GOING HOME
Archibald Ballentyne stared out the window of the great hall. It looked cold. Brown grass, blowing dead leaves, clouds that looked heavy and full of snow, and geese that flew away before a veil of gray all reminded him the seasons had changed. Wintertide was less than two months away. He kicked the stone of the wall with his boot. It made a muffled thud and sent a pain up his leg, making him wince.
Why do I have to think of that? Why do I always have to think of that?
Behind him, Saldur, Ethelred, and Biddings debated something, but he was not listening. He did not care anymore. Maybe he should leave. Maybe he should take a small retinue and just go home to Chadwick and the sanctity of his Gray Tower. The palace would be a wreck by now, and he could busy himself with repairing the damage the servants had caused in his absence. Bruce had likely been dipping into his brandy store and the tax collectors would be behind in their duties. It would feel nice to be home for the holiday. He could invite a few friends and his sister over for—He stopped and considered kicking the wall again, but it had hurt enough last time.
Sleeping in a tent this time of year would be miserable. Besides, what would the regents say? Moreover, what would they do in his absence? They treated him badly enough when he was here. How much worse would they conspire against him if he left?
He did not really want to be home. Ballentyne Castle could be a lonely place, all the more horrid in winter. He used to dream of how all that would change when he married, when he had a beautiful wife and children. He used to fantasize about Alenda Lanaklin. She was a pretty thing. He also often imagined taking the hand of King Armand’s daughter, Princess Beatrice. She was certainly appealing. He had even spent many a summer evening watching the milkmaids in the field and contemplating the possibility of snatching one from her lowly existence to be the new Lady Ballentyne. How grateful she would be, how dutiful, how easily controlled. That had been before he had come to Aquesta—before he had met her.
Even sleep gave him no solace, as he dreamed about Modina now. He danced with her on their own wedding day. He despised waking up. Archibald did not even care about the title anymore. He would give up the idea of being emperor if he could have her. He even considered that he would give up being earl—but she was marrying Ethelred!
He refused to look at the regent. The fool cared nothing for her. How could he be so cold as to force a girl to marry him just for the political benefit? The man was a blackguard.
“Archie … Archie!” Ethelred was calling him.
He cringed at the mention of the name he hated and turned from the window with a scowl.
“Archie, you need to talk to your man Breckton.”
“What’s wrong with him now?”
“He’s refusing to take my orders. He insists he serves only you. You need to set him straight on the lay of things. We can’t have knights whose allegiance is strictly to their lords. They have to recognize the supremacy of the New Empire and the chain of command.”
“Seems to me that’s what he’s doing, observing the chain of command.”
“Yes, yes, but it’s more than that. He’s becoming obstinate. I’m going to be the emperor in a couple of months and I can’t have my best general requiring that I get your permission to give him an order.”
“I’ll speak with him,” Archibald said miserably, mostly just so he could stop listening to Ethelred’s voice. If the old bastard were not such an accomplished soldier, he would seriously consider challenging him, but Ethelred had fought in dozens of battles, while Archibald had engaged only in practice duels with blunt-tipped swords. Even if he wanted to commit suicide, he certainly would not give Ethelred the satisfaction.
“What about Modina?” Ethelred asked.
The mention of her name brought Archibald’s attention back to the conversation.
“Will she be ready?”
“Yes, I think so,” Saldur replied. “Amilia has been doing wonders with her.”
“Amilia?” Ethelred tapped his forehead. “Isn’t she the maid you promoted to Chief Imperial Secretary?”
“Yes,” Saldur said, “and I’ve been thinking that after the wedding, I want to keep her on.”
“We’ll have no use for her after the wedding.”
“I know, but I think I could use her elsewhere. She’s proven herself to be both intelligent and resourceful.”
“Do whatever you like with her. I certainly don’t—”
“Queens always have need of secretaries, even when they have husbands,” Archibald interrupted. “I understand you’re going to assume total control of the New Empire, but she’ll still need an assistant.”
Ethelred looked at Saldur with a puzzled expression. “He doesn’t know?”
“Know what?” Archibald asked.