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Turning back to the court, Auberon studied the way the nobles moved from conversation to conversation, tracking which lords and ladies attracted the most attention. It seemed to be concentrated around a group of men and women seated at the closer end of one of the tables. The advisors, presumably. As the song drew to a close, Duke Valerian practically leapt from his seat for the chance to dance with Lady Riona. Auberon fought the urge to roll his eyes.Amateurs.
He rose and descended from the dais. On his way, he snagged a pitcher of wine from a passing servant’s tray and refilled his cup. He took a sip as he leaned against one of the pillars lining the hall to watch Riona and Valerian dance. Noble couples spun around them in a sea of lace, silk, damask, and brocade, but every woman paled in comparison to the Lady of Innislee.
Since King Domhnall’s invitation arrived at the royal palace in Torch, hardly a day had passed in which Auberon wasn’t regaled with tales of her beauty: her striking blue eyes, flawless ebony skin, and full lips. The rumors hadn’t been exaggerated. Lady Riona was so beautiful it took his breath away. She was tall and willowy, with waist-length braids woven through with strands of gold ribbon. Even if there hadn’t been whispers of potential eudorite mines, it wouldn’t have been a mystery why the heirs to three thrones sought her hand in marriage.
As she spun, Riona’s unusual necklace caught his attention. The pendant was made of a metal that resembled obsidian, jaggedly cut into a shape like an arrowhead. Eudorite. He had never seen the strange metal before, but there was no doubt in his mind. The pendant looked like nothing else he had ever seen. Auberon took another drink as he surveyed the other ladies of the court. Every wrist, neck, and ear dripped with priceless jewelry, but no one wore anything remotely close to Riona’s eudorite pendant. Even the queen’s jewels were mere rubies.
At the head table, Drystan bowed to the king and queen, then approached the Lady of Innislee to finally claim his dance. Auberon noted the way the king’s attention lingered on the prince, his lips pursing in thought.See, Drystan? Invaluable counsel.
He set his goblet aside and turned his back to the royal family. Eventually, he would have to dance with Lady Riona for propriety’s sake, but he had much more important matters to attend to at the moment.
Most of the council members were still lounging at one of the tables, chatting. As he started toward them, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the glass vial tucked inside, breaking the wax stopper with his thumb. It contained a diluted form of the poison known as gloriosa tansy. In its pure form, it mimicked extreme inebriation before ushering its victim to a swift death. Diluted, it served to dull one’s inhibitions. He dumped the contents into the wine pitcher. A little alcohol, dosed with the drug, would simply loosen the tongues of the council members. If any of the advisors had knowledge of the mining operation, he would find out before the night was over.
* * *
“Oh, you think I’m exaggerating, my friends? The hounds tracked his scent to the larder, where they found him without a stitch of clothing. He had a pie in one hand and was using it to cover his… Well, I’m sure you can imagine.” Auberon grinned as the advisors roared with laughter. He stood, pitcher in hand, and refilled each of their goblets with the drugged wine. “I swear it on my life! That was the last time I saw thatparticularstableboy, although stories about him ran rampant through the palace for weeks afterward.”
“What a rogue!” Lady Annabel exclaimed, fanning herself with a hand. To her right, her husband gasped for breath, laughing so hard he nearly fell off his seat.
“Truly, truly!” Auberon turned to the Royal Treasurer—a short, round-faced man named Cathal—and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Some say he has a dozen half-noble bastards throughout Torch, and he’s barely a year older than I! Can you believe it?”
“By the Creator, no!”
He raised a brow. “You haven’t any wild tales like that from your youth?”
“Oh, I didn’t say that. If I admitted to half the idiotic things I did when I was young and foolish, I’d have to resign.” The portly, red-faced man hiccuped, then took a long swig of his wine. Auberon’s smile took on a sharp edge. The diluted gloriosa tansy had most certainly taken effect. “One doesn’t become Royal Treasurer by—hic!—gallivanting around with the ladies of the court. I’m married to my—hic!—my work.”
