It surprised Tristam how calmly she was taking this. Sure, he’d known that she wasn’t in love with him, but it still must hurt one’s pride, if nothing else, to learn that one’s betrothed already had feelings for someone else. “If you…find that you no longer wish to continue the negotiations, I can send word to—”
Cecile stopped him with a hand on his wrist, touching him in a way that was authoritative rather than flirtatious. “Do your feelings for Kyra change your family’s need for help against the Demon Riders?”
Tristam grimaced. “No. I suppose not.”
She withdrew her hand. “Nor does it change my family’s ambitions. I was raised in the court just as you were, and I know my duties. I believe you to be good and honorable. There’s no reason to believe another match for me would turn out better.” She met his eyes with a wry smile. “We’re both affected by things out of our control. But we make the best of it, don’t we?”
Her candor was refreshing, even if her words contained unpleasant truths. “You’re a better woman than I deserve, Cecile.”
She inclined her head, smiled, and did not contradict him. The door opened, and a servant announced the arrival of the courtier who would escort Cecile back to her quarters.
Tristam left dinner with Cecile’s words circling in his head. He found he respected her more after that frank exchange, though the open-eyed pragmatism of her words seemed sad. But she was right. The circumstances surrounding their marriage alliance remained unchanged.
Tristam was marginally successful in focusing his thoughts as he made his way to the Red Shield barracks, where a few quick inquiries led him to Fitz. The young man blinked when Tristam asked for a private word with him but agreed readily enough.
“I have a favor to ask,” said Tristam when they were out of earshot of the barracks. “It would help Malikel and Forge, but it’s of questionable legality.”
Fitz’s eyes widened. “Looking to get yourself demoted again, milord?”
Tristam thought back to his earlier conversations with Fitz and hoped that his impression of the Red Shield’s character and loyalties was accurate. “I have a prisoner who has information about Willem’s misdeeds. I need someone to guard him while I speak to the Council. If things go wrong, I’ll do my best to ensure any blame falls on me, but I can’t promise I’ll succeed.”
Fitz leaned back on his heels and considered Tristam’s words. “If it’ll help Sir Malikel, I’ll do my part.” Then he grinned. “What’s a soldier’s life without risk, right?”
Tristam took Robert back to Forge early the next morning and left him in Fitz’s care. Then he attended the Council meeting, carrying the message that he, Kyra, and Flick had confiscated from Robert. At the end of every Council meeting, the Head Councilman traditionally announced an opportunity for any citizen to raise an issue before the Council. It was an old law, and admirable in its designation of the Council as a government that listened to all. In practice though, because only a very special portion of the population was even allowed in the Palace compound, much less the Council Room, the definition of “any citizen” was much narrower than the wording suggested.
Nobody paid Tristam much mind as he slipped into the Council Room. Malikel had taken the stage to discuss preparations for the forest sweep. When the discussion ended, Willem gave the customary closing. “If any citizen of Forge would like to make a petition before the Council, he may take the stage now.”
It was now or never.
“I have a petition,” he said loudly, getting to his feet. He was painfully aware of the Council members swiveling their heads to look at him. Tristam walked up the aisle with as much dignity as he could muster. Willem looked at him with thinly veiled annoyance. “A petition, Tristam of Brancel?”
“Some information has come into my possession, and I would like to present it to the Council.”