Page 58 of The Sun King's Noon

The Summer Ball had well and truly ended in disaster.

The doors creaked, and one by one, the High Council drifted in. Lady Kestrel’s elaborate updo had crumpled on one side, pinsdangling. Lord Gregory helped adjust her voluminous skirts so she could sit. Lord Physic had cake splattered down his front, and Lord Warden Wycliffe bore the flush of one who’d drunk too much wine.

The generals sat in unison, faces set in tight grimaces. Dain lowered himself into his chair by them with a grunt. His face, too, was a closed fortress—jaw locked and eyes bloodshot. He had not spoken a word to Richard since the Bind had released.

Kaelen—still clad in his tattered tunic—helped Dianara into the chair at the other end of the table. They sank into it with a wince and rubbed their bandaged head. After squeezing Dianara’s shoulder, Kaelen sat by Dain. His eyes flicked towards Richard, soft and probing.

Richard returned his gaze to the window.

Last came Elara and Corwin. Richard tracked their reflections in the glass, his chest tightening. Elara’s hair had come undone from her bun, her every movement stiff as she sat. Corwin’s face was no less strained. Folding his arms, he stared at the table’s grain silently.

Richard’s temples throbbed. He twirled the parchment between his fingers. Around and around it went, the ink of his own words blurred beneath a dead witch’s blood.

‘A man looks into the eyes of the ones he’s wronged,’Haldric’s words echoed in his ears.

Richard set the parchment down.

“My lords and ladies.” His voice came out gravelly. “We have all had a shock this evening. I am grateful for your attendance at such a late hour. The first matter. Princess Penelope.”

Elara stiffened, her hands lacing tighter.

“I wrote the letter to King Marius, and him alone, two years ago,” Richard continued. “I doubt Marius is even aware of its disappearance. I suspect the letter was passed to the witch by Queen Octavia, for she knew it would expose Estara’s role in myparents’ murder. She knew Penelope would be standing in this hall when it happened. The princess was sent here to die.”

The generals’ faces hardened, seeming ready to fulfil Octavia’s wish.

“Regardless,” Richard said, “the princess and her delegation must return to Estara immediately. Word of tonight will spread. By morning, all in High Ardenia will know the truth, and Princess Penelope will no longer be safe within our borders.”

General Barlow barked an ugly laugh. “Safe? We should keep the girl as a hostage. Leverage against the Estarans. If their queen is in league with the witches and Galdran?—”

Every sconce in the council chamber erupted. Flame roared from the iron brackets, leaping high, the heat billowing across the table. Lords and ladies flinched. Elara stood, palms flat on the table and fire wreathing her arms.

“Try to hurt her. If you dare.”

Barlow huffed, his mouth snapping shut.

“Sister,” Richard said. “Sit.”

The flames shrank, guttering back into the sconces, and she sank into her chair without a word.

Richard nodded at Barlow. “It is a good thought. But hostages necessitate value—value Penelope clearly possesses little of to the king and queen of Estara. And she is innocent.”

He’d tested her almost two years ago when she arrived for a state dinner. Carefully, he’d steered the conversation towards Maranbog. Penelope had listened with sad eyes and curled a hesitant hand over his.“I’m so sorry, Your Majesty. I have lost family, too. It is the loneliest thing.”

He’d known then that Marius had buried his sin where his daughter would not find.

Richard tapped the letter. “You have heard what this contains. King Marius arranged the deaths of my parents by hiring trolls from the Sylari Realm. I investigated soon afterthe funerals, for I thought it odd for trolls—normally territorial creatures that minded their own affairs—to cross the southern border with such targeted bloodlust. Upon hunting the few trolls that had taken up residence in Maranbog, I interrogated them to learn the truth.”

He’d done the interrogations by himself, urging the generals and soldiers away.

“The Estaran King offered no coin,”one young troll had screamed, yellow eyes swimming with tears, blood dripping from the tusk Richard had torn off.“Only a plentiful supply of food should we kill those who bear a crown! And armoured weapons for us to wield! Please! Mercy! Mercy!”

Richard had granted it with a sweep of his sword.

“I chose to keep Marius’s crime from this council,” Richard said. “That matter is now before you, so we may well move on to?—”

Dain’s fist struck the table, sending goblets toppling aside.

“How.” The Lord Commander bit out, a muscle in his cheek twitching. “How could Your Majesty hide this from us?”