At this, the thanes around the table pushed to their feet, many of them with their hands on their swords. It was a vicious move, even for Montaigne.
“And yes,” Montaigne said, “that includes the ladies who have just left the hall.”
The doors to the dining room swung open, and blackbirds flooded into the room, most of them collared mages. They took up positions all around the perimeter.
“Do note that I don’t expect you to carry the entire weight of this new effort. I have initiatives underway that should provide some relief from the demands of this war, in terms of levies of money and men. I just ask for a little . . . forbearance.”
If I killed the bastard now, Ash thought, none of these lords would lift a finger to stop me. But then they’d turn around and execute me, because, you know, precedent.
He’d have to wait a little longer. Since he’d met Jenna, it had become increasingly important to survive.
“Now,” Montaigne said. “I would ask you to remain in your city houses until the end of the month. By then, I should have some good news for all of you. You may go—all except Lord Matelon, who will remain here as our guest during our inquiry.”
By then, the thane and his men-at-arms were nearly at the door. He turned to face the king. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, I decline.” He turned, a blade in each hand, and cut the throats of the blackbirds nearest to him. His men formed a circle around their lord, prickling with swords. They drove a wedge through the King’s Guard and out the door.
The banquet was, for all intents and purposes, over. The king hurried from the room, insulated by a crowd of guards, while Ash accompanied the queen back to her quarters.
Ash’s skin prickled with a growing unease. The fall of Delphi and a possible civil war might be good news for the Fells, but it would make Ash’s job that much harder. An embattled king would be harder to get at than before. Prisoners didn’t usually fare well within a kingdom in chaos. And the rebellion of the thanes would make a potential deal with the empress of Carthis more appealing than ever.
34
THE EMISSARY
When Ash arrived at the king’s Small Hall for the meeting with Strangward, the room was already crowded. Pettyman, the king’s steward; Jerome, his new taster; and far too many blackbird mages were already on hand.
The hall was a smaller, more intimate version of the throne room, adjacent to the king’s privy chamber. Montaigne even had a throne of sorts, an elaborate chair on a raised dais, so he could look down on those around him.
Pettyman knew how to find that sweet spot where hospitality and politics met. He’d refreshed the Solstice greenery around the mantel and doorways, and laid a modest display of food and drink out on the sideboard. Jerome was in the process of tasting it under the watchful eyes of Fleury and Marc DeJardin.
It was a waste of time. Ash knew by now that the king wouldn’t touch it anyway. Montaigne had always been paranoid, but he’d grown worse after the assassination attempts. His personal guard searched his bedchamber each night before he locked the door. No morsel passed his lips without being trialed on the taster—multiple times. He constantly complained of headaches, tremors, and rashes, but refused Ash’s offers of help.
Could the king’s symptoms be a signal that Ash’s plan was working? He didn’t know. It would help if he knew whether the king was using “white magic,” but he didn’t want to draw attention to the living silver by asking about it.
Ash and Jerome were spending lots of time together these days. Ash had become the equivalent of the king’s magical taster—assigned to keep a constant eye out for magical threats, scrutinize visitors, and be ready to leap into action in the event of sudden illness or another attempt on the king’s life.
Ash would have been more than happy to allow any rival assassin to do the honors, but it hadn’t happened yet. With the arrival of the emissary, he knew that time was running out—for Jenna, anyway. A handful of people would be coming together with the Carthian delegation to decide Jenna’s fate like brokers at a slave auction.
Ash took a deep breath, forced himself to unclench his fists, to loosen his muscles, to lean against the wall as if he had nothing to lose. He hadn’t survived this long by being stupid.
Speaking of the slave trade, Lila and Destin Karn arrived together—of course. Ash fingered the collar around his neck. Since the delivery of the crates of flashcraft, Ash’s last illusions about Lila had disappeared. Lila would go anywhere and do whatever it took in order to make some coin. If she thought she was going to take him back to the Fells and collect a reward, she was in for disappointment.