“And she is a cruel mistress, isn’t she, Cathal?” Lord Farquar asked, good-naturedly shoving the man’s shoulder. “I don’t envy you, my friend.”
“That she is, but I love her so.”
Out of the corner of Auberon’s eye, he saw Prince Domhnall cross the room and grasp his cousin’s elbow. He and Riona exchanged a few quick words before slipping through a door tucked into the side of the banquet hall, half-hidden from sight by the wing of a stone dragon. Making a quick escape between songs, it seemed. He turned back to the advisors and kept his voice carefully nonchalant. “That necklace Lady Riona is wearing. It’s eudorite, is it not?”
“Quite unusual, no?” Cathal said between hiccups. “It was her mother’s, given to her just before her death. A tragedy, that. Her ship sank a few years back.”
“It was struck down by Erdurian ships eight years ago,” Farquar corrected, directing his response to Auberon. The mirth in his voice had faded, replaced with the pure loathing of a man who had watched too many friends die in battle. “On her annual visit to the Selannic Isles, which was protected by a Rivosi fleet and flying flags of neutrality. She should have been safe.”
His words hung in the air. The knowledge that the fighting had claimed Riona’s mother settled heavily on Auberon’s chest, but he would not apologize for it. They were at war. Innocents died, and pretty words wouldn’t bring them back. He knew that better than most. Around them, the council members turned to their drinks, the humor on their faces dying. Farquar stared straight at him, his fingers tightening on the stem of his goblet as if he were imagining wringing Auberon’s neck.
“We paid our price for the attack,” Auberon said carefully. “Because of Lady Rhea’s death, no man or woman with a single drop of Erdurian blood is allowed to set foot on the Isles.”
“You lost some trade,” the lord responded, his voice like steel. The words were slightly slurred from the drugged wine, but not nearly as much as Auberon would have liked. “The queen lost her sister. Lord Lachlan lost the love of his life. The price you and your people paid is nothing in comparison.”
One of the council members cleared his throat loudly, and Auberon inclined his head, eager to steer the conversation in a direction that wasslightlyless confrontational. “My apologies for bringing it up. I shall give Lady Riona my condolences.”
The tension on some of the council members’ faces faded, but Farquar did not look appeased, his cold stare fixed on Auberon. Yet he did not object as Lady Annabel reached over and patted Auberon’s hand. “I’m sure she would appreciate that, Your Highness. It would mean a lot coming from one of the Emperor’s sons.” She turned toward the head table, where the king and queen were watching over the celebration. “Her Majesty took the loss of her sister hard. They sailed here from the Isles together, did you know? Two royal sisters for two royal brothers.”
“Does Queen Blair have a necklace like that, then? Could the eudorite have come from the Isles?”
“I don’t think so,” she responded, and the others nodded in agreement. “According to the stories, eudorite is only found in the Howling Mountains. Not that ourbraveking would risk angering the Rennox by mining it.” Annoyance flashed across her face, and she reached across the table to refill her goblet once again, sloshing a bit of wine over the rim in the process. “Everyone knows they disappeared over twenty years ago.”
“The king and queen of Beltharos were attacked by Rennox just this past summer,” Farquar said. “This topic has come up in meetings before, Annabel, and we’re all in agreement. Between the Rennox, the caves, and the sinkholes, it’s much too dangerous to evenattemptto mine the Mountains.”
“Maybe for mortal men. Send a ship to Gyr’malr and hire some of those reptilian Qadar to mine the ore. Their scales are said to be nearly indestructible.”
He scoffed. “We’ve all heard of the battle that took place between the Beltharan army and the Assassins’ Guild. The Guildmother was Qadari, and her cruelty was unparalleled. There’s no place for her ilk in Rivosa. I say, leave the Qadari in Gyr’malr, and let those Creator-forsaken Rennox have all the eudorite they like.”
As they spoke, Auberon studied the Royal Treasurer, noting how quiet Cathal had become at the mention of the Mountains. If anyone outside the royal family knew of the eudorite mining, it would be him. The king would need someone experienced in finance to address wages, supplies, and the like—and who better than the man who had served as Treasurer for decades?
