Page 5 of The Sun King's Noon

“As you are all aware,” Byrom said, “we are awaiting Lord Vagor’s spies to return from Estara with information on the First Creature—the eight-legged siren on an Estaran island. I had hoped that we might question the Estaran delegation further at the ball, but it seems they hold no interest in attending.”

“Let the Estarans be,” Lady Treasurer Kestrel scoffed. “Your Majesty, when their envoys visited last year, they refused to rise when you entered the room.”

“We cannot afford to alienate the east,” General Barlow—a burly, ginger-bearded man—snapped. “Not when our western border will become a bleeding wound.”

“And we cannot afford to court a tyrant,” Lord Physic cut in, eyes flashing. “The burnings, if the whispers are true, are now weekly. Prisoners—sometimes only servants who misspoke—paraded through the town square in oil and burned upon a pyre.”

Richard’s jaw tightened. He could hear his father’s booming voice in the back of his mind, “Alliances are forged by necessity, boy, not with affection!”And yet, he could also hear his mother’s firm words,“Necessity, my son, does not absolve you of what you permit.”

General Sarn—a short, moustached man with arms like tree trunks—grunted. “Their traditions are their own. Let us not judge from a higher vantage point. We need their armies.”

That led the Lady Treasurer to retort that cruelty was a sickness that spreads, and then more generals and the Lords of Housing and Physic joined in the fray. Soon, the entire table was yelling.

The throbbing in Richard’s temples intensified. “Enough.”

But the din continued. Lord Malgrin declaring that surely a marriage would mend the rift, Elara snapping about how not all the Estaran royal family were cruel, and Lord Warden boasting about how he did not burn his prisoners.

“We must—” On instinct, Richard glanced towards the space Dain usually occupied, half expecting the man’s broad hand to slam down and his deep bellow to silence the room. But the Lord Commander was absent, dealing with Richard’s request to investigate the blind man from earlier.

Lord Malgrin raised his voice. “Estara’s customs are not our concern. Our concern is survival, and survival requires?—”

“Silence!”

The command cracked through the clamour like a whip. Immediately, all faces turned to Kaelen, who stood tall, his brows drawn into a glare.

“The King is speaking,” Kaelen said. “And, my lords and ladies, you would all do well to listen.”

Fists clenched along the table, and Lord Malgrin rose to his feet, nostrils flaring.

“How dare you?” he hissed. “How dare a boy address the High Council as though you are our equal? We tolerate your presence here only because you are the Lord Commander’s son.”

Lady General Ivelle bristled. “Watch your tongue, Lord Chancellor. Sir Kaelen is Deputy Captain of the Crownsguard. Second only to the border generals and the Lord Commander.”

Malgrin’s lip curled. “Perhaps he forgets his place because he has already meddled in matters beyond his station. Do all here not recall his part in Estara’s hostility? That it was he who punched Prince Alaric and led to the broken betrothal.”

Richard fought back a chuckle. The swollen bruise decorating Alaric’s cheekhadbeen impressive. Almost, he thought with a rush of tenderness, as impressive as the squire who’d inflicted it.

“He began to speak filth about the crown prince.”Kaelen had stated in front of the court, his hands in manacles.“So, I punched him.”

Kaelen set his jaw in the same manner now. “I remember my place, Lord Chancellor. It is at my king’s side. Seven years ago, I struck Prince Alaric for good reason, and I would do so again.”

Malgrin spluttered, “You arrogant?—”

“And if King Marius burns prisoners in oil”—a disgusted grimace tugged at Kaelen’s lips—“if the tales of his cruelties aretrue, then he is no ally worth begging to. We are not so weak-hearted that we should ignore our virtues to kiss blood from a tyrant’s hand.”

General Barlow’s chair creaked as he leaned back, arms folded. He looked upon Kaelen with clear disdain. “You talk, boy, as if your purity will fortify a border when monsters come through. How would you answer a grieving mother? Will you say we couldn’t protect her children because you were particular about where surplus soldiers came from?”

Kaelen faltered, a flush rising up his neck. “I only mean?—”

“Barlow’s right, Captain,” General Sarn rumbled. “A commander may hate a tool and still use it. Don’t get soft now.”

“But would you have our soldiers stand alongside Estarans who tortured and killed innocents?” Kaelen glowered at Barlow and Sarn. “We’d be no better than them.”

His voice held the grand, earnest cadence he used when swearing oaths. But cold settled in Richard’s stomach on seeing the councillors’ embittered faces. Kaelen did not, he was certain, mean to humiliate him so, but the knight’s words were a barb rather than a balm.

It was one thing when Dain called Malgrin insults and yelled at the generals. Dain was a monument, a relic of Haldric’s reign, a legend even in foreign courts. Dain’s authority propped Richard up like a pillar. But Kaelen was too young, not as accomplished, and he hadn’t yet earned the right to silence and argue with Richard’s High Council. They now saw only a boy speaking up for a king who allowed such impertinence.

Richard’s fingers tightened around the arm of his chair. It was a dangerous precedent to set.