“You’re vulnerable,” Emily said, flatly. “Randor will never let you control your barony, not the way it should be controlled. He’ll be too afraid of your son posing a dynastic threat to his bloodline. If his grandson is born safely, your son will be…”
Alicia gasped. “She’s pregnant?”
“Alassa is pregnant,” Emily confirmed. “Is that not common knowledge?”
“No.” Alicia shook her head, mournfully. “After all the rumors…no one will take the prospect seriously.”
Emily winced. She had no way to know if Alassa had merely imagined she was pregnant or if she’d miscarried very early into each of the pregnancies, but either way…too many people had suspected she was barren. Randor too, perhaps. It might explain why he’d been so insistent on keeping Alicia’s child close to the throne. Now, no one would believe Alassa was pregnant until the king made a formal announcement. Some people had excellent reason to want to believe that the Line of Alexis would end with Alassa.
“She’s pregnant,” Emily said. She met Alicia’s eyes. “And what do you think will happen to you?”
Alicia pulled up her legs, wrapping her arms around them. “I…I don’t know.”
Emily pushed as much certainty into her voice as she could. “Randor may marry you, if he puts Queen Marlena aside, and retroactively declare your child legitimate. If he does…at that point, he may have enough clout to dismiss any threat from the remaining nobles or crush them if they rise against him. Or…he may simply discard you, once you have served your purpose. You have already served your purpose. There is no way he’ll let you take control of your birthright.”
Alicia’s face twisted. “Why not?”
“Because you would pose a threat to him,” Emily said. “The king has always struggled to cut the nobles down to size. He now feels he can do it without risking a disastrous defeat of his own. If he wins, the best you can hope for is being a puppet queen or comfortable imprisonment in the Tower.”
Alicia gulped. “He wouldn’t do that.”
“Are you sure?” Emily leaned forward. “Where is the Queen?”
“She’s ill,” Alicia said.
“She’s been ill for nearly three years,” Emily snapped. “The only public event she attended was her daughter’s wedding. And the excuses keep changing. How long do you think it will be before she’s quietly divorced–or murdered?”
Alicia blanched. “The king…”
“The king is a ruthless egomaniac who is focused on two objectives,” Emily said, allowing her voice to harden. “He wants to tighten his grip on the country, which means crushing anyone who can raise an armed force to resist him, and to have a male heir. If Alassa’s child is a boy, your son will be for the chop; if the child is a girl, he’ll take your son and turn him into his heir.”
She saw the fear in Alicia’s eyes, but she didn’t dare soften her tone. “And what will happen if Alassa takes the throne instead?”
“No,” Alicia said. “I…she’d kill me.”
“She certainly has no reason to be pleased with you,” Emily said, carefully. Alicia hadn’t been given a choice, not when she’d been the king’s ward, but Alassa probably didn’t really appreciate it. “On the other hand, she would be grateful if you were to assist her rise to power.”
Alicia glared at her. “How many people helped Randor, only to be discarded when he no longer needed them?”
Ouch, Emily thought. It was a fair point, even though she suspected that Alicia was referring to her rather than Paren or the Levellers. And she might not believe any promises…
“You have my word of honor that I will do everything in my power to convince Alassa to leave you in peace, as long as you don’t do anything to threaten the peace of her kingdom,” she said. “And if she doesn’t agree to leave you alone, I will take you and your son somewhere outside the kingdom.”
Alicia’s eyebrows rose. “You would do that for me?”
“If you assist us,” Emily said. She didn’t blame Alicia for being sceptical. Betraying a ruler was one thing, but betraying a friend was quite another. “I do have several places to put you where you and your son will be safe.”
“And harmless,” Alicia muttered.
Emily nodded. “Yes,” she said. There was no point in denying it. “But at least you’d be alive.”
She leaned back, again. “If you stay with the king, the best you can hope for is becoming a pretty thing for him to carry on his arm. You will never wield power or influence, let alone go back to your barony. Alassa, on the other hand, will reward you for helping her.”
“Really,” Alicia said, sarcastically.
“If nothing else, you having a son of royal blood may be helpful to her later,” Emily pointed out, smoothly. “Interested?”
“I don’t know,” Alicia said. “I just don’t know.”
Emily nodded. She wasn’t too surprised. Alicia hated and feared Randor, but she was too aware of his presence–and how thoroughly his power pervaded her life–to go against him lightly. It would be hard to gain any traction at all before he shut her down, not when everyone who was supposed to be working for her actually worked for him. Normally, Randor would be risking the wrath of the other Barons, but now…now, Randor was on the verge of war with them anyway. They could hardly get more hostile.
She removed a chat parchment from her pocket and held it out. “This is primed for you and me,” she said. “The first time you want to use it, prick your finger and let a little blood drip onto the parchment. It’ll be sucked into the material and vanish. After that, only you and I will be able to see anything written on the parchment.”
“I thought only magicians could do that,” Alicia said. She eyed the parchment as if it were infinitively fascinating. “You’ll have the other piece, won’t you?”
“I will, yes,” Emily said. She’d primed the matching piece of parchment so Jade and Cat could read it as well as her, but no one else. “Just make sure the king’s sorcerers don’t get a look at it. They’ll know what it is.”
Alicia tensed. “And then…and then what?”
Emily shrugged. Randor seemed reluctant to execute female nobility, although he had no qualms about slaughtering female commoners. Alicia would probably wind up in the Tower or formally stripped of her power, with everything being passed to her husband. Some observers would probably claim that Lord Burrows had pulled off a brilliant political coup…
“I don’t know,” she said. “For the moment…why don’t you tell me what’s happening in the castle?”
Alicia looked down at the bed as she started to talk. Emily listened, silently matching names to faces as Alicia told her a combination of useful intelligence and pointless gossip. She didn’t care about the courtship between a minor lord and lady, or the rumor that a highborn lady had gotten pregnant off her groom, but she was genuinely interested to hear who had and hadn’t accepted the king’s invitation to court. Baroness Harkness–and her husband and adopted son–hadn’t appeared, nor had Barons Gaunt, Gaillard, Silversmith and Thornwood. Their retainers hadn’t shown their faces either, as far as Alicia knew. The battle lines were starting to take shape.
Almost all of the northern baronies and estates are allied against the king, Emily thought, slowly. This war could split the country in half.
She wasn’t too surprised. Cockatrice, Swanhaven and Winter Flower were, directly or indirectly, under Randor’s control. Gladstone was the sole exception, but Baron Gladstone and Randor had been friends for decades. Gladstone wouldn’t abandon his friend as long as there was a decent chance Randor would keep his throne. And yet…the south was also where the New Learning had had the greatest impact. It was quite likely that Randor would wind up fighting a war on two fronts.
“If anything changes, I want you to tell us,” Emily said. “If, of course, you decide to help.”