I was hung on what Liam had said—when he was held under Allenach’s House?—but the conversation kept moving.
“We forge an invitation,” Jourdain said, linking his fingers. “We pay the hefty sum. We send one of our men into Damhan. He partakes in the hunt; he recovers the stone.”
“Father,” I interrupted, as pleasantly as I could. “I need to be the one to recover the stone.”
“Amadine, I am not sending you to Maevana.”
“Jourdain,” Yseult said, also as pleasantly as she could. “The stone is Amadine’s to find and reclaim. None of us will be able to locate the tree as swiftly as she can.”
“But we cannot send Amadine to the hunt,” Luc protested. “These are Valenian men who are invited, not women. She would undoubtedly raise suspicions.”
“One of you men will go to partake in the hunt,” I said. “I shall arrive after you.”
“How?” Jourdain responded, a bit sharply. But I saw the fear haunting his eyes when he looked at me.
“I want you to hear this with an open mind,” I said, my mouth going dry. I was nervous to share my scheme, which I was spinning as the evening deepened. This was not one of Abree’s lighthearted plays; I was not plotting a way out of a dungeon. I was conspiring against a king; multiple lives were about to be involved and put at risk.
With an ache in my stomach, I remembered that old skit of mine, the one where every character perished save for one. But I felt Yseult close at my side, knowing the queen was my ally. And Jean David had set down a small purse of cheques by the map, which would help me illustrate my plans with pawns.
I opened the purse and took out the first pawn, inevitably thinking of Merei and all the evenings we had played each other in cheques and marques. You never protect your side, Bri. It’s your one true weakness, she had once said to me. She only defeated me when she took me by surprise, when she made the oblique move—distracting me with one obvious, powerful pawn and championing me with a stealthier, lesser pawn.
Drawing in a deep breath, I took my obsidian pawn and set it on Damhan.
“One of our men goes to Damhan as a Valenian noble, under the pretense of enjoying the hunt.” I took the next pawn, carved from blue marble. “I arrive to Lyonesse, as a Valenian noblewoman. I go directly to the royal hall, to make a request to King Lannon.” I set my pawn down on Lyonesse, the royal city. “I ask the king to pardon MacQuinn and grant him admittance to the country, that my patron father would like to return to the land of his birth and pay the penance for his past rebellion.”
Luc sat back in his chair, as if his stomach had melted down to the floor. Yseult didn’t move, didn’t even blink as she stared at my pawn. But Jourdain’s hand curled in a fist and I heard him draw in a long, conflicted breath.
“Daughter,” he growled. “We have already discussed this. Asking for a pardon will not work.”
“We discussed what would happen if you asked for the pardon, not me.” Our gazes locked—his was that of a father who knew his daughter was about to defy him. My fingers still held to my pawn, and I looked back to the map. “I make a request before a royal hearing, before the soon-to-be-dethroned king. I speak the name MacQuinn, a name that has haunted Lannon for twenty-five years. I make it known that I am his passion daughter, under MacQuinn’s protection. Lannon will be so fixated on MacQuinn’s return that he will not see the Kavanaghs sneak over his border.” I took a red pawn, which represented Yseult and her father, and moved them over the channel, into Maevana, into Lyonesse.
“An oblique move,” Yseult said with a hint of a smile. So she had played cheques and marques before, and she recognized my bold, risky strategy.
“Yes,” I agreed. “It will raise Lannon’s suspicions, but he will not think we are so foolish to announce our presence before a revolt. We play into his beliefs.”
“But how does that get you to Damhan, sister?” Luc gently asked, his face pale.
I looked to Liam. The next phase of my plans was contingent on whatever the thane could tell me. “If I am making a request in the royal hall, would Lord Allenach be present?”
Liam’s salt-and-pepper eyebrows rose, but he finally understood where my plans were heading. “Yes. Lord Allenach is Lannon’s councillor. He stands to the left of the throne, hears everything the king hears. Royal hearings take place every Thursday.”
“So I arrive on Thursday,” I said, daring to look at Jourdain. He was all but glaring at me. “I speak your name before the king and before Lord Allenach. Lord Allenach will be unable to resist offering me sanctuary while I wait for you to cross the channel, since the two of you are archenemies. The lord takes me to Damhan.” I slid my pawn to where the castle sat on the edge of the forest, next to the black pawn. “I recover the stone. MacQuinn and Luc,” I said and drew forth a purple pawn, moving it over the water, into Maevana, “cross the channel and arrive to Lyonesse. We are all in Maevana at this point, ready to storm the castle.”
“And what if Lannon kills you on the spot, Amadine?” my patron father demanded. “Because as soon as my name flies from your mouth, he will want to behead you.”
“I think what Amadine says is truth, my lord,” Liam cautiously spoke up. “She is right when she says that Lord Allenach—who has overtaken your House and your people—will want to host her until you arrive. And while Lannon is paranoid these days, he does not kill unless Allenach blesses it.”
“So we are gambling on Allenach having a gracious day?” Luc spurted.
“We are gambling on the fact that Lannon and Allenach will be so absorbed with MacQuinn’s reckless return that they will never see the Kavanaghs and Morgane coming,” I said, trying to keep the heat from rising in my voice.
“There is another advantage to this,” Hector Laurent spoke, his eyes on the pawns I had arranged. “If Amadine announces MacQuinn’s name at court, his return will spread like wildfire. And we need our people to be alert, to rise at a moment’s notice.”
“Yes, my lord,” Liam agreed with a nod. “And your Houses have been scattered for twenty-five years. Allenach took MacQuinn’s House, Burke took Morgane’s, and Lannon, of course, took Kavanagh’s. Your lands have been divided, your men and women dispersed. But if they so much as hear the name of MacQuinn spoken again . . . it would be the spark to a dry pasture.”
My patron father groaned, knowing this was a very good argument in favor of my plan. He covered his face and leaned back, as if the last thing he wanted to do was acknowledge this. But he did not have the final say. The queen did.
“Once we have all returned home,” Hector Laurent spoke up, his eyes fastened to something on the map. “We gather our people and converge at Mistwood. We storm the castle from there.”