‘Oh, Saint Vigga-whose-shit-plugs-privies,’ Brasti swore. ‘Not this again!’
‘Yes, this again,’ Antrim said, striding down the hall towards us. I was surprised to see he still wore the gold circles on his collar denoting his rank as leader of the Aramor Guards.
‘Of course,’ Brasti said, frowning. ‘Falcio tries to kill a King and gets asked to lead his army, and Antrim lets enemy soldiers into the castle and somehow keeps his job as Captain of the Guards. I wish someone would have told me that all I needed to do to advance my career was screw up incredibly badly.’
Antrim ignored him, focusing his ire on me. ‘The King, in what I think we’ll have to refer to as “his infinite mercy”, decided I wasn’t to blame. Don’t make me look like a fool again, Falcio.’
‘Relax, Antrim,’ Brasti said. ‘Kest and I will keep an eye on him.’
‘You two arseholes are staying outside.’ He signalled to the two guards, who finally opened the door, but before I could walk past, Antrim said, very quietly, ‘The fate of my homeland rests on your shoulders, Falcio. No more mistakes. No more losing your temper. Next time you endanger the King, it’ll be me you’ll face in the duelling circle.’
I was fairly certain that was the first time Antrim Thomas had ever threatened anyone in his life.
*
I found Filian standing over a map unfurled on a large oval table littered with coloured wooden shapes apparently representing different military divisions. Trin was standing on one side and, more surprisingly, Valiana was on the other. That she was able to look so remarkably calm and demure in the presence of the woman who had tried to kill her even more times than she’d tried to kill me was a testament to Valiana’s remarkable self-control.
‘Ah, Falcio, good,’ the King said as I entered the room. He waved a piece of parchment in his hand. ‘I’m afraid that the Duchess has been putting forward a number of entirely convincing arguments as to why I should issue a warrant for your arrest on charges of treason. I thought perhaps you might help me dissuade her.’
I hadn’t been expecting a parade, exactly, but I had hoped that perhaps agreeing to throw away my life – not to mention the lives of a couple of thousand people I liked quite a bit better than our new King and his charming Consort – would keep me out of gaol for a little longer.
‘Perhaps Duchess Tarindelle could be a little more specific,’ I said, watching Trin. ‘I’ve committed rather a lot of treason lately.’
She offered up her usual knowing smile, along with a slight shake of her head.
‘Wrong Duchess,’ Filian explained.
I turned to Valiana. ‘You? You want the King to name me traitor?’
‘It’s not what you think, Falcio,’ she said quickly. ‘The idea is to—’
‘It’s insurance,’ Filian said, looking none too pleased by the idea himself. ‘Valiana believes I shouldn’t be present at the battle.’
‘You see what happens?’ Trin asked whimsically. ‘Give a woman the Duchy of Rijou and all of a sudden she becomes as corrupt as our father.’
The urge to reach for my rapier was cut off by the sudden rage on Valiana’s face. Apparently I wasn’t the only one in danger of being goaded to rash acts of violence. A second later, Valiana mastered herself. ‘Falcio, if you’ll just let me explain—’
‘You want to give the King a second chance at peace with Avares,’ I said, already working through Valiana’s reasoning. ‘If our bid to impress the Avareans with our rokhan fails, they’ll massacre half the country in retaliation. But if the attack comes not from the ruler of the country but from a treasonous rebel . . .’
Valiana smiled. ‘Exactly. The King could claim you led the rebellion against his wishes. It’s a long shot, but if there’s even a remote possibility that this will open the door for a better treaty with the Avareans . . .’
She was right: the odds were slim, but slim odds were better than none. And what was even better, the Magdan would love it: Morn gets control of the country without having to fulfil any Avarean obligation to destroy those who dare to resist without showing true rokhan, while I die a traitor to my own homeland. It was a depressingly brilliant ploy.
‘You should sign it, your Majesty,’ I said at last.
He hesitated for a moment, but then, looking older than his fifteen years, took the pen Valiana was proffering, dipped it in the inkwell and signed the decree. ‘So begins my reign, with an act of ignominy and cowardice, one that my father would never even have considered.’
‘Oh, he would have,’ I said, thinking of the day King Paelis had ordered me to stand the Greatcoats down and sign the infamous concord that declared our order disbanded. ‘He’d do whatever it took to keep people safe.’
Filian rolled up the parchment and sealed it with wax. ‘It’s done. Congratulations, Falcio, you’re now the unlawful leader of a rebel army – none of whom realise that you’ve all been declared traitors to Tristia and its people.’ He sounded very young as he asked, ‘Can you save us?’
There was no point in hiding the truth from him, or from myself. ‘Not a chance. The Avareans were dangerous even when they fought with badly made bronze swords and spears. Now they have cannon and weapons of Shan steel. Even if every single one of the Dukes rallied to us, we’d still have no hope against the Avarean horde.’
Filian took in a slow breath, visibly trying to summon his courage. ‘I suppose I can hardly blame the Dukes for seceding then, can I?’ he said at last. ‘Not if they buy their own people a few more years of freedom.’
‘Do not give up hope quite yet, your Majesty,’ Valiana said gently.
He turned to her. ‘Hope, my Lady?’ He gestured to the coloured blocks of wood arrayed on the map on the table. ‘What cause do you see here for hope?’
Valiana met my eyes, and in her smile I saw the warmth that had been absent for far too long. ‘Where our people have always found it, your Majesty, in tales told by the fireside of a sharp blade wielded by a quick hand and guided by a brave and foolish heart, of friends fighting together no matter the odds.’
‘Stories?’ Trin said, turning the word into something small and petty. ‘You really should have paid more attention to Mother’s lectures on the art of warfare.’
‘She wasn’t my mother,’ Valiana replied, refusing to take the bait.
Filian flicked one of the wooden pieces on the map, tipping it over. ‘So we wager the future of the country on the hope that by, in effect, sacrificing themselves to the horde, Falcio and the others will tell such a tale of valour that our enemy’s admiration will get us better terms in defeat. Yes? That’s it?’ He looked up at me. ‘Do you really believe in all this Avarean nonsense about honour and rokhan, Falcio?’