Emily stared at him. “He has fifteen years to go before he can take the throne…”
“I will teach him how to be a king,” Randor said. His voice rang with utter conviction, although Emily wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince. Her…or himself. “I will make sure he knows how to wield power, how to lead men in battle, how to keep the nobles and merchants and commoners and peasants in their place. He will be a great king!”
“But not a good one,” Emily said.
Randor spat in disgust. “My grandfather tried to be everyone’s friend. He tried to give everyone what they wanted. And what happened? They took advantage of him! The nobles built armies, the commoners demanded power…by the time my father took the throne, the kingdom was on the verge of utter collapse. My father might not have been a good king, or a nice king, but he saved the kingdom and taught the nobles to mind their place.”
Not well enough, Emily thought. The nobles hadn’t waited for Alexis III’s body to cool in the grave before starting to plot against his son. They’d been plotting long before they’d realized how the New Learning weakened their positions as well as the king’s. And endless cycles of repression cannot be good for the country.
“You have a day to live, Lady Emily,” Randor told her. “And I suggest you spend it contemplating just how much damage you have done to my country–and how your death will fix it.”
It won’t, Emily thought. It will only make it worse.
She tried to meet Randor’s eyes. “Give up. The world has changed, Your Majesty. You cannot put the dragon back in the egg. Abdicate the throne, pass the crown to Alassa…end this civil war while you can and let…”
Randor spun around and slapped her, again. “I swore an oath that I would serve my kingdom faithfully,” he told her, as Emily reeled from the blow. “I can no more walk away from my throne than you can walk away from your magic. I will serve as monarch until the gods see fit to end my life. And if Alassa is an unsuitable heir, I cannot let her take the throne.”
Emily tried to say something, but he spoke over her. “You brought this nightmare to my country,” he said. “And your death will end it. Everyone will watch you die.”
Oh, Emily thought. And then…what happens next?
She shuddered as a thought occurred to her. Bait. She was bait. Randor might expect Jade to mount a rescue mission, perhaps hoping to cause trouble in the capital while Alassa built up her forces in Swanhaven. He might even expect Cat to mount a mission on his own, if he knew Cat had accompanied them. There was no way to be sure. But he might also expect the Levellers to do something…
And they’ll be walking right into a trap, Emily told herself, numbly. Randor would have thousands of troops on hand, each one armed with muskets…perhaps even cannons or the experimental repeating guns. The Levellers would be slaughtered. I have to get out of here.
She thought, fast, but nothing presented itself. She was tied up, she had no magic…she couldn’t even awaken the snake. And she was probably going to be tortured too. Randor probably didn’t want her to look too battered when she was marched to her execution, but he had a Healer. She’d look her best on her dying day. No matter how she worked the problem, she kept coming to the same conclusion. There was no way out.
“Goodbye, Lady Emily,” Randor said. His voice was very cold. “We won’t talk again.”
He opened the door and stepped through, leaving her alone.
Interlude Three: Nightingale
VISCOUNT SEJANUS NIGHTINGALE WOULD NEVER HAVE admitted it, not unless he was threatened with torture or worse, but he was terrified of the Royal Family. King Randor had always been dangerous, even before the attempted coup, yet Princess Alassa was almost worse. She had changed him into a toad as a joke, years ago; even as an adult, she made no bones about hating him. She’d even foiled Sejanus’s plan to marry his ward a few short months ago, ensuring he could not build an independent power base for himself. Sejanus had no illusions about his fate, when Alassa took the throne. It was why he’d encouraged Alassa’s father to suspect–and eventually imprison–his daughter.
He stayed on one knee as King Randor paced the throne room, his every movement promising blood and suffering for someone. The Crown Princess had escaped, making a bad situation worse. There were now two potential heirs to the crown running around, both outside Randor’s control. One or both of them might make a play for the throne–or be pressured into making a play for the throne–which would force them to kill the current occupant. Sejanus had no illusions about his fate if the Duke of Iron took the throne either. The man had always despised Sejanus…and his backers, the Noblest, hated him with an unrestrained passion. No, Sejanus’s very life depended on King Randor remaining firmly in control. He’d do anything to keep his monarch in power.
“She could be anywhere,” Randor growled, swinging around to look at the map. The king’s castles were supposed to be garrisoned, but one castle’s guards had already fallen victim to treachery. How many more were on the verge of falling? “And so could he!”
Sejanus bowed his head. “We could force Lady Emily to talk.”
Randor spat. “She doesn’t know. The portal spell was unbalanced. They could be anywhere by now.”
“Then they could be dead,” Sejanus pointed out. It was a shame. He would have enjoyed forcing Lady Emily to talk. “The portal could have spat them out in the Blighted Lands. Or the ocean or…”
The king rounded on him. “Do you think my child would die so easily?”
Sejanus didn’t look up. The king had never bothered to prepare Alassa to take the crown, not until it was almost too late. Now, the damage was done. Alassa wouldn’t wait patiently for her father to die before she inherited the crown. She’d try to take it. And so would the Duke of Iron and his backers. Neither of them had a choice. It was rare for a noblewoman to be executed, but Alassa was just too dangerous. Her head would be cut off as soon as she gave birth to the rightful heir.
Which will give me time to ingratiate myself with the boy, Sejanus thought. He dealt with the prospect of the child being a girl by ignoring it. And when the king dies, I will be ready.
“No, Your Majesty,” he said, firmly. Any child of Randor would be too tough to die in an accident. Besides, he hadn’t survived and prospered by taking things for granted. The princess was still alive, somewhere. “But it will take her time to build up an army. She does not have many supporters outside the capital.”
He lowered his voice. “Particularly if we behead one of her strongest supporters now, before she can be rescued,” he added. “The execution may even serve to lure Princess Alassa into a trap.”
The king glowered. “You would advise me to kill a baroness?”
Sejanus didn’t quite meet the king’s eyes. “There are no other options,” he said. He was fairly sure the decision had already been made. “Lady Emily is dangerous. And she cannot be contained for long.”
Randor lifted his eyebrows. “And the fact you don’t like her has nothing to do with your advice?”
“No, Your Majesty,” Sejanus lied. He hated, feared and resented Lady Emily. A slip of a girl who’d been given the kind of wealth and power he had devoted his life to acquiring, for nothing more than dumb luck. He had served his king faithfully for years and he was no closer to the sort of independent power he wanted–he needed–to leave as a legacy for his children. “She is just too dangerous to keep alive.”