The Queen's Rising (Untitled Trilogy #1)(69)
“Lord MacQuinn has spent twenty-five years in exile,” I began. “He once dared to defy you. He once dared to take the throne from your possession. But you were stronger, my lord king. You crushed him. And it has taken nearly a quarter of a century for him to strip his pride to its bones, for him to soften enough to recognize his mistake, his treachery. He has sent me to ask you to pardon him, that his exile and his loss have been a great price he has paid. He has sent me to ask you to allow him back into the land of his birth, to once more serve you, to show that while you are fierce, you are also merciful and good.”
Lannon stood so still and quiet he could have been carved from stone. But the diamonds in his crown sparkled with malicious glee. Slowly, I watched his leather jerkin rustle with his breathing, and he stepped down the dais, his boots hardly making noise on the tiles. He was coming—stalking—to me, and I held my ground, waiting.
Only when he was a handbreadth away, looming over me, did he ask, “And why has he sent you, Amadine? To tempt me?”
“I am his passion daughter,” I answered, helplessly looking at the broken blood vessels around his nose. “He has sent me to show his trust in you. He has sent me because I am of his family, and I have come alone, without an escort, to furthermore show his good faith in his king.”
“A passion, is it?” His eyes roved over me. “What sort?”
“I am a mistress of knowledge, my lord king.”
A muscle feathered along his jaw. I had no inkling as to what thoughts swarmed his mind, but he didn’t seem pleased. Knowledge, indeed, was dangerous. But he finally turned away, walking back to his throne, his long royal robes of amber dragging behind him on the floor, rippling as liquid gold as he ascended the dais stairs.
“Tell me, Amadine Jourdain,” he said, resuming his seat on the grand throne. “What would your passion father do upon returning to the land of his birth?”
“He would serve you in whatever manner you would ask of him.”
“Ha! That is rather interesting. If I remember correctly, Davin MacQuinn was a very proud man. Do you recall, Lord Allenach?”
Allenach had not moved, not an inch. But his eyes were still on me, circumspectly. And that was when I remembered what Liam had said, the dynamic between the king and his councillor. That it was more important for me to get Allenach’s blessing, for Allenach influenced the king like no other.
“Yes, my lord king,” Allenach spoke, his voice a deep set baritone that moved through the hall like darkness. “Davin MacQuinn was once a very proud man. But his daughter speaks otherwise, that twenty-five years have finally cured him.”
“It does not strike you odd that he would send his passion daughter to come make atonement for him?” Lannon questioned, the amethyst ring on his forefinger catching the light that poured in through the windows overhead.
“No. Not at all,” Allenach eventually responded, those eyes still weighing me, trying to measure my depth. Was I a threat, or wasn’t I? “As Amadine has stated, he has sent his most precious resource, to exemplify the honesty of his request.”
“And what of the others, Amadine?” Lannon asked brusquely. “The other two lords, the two cowards who have slipped through my nets, just as your father? I just burned one of their sigils. Where are the others?”
“I know of no others, my lord king,” I answered.
“For your sake, I hope you speak truth,” the king said, leaning forward. “Because if I find out otherwise, you will regret ever stepping into my hall.”
I had not prepared to be threatened so many times. And my voice had fled, turning to dust in my throat, and so I gave him another curtsy, to acknowledge his cold statement.
“So you believe we should allow him to return home?” Lannon crossed his legs, glancing back to his councillor.
Allenach took one step closer, then another, until he was standing at the edge of the dais. “Yes, my king. Let him return, and let us hear what the traitor has to say. And while we wait for him, I will take his daughter to my holding.”
“I would prefer his daughter to remain here,” Lannon objected, “where I can keep an eye on her.”
My jaw clenched; in vain, I tried to look pleasant. I tried to look as if I did not care who hosted me. But I almost fell to my knees in profound relief when Allenach said, “Amadine Jourdain is a Valenian, my lord king. She will feel more at home with me, with the hunt of the hart ongoing at Damhan, and I swear to keep an eye on her at all times.”
Lannon cocked his nearly invisible eyebrow, thrumming his fingers on the armrest of his throne. But then he declared, “So be it. MacQuinn may cross the border unscathed, and will come appeal to me in person. Amadine, you will go with Lord Allenach for the time being.”
I pressed my fortune one final time. “My lord king, may I write the letter to my father? So he knows he may cross the channel?” I was to use two phrases in that letter, one that would secretly alert Jourdain to just how agitated Lannon had been with my request, and one that would assure him that I had made it to Damhan. And at this precarious point in time, I didn’t dare to send a letter over the channel without the king’s permission.
“Why of course you may.” Lannon was mocking me when he motioned for the scribe to bring his desk, his paper, and his ink to me in the middle of the aisle. “In fact, let us do that now, together.” The king waited until I had dipped the quill in the ink, and then he stopped me, just before I began to write. “I will tell you exactly what to say to him. How is that?”