Stormcaster (Shattered Realms #3)(86)

“That’s no problem,” Granger said. “I’ll handle it. I’ll use the children as leverage.”

No, you will not, Destin thought.

“I will handle it,” Destin said, “but I will need your help. Queen Marina has asked me to accompany her into the—into their quarters. My role is to make the consequences of bad behavior plain. Her role will be to assess what is needed to make them ready for the reception. We believe that is the way to best assure their cooperation.”

“The queen?” Granger’s bluster faded a bit. “The queen—in the Pit? Absolutely not. That’s no place for a lady.”

“That’s just what I told Her Majesty, and she pointed out that there are at least a dozen ladies down there now—with their children. She is determined to go and invite them personally, then arrange for clothing, bathing, and so on. It would reflect badly on our king if they look as if they’ve spent months in a dungeon.”

The irony of this was, of course, lost on Granger. But the potential blowback from allowing the queen into his domain was not.

“I’ll—I’ll need a few days,” Granger muttered, visibly twitchy.

“We don’t have a few days,” Destin said. “The reception is a week away. We’re coming tomorrow. More importantly, I’ve received intelligence suggesting that the rebels are planning an attack on the capital while our down-realm visitors are here. They may intend to embarrass King Jarat—or they may intend to achieve through assassination what they haven’t done through force of arms.”

By now, Granger was looking a little ill, as if his hard-won role as gaoler and captain of the King’s Guard wasn’t sitting well. If King Jarat went down, he could expect no mercy from the thanes whose families he’d incarcerated.

Granger cleared his throat. “Isn’t it your job to prevent that?”

“It’s my job to alert the King’s Guard when the king may be in danger,” Destin said. “That’s exactly what I’m doing. It’s the job of the King’s Guard to protect the royal family. Don’t worry, though. If anything happens, we’ll both be neck deep in it.”

“If we don’t know what’s going to happen, and when, then how are we supposed to—?”

“As I see it, the biggest point of vulnerability is during the reception, as the ballroom is outside the central keep. It was never meant to be a fortress. So. The king wants to fill out his guest list. The ladies will need someone to dance with. I want a squad of blackbirds in the ballroom. If anything happens, I want them to usher the royal family and the down-realm guests from the ballroom and into the keep. Keep them there until I give the all clear.”

“What about the hostages—I mean, the thanes’ families?” Granger said.

“In the event of an attack, we’ll want to segregate them from the down-realm barons and the royal family,” Destin said. “I plan to take them to Newgate and secure them there until the danger is over.”

“Ah,” Granger said, nodding, avoiding eye contact. “That sounds like a good plan.” His expression had shifted from panicked to calculating, and Destin knew he was considering how to turn the situation to his advantage, or find a way to blame Destin if it went wrong. All at once, he seemed eager to bring the interview to a close. “Is that all, Lieutenant? If so—”

“There’s one more thing,” Destin said, keeping his seat.

“It’s late, Lieutenant,” Granger said, “and I’ll have much to do tomorrow. Perhaps it can—”

“There is a disturbing rumor that pertains directly to you, Captain Granger,” Destin said. “I suspect you’ll want to hear it.”

“To me?” Granger said.

“You’ve told me that you grew up in Southgate,” Destin said. “The son of a merchant?”

“Yes,” Granger snapped. “What of it?”

“Yet I cannot find anyone who remembers you there,” Destin said. “Nor any family. Nor, in the temple, any record of your birth.”

“You dared to snoop into my background?” Granger stood, as if to walk out, but of course the conversation was taking place in his room. Awkward. He pointed at the door. “This interview is over.”

“It is my job to investigate those close to the king, in order to identify possible threats and conflicts,” Destin said.

“If they don’t remember me in Southgate, it’s because I left there at an early age,” Granger said. “Apparently, I didn’t make much of an impression.”

“I had better luck at Watergate,” Destin said.

That landed like a cannonball.

“Really?” Granger said, turning fish-belly pale. “That’s surprising. I’m not sure I even know where that is.” A sheen of sweat appeared on the bailiff’s upper lip. He glanced around, as if the spymaster’s minions might be closing in.

“I spoke to your lady mother, who has high hopes that you will come into your rightful inheritance one day,” Destin said.

“You spoke to my mother?” The bailiff went from pale to sheet-white. “If you’ve hurt her, I’ll—”

“Tell me, does the king call you Cousin Luc in private?”

With that, Granger drew his sword and lunged at Destin, who dodged aside, stuck out his foot, and sent the bailiff flying so that he landed, hard, on the hearth, his ornate blade clattering onto the stones. Destin sent flash into the sword, heating it to a dull red. After briefly holding its shape, it subsided into a puddle.