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Lord Farquar abruptly stood and extended a hand to Annabel. “I’m tired of this political talk. This is supposed to be a celebration, after all. Seeing as your husband is too drunk to tell his right foot from his left, will you dance with me?”
“I don’t think you’re far off, yourself,” she said, laughing, “but it would be my honor.”
Auberon objected, wishing to continue his questioning, but they paid him no heed as the lord took Annabel’s hand and swept her off to the dance floor. Beside him, Lady Annabel’s husband lifted his goblet to his lips and muttered something crude under his breath. Cathal burst out laughing, rocking back so far he tumbled off the bench, dragging the tablecloth along with him. Auberon leapt up as goblets overturned, spilling wine across the table and over Cathal’s doublet. The Treasurer only roared louder.
“By the Creator, man!” one of the nearby nobles exclaimed, carefully skirting the drugged Treasurer. “How much have you had to drink?”
Auberon swore under his breath and reached down to pull Cathal to his feet. Hemayhave given the Treasurer abittoo much of the drugged wine. The toxin was too diluted to kill him, but he would wake with a pounding headache in the morning. “Come, let’s get you some fresh air.”
Cathal beamed at him and slapped a meaty hand on Auberon’s back so hard he grimaced. “What a gentleman. Our Lady Riona would be lucky to marry one so well-mannered!”
He refrained from reminding the Treasurer that he was not, in fact, a suitor. He slung Cathal’s arm around his shoulders and led the man out to the balcony, into the sobering embrace of the cool night air. Thankfully, there were only a few other people outside. Auberon guided the Treasurer to the railing, relieved to see that it was high enough that Cathal wouldn’t somehow fall over the side. That would be thelastthing he needed.
He glanced over his shoulder to check that none of the other people had wandered into earshot, then murmured, “What can you tell me about the mines, Cathal?”
The Treasurer slowly dragged his gaze from the sprawling city. “Mmmmines? What mines?”
“The eudorite mines in the Howling Mountains. I know they exist.”
“There’re no mines, boy. The Rennox will never allow it. Did you know they have hearts of stone and eyes of onyx? That’s what the stories say, anyway.” The Treasurer paused, frowning thoughtfully. “But they also say that anyone who enters the Mountains is never seen again. So how’re there stories, hm? Tell me that.”
“Cathal, focus,” Auberon hissed. “If King Domhnall mined the eudorite, he would be able to outfit his troops with the strongest weapons and armor in the world. His army would be unstoppable. Isn’t that what he’s planning?”
Cathal let out a choked sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “It’s not as simple as you make it sound, son.”
Auberon opened his mouth to respond, but held his tongue as a pretty elven servant emerged from the banquet hall with a tray of goblets balanced on one hand. She smiled as she handed them each a goblet, then moved on to the other nobles milling about on the far side of the balcony. As soon as she was gone, he said, “What do—”
The Treasurer suddenly thrust his goblet into Auberon’s hand and lurched backward, his face turning a sickly shade of green. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
He hurriedly set both drinks down and steadied Cathal with a hand as the man doubled over and retched over the railing. Frustration and impatience swept through him, along with a rush of defeat. Cathal couldn’t stay at the banquet in this state, and it was clear Auberon wasn’t going to get any useful answers out of him tonight. “Alright, my friend,” he sighed. “I think it’s time you went home.”
The Treasurer slapped his hand away. “No, no—my office. I have a cot. I’ll sleep off the drink in there.”
Auberon caught the eye of a guard inside the banquet hall and waved him over. “It seems our friend here has indulged in a bit too much wine,” he said when the man reached them. “Would you please take him to his office, and see to it that he drinks plenty of water. And please—be discreet when leaving. I doubt the Treasurer would want anyone to see him in this state.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
The guard slung Cathal’s arm over his shoulders and led the Treasurer away. Auberon watched them leave, then turned back and gazed out at Rivosa’s capital city, seeking a few moments of peace before he had to return and play the courtier once again.So this is where my empire’s greatest enemy lives,he thought as he took in the sight before him. The city spread out in every direction, warm golden light glowing from the large bay windows of the manors that surrounded the castle. Unlike Torch, the manors here were a dark gray stone, greenery climbing the old bricks. As they approached the tall walls that surrounded the city, the buildings grew smaller and narrower, cramped row-houses lining the twisting cobblestone roads. It was striking how different the two capitals were: Torch was pristine and uniform, vivid colors and sterile whites; Innislee was ancient and scarred from countless battles, all labyrinthine alleyways and sharply pitched roofs, new buildings built upon the bones of the old. It was a city thatsurvived.
The start of another song drifted through the open banquet hall doors, and Auberon sighed. It was growing late, and soon someone would question his absence. He grabbed the goblets of wine and returned to the hall, pausing for a moment to scan the room. The music was still playing, nobles still dancing, chatter still filling the air. Some servants had cleaned up the mess Cathal had made; the table where the advisors had sat was empty, the stained tablecloth replaced with a fresh one.
Auberon was considering wading through the crowd in search of another council member when his gaze landed on Lady Riona, who was quickly making her way toward the musicians’ platform at the far end of the room. She had her head bowed, clearly trying to stay out of sight. Perfect. It would give him a chance to speak with her before the suitors could claim her attention once again. He set one of the goblets on the nearest table and started toward her. He may have learned nothing from Cathal, but she was wearing a necklace of eudorite, and her father was Lord of Innislee. Riona or her father had to know something about the mines.
He drained the wine as he neared her, savoring the spices that danced on his tongue. It was so much more flavorful than the cheap, watered-down ale he always drank in the taverns in Torch. He set his empty goblet on a passing servant’s tray as he neared the Lady of Innislee. She turned just as he smiled and dropped into a low bow.
“Lady Riona, would you honor me with a dance?”
ChapterEleven
The Lady
Riona followed Prince Domhnall into the courtyard at the center of the building and shivered as a chill crept across her skin. The balcony had been prepared for the guests, but she was glad Domhnall had taken her somewhere private. She needed a break from the court. Unfortunately, they had about five minutes before the king or queen would notice their absence and summon them back to the banquet.
“I thought you’d want to slip away,” her cousin said as she sank onto one of the stone benches and tugged off her heels, breathing a sigh of relief. “Clearly, I was right. As I so often am.”
“Humble, too.”
Domhnall sat beside her and bumped her shoulder. “That’s a strange way to say thank you. Pick up those manners in Beltharos, did you?”
