Thinblade (35 page)

Holding her in his arms seemed to drown out everything else in the world. With all he had to worry about, he simply couldn’t take his full and complete attention off of the woman he was dancing with. She captivated him in a way he didn’t even know was possible. Her simple presence made the world sweeter, more vibrant, and filled with possibilities that he’d never even considered before. He’d seen the way his parents looked at each other from time to time, but never truly understood the bottomless well of joy that that simple look represented. It seemed like such a profound thing to simply hold her in his arms and share a dance with her. He realized in that moment that he had fallen in love with Isabel. That realization changed nothing of his circumstances but changed everything about the way he saw the threat he faced, the world, and his place in it.

What a precious and fragile thing love was. It was so worthy of protecting, of nurturing and sheltering. He wondered how many others had discovered this miraculous feeling within themselves. All in a rush of renewed terror, it dawned on him that this was what was at stake. Love would be the ultimate casualty of Phane’s ambitions. The peace and security that every family in the Seven Isles depended on to survive and thrive was in jeopardy. And then, in a flash of stark horror, he imagined losing Isabel. The mere thought was agony itself. How many others would experience such unendurable pain if Phane prevailed?

The music stopped. Isabel’s bright smile faded and a look of worry overtook her face. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

Alexander pulled himself back from the darkness of what might be and anchored himself in the moment. He was still holding Isabel and looking down into her piercing green eyes. He shook his head slowly and let the joy of her presence back in with a smile. “Nothing. I just let the challenges ahead distract me for a moment.”

The dance floor was clearing as the minstrels took a break. Isabel put her hand on his cheek. “It’ll be all right, Alexander, you’ll see.” Then she smiled with mischief. “Come on,” she said, taking his hand and leading him to the bar.

One of the young bartenders saw them coming and put off another customer politely so he could serve the guest of honor. Isabel smiled at him familiarly. “Hi Aaron, we’d like two chocolate swirls.” He nodded and began to prepare two rather elaborate-looking concoctions involving warm cream, chocolate shavings, and some kind of syrupy liqueur. “These are my favorite,” Isabel said with excitement.

Alexander marveled at her enthusiasm for simple pleasures. She was essentially a princess, yet she was as giddy as a schoolgirl at the prospect of sharing a confection with him. When the drinks were served, Alexander was actually impressed. They were delivered in large silver goblets wrapped in white linen napkins to protect against the heat of the drink. The rich chocolatey-looking contents had a swirl of white in the foamy topping and a sprinkle of chocolate shavings just resting on the surface of the foam.

Isabel sipped at hers and moaned softly. Alexander thought to himself that he could be happy simply watching her enjoyment. Then he tried his and understood. It was sweet, smooth, creamy, and chocolatey with just a hint of bite from the liqueur and a spicy aftertaste that only left him wanting another sip. He smiled at Isabel in surprised delight.

She giggled in return, “Told you.”

They walked slowly back through the crowd toward the head table, nodding to a guest here and smiling to a guest there, when Rexius Truss stepped into their path. Alexander really didn’t want to talk to the self-important little man, but thought it would be unwise to snub him. Isabel’s hand tightened slightly on his arm.

“Your Majesty,” Truss bowed ever so slightly. “That was quite a harrowing tale we heard tonight. Your proxy certainly has a flair for the dramatic.” Isabel’s grip tightened a little more.

“Yes, he does have a way with words.” Alexander smiled agreeably. “I trust you are enjoying the generous hospitality of Lady Alaric.”

“Yes, quite. I was wondering if I might have the pleasure of a dance with Lady Isabel here.” His smile was almost as greasy as his slicked back hair. Isabel’s grip on his arm tightened further still.

Alexander leaned in so he could speak to Truss without being overheard. “I’m afraid that I managed to step on her foot and I think she would really like to sit down. We were just headed to our table. Perhaps another time,” Alexander said with a look of embarrassment.

