Blackveil
Page 127
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
The Weapons intimated their initial investigation led them to believe both arrows had been intended for Zachary. Whether he shielded her or not, he likely would have been hit. Her father’s death was an accident.
In the waning light, beads of sweat glistened on Zachary’s brow where his silver fillet usually rested. He mumbled unintelligibly. Estora reached over and touched his cheek with the back of her hand. He was hot. She rose from her chair and hastened to the anteroom. There she found Master Destarion huddled in intense, hushed conversation with Colin, General Harborough, and her cousin. She wondered briefly where Captain Mapstone was.
“Master Destarion?”
The huddle broke apart and they all turned to her.
“Yes, my lady?”
“I believe he has a fever.”
Destarion hurried into the bedchamber with his assistants on his heels. Estora intended to follow, but Colin called to her.
“My lady,” he said, “may we have a word?”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
Colin extended a hand to her and guided her to the nearest chair. “This has been a most difficult day, and as acting castellan, I wish to convey the realm’s deepest condolences on the passing of your father. He was a good lord-governor and much loved by the people of Coutre, and I know all the eastern provinces looked to him for guidance.”
Estora nodded, accepting his words for what they were.
“I’ve asked the royal death surgeons to care for your father’s remains in accordance with your and your mother’s wishes.”
“Thank you.” Having the royal death surgeons attend her father was a great honor. Their services were usually reserved for only the immediate members of the royal family, but now and then special personages were designated for their attention. Had Colin not offered their services, she and her mother would have had to contact a suitable undertaker in the noble quarter, which would have been very trying in the midst of their grief.
“We are most appreciative, Counselor Dovekey,” Richmont told Colin. “Lord Coutre was a great man. Like a father to me.”
Colin bowed. Then to Estora he said, “This has been doubly difficult for you, for now your betrothed lies injured within as well, and we do not know how it will go for him.”
Estora began to wonder what Colin was leading up to, for she had never heard so many words from him at one time. She glanced at Richmont, his expression was eager, and she grew very suspicious. General Harborough stood off some paces watching the proceedings.
“You may as well come out with it,” Estora said. “The lot of you obviously have something you wish to say.”
Colin and Richmont exchanged glances, and then Colin explained. He told her how it was unclear whether or not Zachary had designated an heir, and they would only find out when the lord-governors all assembled and opened the Royal Trust, which contained certain state secrets and Zachary’s will. Colin described the upheaval that could erupt between the lord-governors, especially if an heir was not named.
“It could be the Clan Wars all over again,” Richmont interjected. “As when King Agates Sealender failed to name an heir before his death.”
“It is why your betrothal to Zachary was so welcome,” Colin said. “With a king paired with a queen, there is stability in governance knowing that children will be born to carry on the line unbroken. Unfortunately that stability is now at great risk, especially if there were to be infighting among lord-governors contesting the realm’s leadership. There are enemies that would like to see Sacoridia weakened by it. The Hillanders brought unity to the provinces after the Clan Wars. It would be a disaster for it to dissolve.”
Estora had no difficulty in surmising where all this was leading. “You wish to move the wedding up before . . . before Zachary dies.”
“Yes, that is so. We would ensure its legitimacy, that it is indisputable you are our queen. Then, after the proper period of mourning, you may choose a husband of noble blood to join you in your rule.”
“If Zachary lives,” Estora said quietly, “I am not sure he’d be very pleased.”
“We take the responsibility entirely upon ourselves though we may forfeit our freedom or our lives for it,” Colin replied. “He will not blame you. I think in time he’d recognize we moved in the best interest of the realm.”
“When do you propose to do this thing?”
“Immediately,” Richmont said.
“Immediately?”
“The gravity of his wound dictates it,” Colin said. “Destarion recommends sooner rather than later.”
Estora’s brain reeled. “Where is Captain Mapstone? I should like to hear her thoughts on this.”
Colin shifted his stance, looked uneasy. “She took ill rather suddenly while you were in with Zachary. She’s in the mending wing. I think she was ... overcome.”
Estora raised an eyebrow. Overcome? There was not anything that would easily overcome that Rider captain, nothing that would keep her away from Zachary in his need. Illness? Perhaps, but Estora was not so naive that she didn’t know times such as these, with a monarch failing, were very perilous for all who surrounded him. She would see to the captain’s welfare later.
“I should like to speak to my mother then.”
“I will send for her,” Richmont said. “She is aware of our proposal and seemed to approve.”
Estora sighed. They had it all planned out.
As good as their word, they brought Lady Coutre to her, now a widow garbed in black, and left the two alone in Zachary’s dressing room to speak in private. Estora’s mother looked pale and severe in her mourning clothes, but stately with her shoulders held erect. Estora’s parents had never met prior to their wedding day. Their coupling had been prearranged, a matter of alliances within the province. Despite being strangers to one another in the beginning, a deep fondness had developed between them. Estora recalled how her formidable mother never backed down from her father when he was in one of his blustery moods, and how she complemented his reign with her grace as the lady of Coutre Province.
