The Blood Spell (Ravenspire, #4)(50)
“What we need is a workable plan, and a leader capable of putting that plan in motion.” Georgiana gave Kellan a look that was pure challenge.
He straightened his shoulders and held her gaze. “We have a workable plan, Lady Faure. No one said it would be easy, or that it would yield results immediately.”
“I’m not sure a boy of nearly nineteen is the best person to catch a witch,” she said.
Silence blanketed the room, and Kellan stared the woman down. Here was the challenge he’d been worried would happen. A family without a daughter of marriageable age who still wanted a shot at the throne. A direct hit at his leadership abilities, at the confidence the council had in him to be their next king. A hit that had to be answered without a single show of weakness.
Praying he was making the right choice, he said in a voice as cold as the marble floor beneath his feet, “Lady Faure, you are dismissed.”
Her eyes widened in furious disbelief. “You can’t dismiss me.”
He kept his gaze steadily on hers. “I am your sovereign prince, soon to be your king. This is my kingdom, my castle, and my royal council. You are invited to participate as a representative of your family only so long as I allow it. You have made it clear that you do not wish to cooperate with the plan the council agreed upon, and further, you have insinuated a lack of confidence in my leadership. I will not tolerate advisers who are not fully committed to the good of the kingdom. If you do not cooperate, the Faure family will lose its seat on the council. If you make amends for your disrespect, I will allow you to choose another representative for your family at the next council meeting. You are dismissed.”
He turned from her, as if fully confident she would leave without a fuss and focused all of his attention on discussing the previous night’s attack with Senet. His shoulders knotted with tension as he waited for Georgiana’s response.
Either he’d passed the test, humbling Georgiana and leaving her without allies on the council and with no choice but to obey him or lose her family’s seat entirely, or he’d made an enemy of both her and anyone who secretly felt as she did and given them a flag to rally around.
After a moment that felt as long as a year, she said quietly, “I beg your pardon, Your Majesty. My son will take my place at the next council meeting.” Her voice seethed with bitterness, but she left quietly, and Kellan decided to count it as a victory. He turned to meet the eyes of the rest of the council and found respect, wariness, and speculation in equal measure.
“Let’s get to work,” he said, and no one argued.
Two hours later, the council meeting adjourned, and Kellan slipped out the door, even though his mother, Dinah, and Martin were heading toward him from three separate corners of the room. He didn’t know what each of them wanted to discuss with him, but he needed a minute to breathe. To think.
He ducked into the east library, cut through the sitting room attached to it, and ended up in the smaller hallway used by the castle staff.
“Your Majesty?” His secretary spoke from behind him.
Kellan shook his head, waving his hand in the air as he kept walking. “Not now, Jacques. And also it’s spooky how you always seem to know where I am.”
“I find it a useful skill since you tend to be . . . somewhat difficult to pin down at times.” Jacques hurried after the prince.
Kellan turned a corner and walked faster.
“Your Majesty, I apologize, but there are several important documents you need to review, and your mother has requested that we immediately set up a meeting between you and the new Faure council member.”
“The new Faure . . . I left the meeting less than three minutes ago. How did she already get word to you?” Kellan shot Jacques an irritated look.
The man shrugged. “She had me sit just outside the room so she could brief me on anything you might need assistance with once the meeting adjourned.”
“Well, schedule the meeting, then. You know my calendar. And leave the documents on my desk. I’ll see to them later.” He took another step and sighed. “And stop following me, Jacques. That’s an order.”
He cut through the conservatory and reached the main hallway just in time for Dinah to call his name as she moved out of the east wing.
Was it too much to ask that he have one single minute to himself?
Pretending he hadn’t heard her, he increased the distance between them, nearly jogging by the time he reached the corridor that led to the kitchen. She called his name again, and this time he heard Martin too.
Rounding the corner out of their view, he sprinted down the corridor, burst into the anteroom that led to the kitchen, and nearly collided with Blue.
“Kellan!” Her mouth dropped open in shock. “What are you doing? Why are you—hey!”
“Shh,” he said as he flung open the door that led to the kitchen maid’s closet and pulled both of them inside. Shutting the door quietly behind them, he said softly, “I just need a minute.”
“A minute to do what?” she spoke as quietly as he had. “Hide in a closet?”
“If that’s what it takes.” He strained to hear footsteps, but if Dinah and Martin were intent on following him to the kitchen to have a conversation, they hadn’t reached the anteroom yet. “I just finished with an emergency council meeting, and I needed a minute to myself just to breathe, but my secretary kept following me, and then Dinah Chauveau and Martin Roche came after me, and I’m sure they want to discuss what happened with Georgiana Faure, but I need to think before I have another fraught political discussion.”