Isabel feigned a slight limp, leaning on his arm as they started around the little noble, but he stepped in front of them again.

“I’m terribly sorry to hear that, Lady Isabel. I do hope Lord Alexander hasn’t seriously injured you.” His look of concern was almost believable. “I would be happy to have my personal physician look at it for you if you like.” He turned and waved to one of the men at his table.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, really, I just want to sit down.” Isabel took another step to skirt Truss but he intervened again.

Before he could say anything more, Jack appeared from out of the crowd. “Duke Truss, I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time. I understand your vineyards are responsible for this vintage.” He swirled the wine in his crystal goblet. “It has a most delightful character.”

Truss turned to Jack with a much more genuine smile. “Ah, yes, this is one of the signature blends of my family estates.” When he turned back Isabel and Alexander were nearly to the head table. Jack cleared his throat to draw him back into conversation. Truss indulged him for several minutes before returning to his table and his entourage with a somewhat sullen look.

Isabel laughed quietly to Alexander when they reached the head table. “You’re my hero,” she said, taking her seat. “Truss just won’t take no for an answer.”

“I’m sure he’ll get the hint sooner or later.”

Alexander scanned the banquet hall. Most of the guests were mingling amongst the tables or near the bar. Hanlon and Anatoly were telling stories of their time together in the border wars to an audience of half a dozen young men including Erik. Abigail was talking quietly with the attractive young woman who had accompanied Erik to the banquet. Jack was moving through the crowd from one talking circle to the next, and Lucky had dragged the chef from the kitchen, sat him down at a table, and was busy extracting recipes from him.

Alexander was about to suggest that he and Isabel take a walk on the ramparts when a group of three nobles, including Truss, approached and planted themselves across the table from him.

“Ah, Your Majesty, may I present Duke Covington and Duke Shivley,” Truss said, looking down at Alexander past his sharp little nose.

“Pleasure to meet you, gentlemen.” Alexander didn’t stand. He really wasn’t in the mood for politics. “Chase must be your son,” he said to Duke Covington.

Duke Covington drew himself up proudly. “He is indeed.”

“He’s a good man. You have reason to be proud,” Alexander said.

Covington beamed at the praise for his son. “You are very kind to say so, Your Majesty. We don’t mean to trouble you this evening but we thought you should be aware that there are still some significant issues to be worked out at council before we can agree to support your claim to the throne.”

Alexander felt his mood fall and his anger start to rise, but he kept his voice civil if not somewhat cold. “Really? What issues might those be?”

Truss jumped in before Covington could continue. “You must understand our lands and holdings have been in our families for many generations. We have a duty to our progeny to preserve our estates. We simply seek some assurances that our property will not be taken without fair compensation.”

Alexander mused for a moment before replying. “Your lands are indeed yours, as the Old Law says. However, you must understand,” he paused and looked hard at each in turn with his gold-flecked eyes, “the Seven Isles are about to be consumed by war. As I said at council, you have a choice to make. Side with me and lend what support you can to preserve the Old Law or side with Phane.”

Truss tried unsuccessfully to smile. “There are those who would choose to abstain from the war you speak of. After all, we have much to lose and little to gain by such sacrifice.” He spoke in such reasonable tones.

Alexander schooled his emotions while hot anger rose in his chest. He held Truss with his gaze, anger glittering in his golden-brown eyes. The other conversations at the table had fallen silent and all eyes were on him. When he spoke, he did not raise his voice but instead spoke with deliberate calm.

“My brother is dead. My home burned to the ground and my parents may be lost to me as well. Do not speak to me of sacrifice.” Truss recoiled half a step and tried to back pedal but Alexander cut him off. “There will be no middle ground. For two thousand years, Glen Morillian has enjoyed the protection of the barrier mountains created by Mage Cedric. This place was created to lend support to my cause. You swore an oath to support my cause when you were granted title to your estate. If you choose to abstain from this war, then I will count you with Phane.” Everyone at the table held their breath. Truss opened and closed his mouth like a fish searching for a response to the hard choice that had been placed before him. Shivley and Covington went pale and shifted ever so slightly away from Truss.

