For a long time no one spoke. Keziah knew they were watching her, as if waiting for her to weep, or run from the room, or berate the king. But she merely sat, staring at her hands, her face crimson and her heart aching as if from a dagger’s blow.
“That’s rubbish,” Gershon finally said, sounding angry, just as all of them would have expected. It seemed strange that with Paegar gone, the swordmaster, who had hated the Qirsi all his life and had hated her most of all for sharing a bed with Kearney, should become her closest confidant in the castle. Even stranger, he best served their growing alliance by continuing to treat her with disdain and hostility, just as he always had. “We saved this kingdom-the king did really-and everyone in Eibithar knows it except Aindreas and you. Just because you’d rather be back in Glyndwr doesn’t mean the rest of us feel the same way.”
“I said that’s enough!” Kearney broke in again. “It doesn’t matter anymore what any of us wishes had happened. I am king, and I’ll do everything I deem necessary to hold this kingdom together. So, assuming for just a moment that Marston isn’t trying to broker an agreement between Aindreas and Javan, that some darker purpose lies behind these journeys he’s making, what should we do?”
“Tobbar is still alive,” Wenda said. “He may be ill, but he still speaks for the House of Thorald. Perhaps we should send a message to him. He may not even know what his son is doing, in which case maybe he can get Marston to stop.”
“And if he does know?” the king asked.
The high minister hesitated, though only for a moment. “Then I’m afraid the archminister is right. There’s nothing more we can do. If Thorald is intent on opposing us, we can only hope that the armies of Curgh and Glyndwr, when combined with the King’s Guard, will be enough to hold off the other major houses.”
Kearney shook his head. “I won’t accept that. There have to be alternatives. I will not allow Marston’s betrayal-if that is in fact what he has in mind-to destroy the kingdom.”
“Your resolve is admirable, Your Majesty,” Dyre said cautiously. “But it would be… dangerous not to prepare ourselves for the worst. It may not be a fight we want, but it is one in which we can prevail, provided that we ready the army.”
“Yes, fine,” the king said, sounding impatient. “Gershon, you’ll continue to work the men, even through the snows. Do whatever you feel is needed to keep them battle-ready.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
“Wenda,” Kearney went on, turning to the high minister, “I want you to draft a message to Tobbar, informing him that we’re aware of Marston’s activities and asking him if Shanstead is making these overtures on his behalf.”
She glanced uneasily at Keziah. Usually Kearney would have had his archminister write such a message. “Yes, Your Majesty,” the older woman said. If she took any pleasure in Keziah’s fall from the king’s grace, she showed no sign of it. Rather, she appeared uncomfortable.
Yet, Kearney wasn’t finished with her. “When you’re done,” he said, “bring the message to me. Then meet with the rest of the underministers and come up with a better answer to my last question. There have to be other ways to combat any betrayal by Thorald than just sending my army north. Now go.”
The high minister stood and bowed to him. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
The other ministers stood as well and started toward the door, Keziah among them.
“Be quick about it, High Minister,” Kearney called to her. “We may not have much time.” Then, “Archmimster, I’d like you to remain for a moment.”
Keziah halted in midstride, her face coloring again. The other Qirsi looked at her briefly, then left.
“You’d better go as well, Gershon,” the king said.
Keziah hadn’t turned to look at Kearney or the swordmaster, but she could imagine Gershon’s nod, the grave expression on his blunt features as he said, “Yes, Your Majesty.”
The swordmaster brushed past her on his way to the door, but, of course, kept his silence.
“Please sit,” Kearney said, his voice colder than she had ever heard it when they were alone.
She would have given anything to avoid this conversation, but she realized that by asking her to remain, the king had done more to help her than he could ever know. This was not the time to weaken.
The minister turned and walked slowly back to her chair, eyeing the king as she did, and trying her best to look insolent.
“Yes, Your Majesty?” she asked, her voice flat as she dropped herself into the seat.
“Perhaps you’d like to tell me what that was all about.”
She raised her eyebrows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Demons and fire, Kez! You’ve never spoken to me as you did just now! I’ve never known you to accuse anyone without cause the way you did Marston, and I’ve certainly never heard you speak of ‘Eandi nobles’ with such contempt.”
She looked away. I’m sorry! she wanted to say. I have to do this! I have to convince them that I can be turned, that you’ve hurt me so much my loyalties are no longer so certain. Don’t you see? I have to do this for you. Instead she regarded him coolly and lied. “Just because I never said it before, that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought it.”
“So you believe that Eandi nobles are quick to betray their allies?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Does that include me?”
She knew she had to hurt him. Even speaking with him in private, she couldn’t afford to waver from her purpose. But she couldn’t bring herself to speak the words. She merely shrugged, leaving the question unanswered, and so answering it in his mind.
Kearney swallowed. “I see.” He stepped around to the far side of the table and sat, as he often did when she made him angry or sad. It almost seemed at such times that he needed to put something solid between them. “Have you felt this way very long?”
“I didn’t when we were in Glyndwr, if that’s what you mean.”
“So you feel that I’ve betrayed you.”
“I said what I did about Marston of Shanstead, not about you. Why do the Eandi always make everything about themselves?”
He just stared at her, as if she had told him she was an Aneiran spy. After a few moments, his eyes narrowed. “This all started after Paegar died, didn’t it?”
“Did it?” she asked. She didn’t want their discussion turning in this direction, but she felt powerless to stop it.
“Do you believe I wronged him in some way? Was his funeral too modest? Or was there more to your friendship with him than I knew? Was he your lover? Is that it? Did losing him remind you once more of the love we lost?”
“He wasn’t my lover.” How could I ever love anyone other than you? “This has nothing to do with Paegar.”
“Then what is it, Kez? What’s happened to you?”
“Nothing has happened to me, Your Majesty. I merely expressed an opinion. I believe that Marston intends to betray you.”
“Because that’s what Eandi nobles do.”
“Because this Eandi noble has every reason to, and because your hold on the throne may appear tenuous to Eibithar’s other houses.”
Kearney shook his head again. “I think there’s more to it than that. You’re angry with me. I can always tell.”
“Well, Your Majesty, it may be that you don’t know me as well as you thought.”
His jaw tightened, the way it did when he was trying to control his rage. “Yes,” he said thickly. “That may be. In which case the question becomes can I still trust you to serve as my archminister.”
Keziah’s breath caught in her throat. It was one thing to convince others in the castle that she and Kearney were estranged. It was quite another to lose her position and with it her influence. The conspiracy would have no interest in her if she didn’t still serve Eibithar’s king. Losing what she had left of him in this way was bad enough, but to do so in vain would kill her.
Yet the only way to keep him from sending her away was to goad him further. “I merely expressed an opinion, Your Majesty. Am I to understand that you wish to be served only by those who will agree with all you say, and offer counsel that pleases you?”