In the waning light, beads of sweat glistened on Zachary’s brow where his silver fillet usually rested. He mumbled unintelligibly. Estora reached over and touched his cheek with the back of her hand. He was hot. She rose from her chair and hastened to the anteroom. There she found Master Destarion huddled in intense, hushed conversation with Colin, General Harborough, and her cousin. She wondered briefly where Captain Mapstone was.
“Master Destarion?”
The huddle broke apart and they all turned to her.
“Yes, my lady?”
“I believe he has a fever.”
Destarion hurried into the bedchamber with his assistants on his heels. Estora intended to follow, but Colin called to her.
“My lady,” he said, “may we have a word?”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
Colin extended a hand to her and guided her to the nearest chair. “This has been a most difficult day, and as acting castellan, I wish to convey the realm’s deepest condolences on the passing of your father. He was a good lord-governor and much loved by the people of Coutre, and I know all the eastern provinces looked to him for guidance.”
Estora nodded, accepting his words for what they were.
“I’ve asked the royal death surgeons to care for your father’s remains in accordance with your and your mother’s wishes.”
“Thank you.” Having the royal death surgeons attend her father was a great honor. Their services were usually reserved for only the immediate members of the royal family, but now and then special personages were designated for their attention. Had Colin not offered their services, she and her mother would have had to contact a suitable undertaker in the noble quarter, which would have been very trying in the midst of their grief.
“We are most appreciative, Counselor Dovekey,” Richmont told Colin. “Lord Coutre was a great man. Like a father to me.”
Colin bowed. Then to Estora he said, “This has been doubly difficult for you, for now your betrothed lies injured within as well, and we do not know how it will go for him.”
Estora began to wonder what Colin was leading up to, for she had never heard so many words from him at one time. She glanced at Richmont, his expression was eager, and she grew very suspicious. General Harborough stood off some paces watching the proceedings.
“You may as well come out with it,” Estora said. “The lot of you obviously have something you wish to say.”
Colin and Richmont exchanged glances, and then Colin explained. He told her how it was unclear whether or not Zachary had designated an heir, and they would only find out when the lord-governors all assembled and opened the Royal Trust, which contained certain state secrets and Zachary’s will. Colin described the upheaval that could erupt between the lord-governors, especially if an heir was not named.
“It could be the Clan Wars all over again,” Richmont interjected. “As when King Agates Sealender failed to name an heir before his death.”
“It is why your betrothal to Zachary was so welcome,” Colin said. “With a king paired with a queen, there is stability in governance knowing that children will be born to carry on the line unbroken. Unfortunately that stability is now at great risk, especially if there were to be infighting among lord-governors contesting the realm’s leadership. There are enemies that would like to see Sacoridia weakened by it. The Hillanders brought unity to the provinces after the Clan Wars. It would be a disaster for it to dissolve.”
Estora had no difficulty in surmising where all this was leading. “You wish to move the wedding up before . . . before Zachary dies.”
“Yes, that is so. We would ensure its legitimacy, that it is indisputable you are our queen. Then, after the proper period of mourning, you may choose a husband of noble blood to join you in your rule.”
“If Zachary lives,” Estora said quietly, “I am not sure he’d be very pleased.”
“We take the responsibility entirely upon ourselves though we may forfeit our freedom or our lives for it,” Colin replied. “He will not blame you. I think in time he’d recognize we moved in the best interest of the realm.”
“When do you propose to do this thing?”
“Immediately,” Richmont said.
“Immediately?”
“The gravity of his wound dictates it,” Colin said. “Destarion recommends sooner rather than later.”
Estora’s brain reeled. “Where is Captain Mapstone? I should like to hear her thoughts on this.”
Colin shifted his stance, looked uneasy. “She took ill rather suddenly while you were in with Zachary. She’s in the mending wing. I think she was ... overcome.”
Estora raised an eyebrow. Overcome? There was not anything that would easily overcome that Rider captain, nothing that would keep her away from Zachary in his need. Illness? Perhaps, but Estora was not so naive that she didn’t know times such as these, with a monarch failing, were very perilous for all who surrounded him. She would see to the captain’s welfare later.
“I should like to speak to my mother then.”
“I will send for her,” Richmont said. “She is aware of our proposal and seemed to approve.”
Estora sighed. They had it all planned out.
As good as their word, they brought Lady Coutre to her, now a widow garbed in black, and left the two alone in Zachary’s dressing room to speak in private. Estora’s mother looked pale and severe in her mourning clothes, but stately with her shoulders held erect. Estora’s parents had never met prior to their wedding day. Their coupling had been prearranged, a matter of alliances within the province. Despite being strangers to one another in the beginning, a deep fondness had developed between them. Estora recalled how her formidable mother never backed down from her father when he was in one of his blustery moods, and how she complemented his reign with her grace as the lady of Coutre Province.