“That is hardly fair and certainly does nothing to respect the Old Law you claim to revere.” Truss seemed to gain confidence as he spoke. “Our property is ours alone; you have no right to take it from us.”

“I have no intention of taking your property. I expect you to offer what support you can to your king.” Alexander tried to sound calm yet confident, both to establish his authority with the nobles and with the crowd of people who were gathering to watch the exchange.

Truss turned slightly crimson as his anger boiled over. “You are not our king unless and until we say you are.” His arrogance was insufferable. “The council of Glen Morillian has yet to recognize you and without the Thinblade, you have no legitimate claim to the throne. You have no right to demand anything from anyone.”

The room fell deadly silent. Every guest in the banquet hall turned to watch Truss rail against Alexander’s claim to power. Alexander regarded the petty little noble through glittering gold-flecked eyes for a moment while he calmly considered his options.

He stood slowly and pulled his collar aside so all in the hall could see the mark burned into the side of his neck. It was Jack who bailed him out of the tense confrontation. Standing in the very front of the gathered crowd of guests the smooth-tongued bard deliberately went to one knee and bowed to Alexander. There was a moment of hesitation, then, like a wave emanating from Jack Colton, the assembled guests all went to a knee and bowed their heads in fealty.

Alexander smiled at the little noble ever so slightly and motioned past him with his chin. The three nobles standing before him turned as one. Truss squeaked slightly and jumped at the sight of the entire hall bowing to Alexander. His head snapped back around to find Covington and Shivley on bended knee as well. He looked from side to side searching for support from any quarter, but found none. Shaking with rage, Duke Truss turned and fled.

“Rise,” Alexander commanded in a clear voice. “Honored guests, I trust you will forgive the interruption. Please enjoy the evening. Lady Alaric has gone to such trouble to make this night memorable. I would hate to see her efforts wasted over a simple disagreement.”

Alexander found Jack in the crowd and gave him a nod of thanks before addressing the remaining two nobles still standing in front of him. “Gentlemen, I trust this matter will be settled at council tomorrow morning.” It was not a question.

Duke Covington actually smiled. “I assure you it will be, Your Majesty.” He and Shivley bowed gracefully and melted back into the throng of guests.

Isabel leaned in and whispered in his ear. “That was magnificent.” He felt a little thrill race up his spine at the feel of her warm breath on his neck.

“I’m glad you liked it,” he whispered, looking toward the door Truss had left through. “I hope he comes around.” Alexander was worried that Truss might yet prove to be trouble.

Isabel laughed. “After that, he’ll have no choice. His supporters on the council will abandon him. By lunchtime tomorrow he’ll be a laughing stock everywhere in Glen Morillian.” She shook her head. “I doubt he’ll even show for council tomorrow.”

Alexander was still worried. He hoped the self-important little man wasn’t fool enough to throw his lot in with Phane.

Hanlon and Anatoly stepped up to him. “Looks like you carried the day, Alexander,” Hanlon said with a chuckle.

“I must say, Jack certainly surprised me today,” Anatoly added, looking out over the crowd at the bard.

Alexander nodded with a smile, “He definitely has his strengths.”

Alexander spent the rest of the evening with Isabel on his arm, chatting with his guests. He listened politely while people of all walks of life explained their trades and offered their services in the coming struggle. They all seemed to have a romantic view of what lay ahead and Alexander didn’t have the heart to shatter that vision. He knew that the future held death and hardship but he needed these people. He needed what they had to offer and so he listened politely and offered his gratitude for their support. Most were nervous speaking to him and puffed up with pride when he acknowledged the value of their promised contribution. He spoke at more length with a few of the ranchers simply because he understood their business and could talk to them in terms they were familiar with. They were especially proud that their new king understood and valued their trade so well.