at an end now. I promise you that.”
Jared frowned. He wanted to believe Axel. He did believe him. But still he was troubled.
“Remember what you said when we met before?” Axel continued, perhaps sensing his discomfort. “That you expected to return here to find the palace razed to the ground? Well, that hasn’t happened, has it? Oh, it’s typical of their bully-boy tactics that they would burn the mural and sling an axe at this very table. But, you may rest assured, these are only surface wounds. Now they have what they want”—he paused and smiled—“now they think they have what they want, Archenfield can begin to heal again.”
“With you working from within this new order and me working from beyond the borders?”
Axel nodded. “Exactly so. Until the time is right to effect the necessary change we both desire.”
Jared let out a sigh. “They really have no suspicion whatsoever of our alliance?” he pressed.
Axel shook his head sharply. “None whatsoever. An alliance between the deposed Prince of All Archenfield and the very one who deposed him?” His finger lightly traced the glimmering letters on the surface of the table, then his eyes returned to Jared. “Who would ever believe such a thing?”
“Can I really trust you?” Jared found himself asking.
Axel laughed at that. “Of course not,” he said. “I’d have thought you’d have learned by now that the smartest way is to trust no one.” His words seemed to echo within the expanse of the Council Chamber.
Jared shook his head. “Were you always such a cynic?”
“One person’s cynic is another’s realist,” Axel observed. “But I suspect that I will never completely win you around to my view of the world. We are cut from a very different cloth, cousin. Which only makes our new and secret alliance all the more potent, don’t you think?”
Jared nodded—slowly, cautiously.
“The key thing,??
? Axel added, “is that none of your supporters can know about this until you are safely beyond the borders. Then, and only then, can you share our plans with them and start preparations for the next phase.”
Jared felt a wave of nervous energy course through him. He had barely returned from one journey, and another was already beginning.
“You should go now,” Axel told him. “The less time we spend together, the better. I’ve dealt with one spy at the heart of the Princedom today, but doubtless there are others. Besides, the palace is overrun with purple shirts, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Jared nodded, rising to his feet.
“But before you go, Cousin Jared, there’s something I want to say to you. I want you to know that in the few short weeks of your reign, you have proved yourself twice the Prince your brother ever was.”
Jared smiled ruefully at Axel’s words and shook his head.
“It’s true,” Axel told him, stepping closer. “I’m sure you became as sick as I did at the intonings of Prince Anders the Golden. But it was all smoke and mirrors. If Anders seemed golden, it was down to those of us around him—myself, your mother and, dare I say it, Logan Wilde?” He paused. “We molded your brother like clay. And he allowed himself to be molded.” Axel was standing shoulder to shoulder with his cousin now, and he smiled at Jared. “You—in contrast—have, from day one, consistently ignored the advice directed at you from all quarters—well, save perhaps from Asta Peck. And, Cousin Jared, this made you the better Prince.” He placed his hand on Jared’s shoulder once more. “You are your own man,” he said. “And I respect that. It’s one of the few things we have in common. That, and our abiding love for, and commitment to, Archenfield.”
Jared considered his cousin’s words, then gently but firmly brushed Axel’s hand away. “If you thought I was a better Prince than Anders, it’s a shame you didn’t have enough faith in me not to launch a conspiracy against me in the few days I was absent.”