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Then he would be Toren’s firstborn.
Tes shuddered at the thought of that mess. Half-truths and ill intentions had been the downfall of more than one leader. If some twisted group latched onto her son as a secret, “true” heir, it could end in war. She would have to do everything she could to prevent that from happening.
“I’ll cast the glamour on Speran once we’re done here,” Tes said. “One that will grow with him.”
Ria shook her head. “You shouldn’t have to do that. Speran is old enough that Toren couldn’t have been unfaithful to me, and I know the truth, besides.”
Although Ria was an intelligent woman, she wasn’t accustomed to considering the myriad ways that the innocent could be embroiled in power struggles, at least not on such a large scale. Tes had no doubt the new queen would learn, butas yet, it wasn’t always Ria’s first thought. Unfortunately, her optimism would fade after a few decades of dealing with petty, power-hungry nobles.
“Speculation is one thing,” Tes said softly. “But if it leads to action, that’s something else entirely. What if someone like Duke Hesslefyn believes that Speran is Toren’s true heir?”
Ria’s cup bobbled in her hand. “Oh, no. That’s… I see what you’re saying now. It wouldn’t be good for anyone to guess who you and Speran really are, but even that would be easier to handle than a conflict over inheritance.”
“Indeed,” Toren muttered.
Oblivious, the baby in question waved his arms toward Tes until she shifted her son to her own lap. He slumped back against her belly, and she tucked her hands over his waist to better support him. He’d done a great deal of work, practicing his sitting, so she wouldn’t be surprised if he drifted to sleep like Elna.
Tes gave Toren a pointed look. “There was another reason you were looking for me in the garden. What was it?”
When the High King rubbed at his temples, she braced herself for his words. “I heard from Ber. Since he and I can communicate mentally across such a distance, he wants me to help coordinate any plans between the two of you.”
Tes had to focus on her grip to keep from squeezing poor Speran in her anger. “Who said we were planning anything together?”
“Not I,” Toren replied, lifting his hands. “I merely agreed to deliver his message. Specifically, he wants to share information about what’s happening at court to aid your plans to claim the Centoi throne.”
That sad little splinter twisted and grew within her chest. She sucked in a trembling breath against the ache, but it did little good. “In the book he gave me, he claimed he’d sent me herebecause of my father’s plans for me. He…wrote as though he was happy for me to kill him upon my return, and on the surface, this newest message expresses the same intent to see me on the throne. But how could I trust a word of what he says?”
“I wouldn’t,” Mehl said, earning a frown from Toren. “I’ve come to accept that Ber might be on our side, but I’m not convinced enough to rely on his information.”
She couldn’t disagree with the sentiment, at least not on the surface. Trusting her husband could get her killed the moment she returned to Centoi—that was a sad fact. Yet she couldn’t forget all that she’d seen when she’d confronted him. Nor could she disregard the contents of the journal. All in all, there was an equal chance Ber was telling the truth.
“Too bad you can’t test him,” Ria offered.
Even as Tes stared at her friend in surprise, the possibilities began to swirl in her mind. Nothing solid, not yet, but enough that she knew the idea had merit. “Maybe I can.”
Ria tapped her finger against the table. “Without getting hurt? Please tell me I didn’t give you a dangerous idea.”
“I need more time to ponder it, preferably after I get some rest,” Tes replied. “But I won’t risk myself on a test. If I can’t think of something low risk, I’ll abandon the concept. For now, Toren, tell him I’ll consider his offer if he contacts you before I’ve decided.”
Although Toren’s brow was furrowed with concern, he nodded. “Very well.”
Tes lifted Speran against her chest and dismissed herself from the room. Once she had her son settled in for a nap, she could have some rest of her own. And then, she would have to take some serious plotting time. She didn’t just have a test to consider. She had a king to overthrow.
Thanks to a handfulof dignitaries from Vorwen, Ber didn’t have to suffer through the tension of one of the king’s private dinners. He was far more comfortable playing the role of affable prince at the High Table than he was dodging innuendos and outright questions from Ryenil and his other invited confidants. The long, pointless conversations were at least enough to distract him from the lack of response from Tes.
“I do hope you’ll enjoy the evening’s entertainment,” the king said to their guests as the meal ended. “There are musicians and small magic displays spread throughout the garden for your pleasure. I’m sure the mages would be happy to create any effect you might wish and the musicians to play as you will it.”
There was an innuendo to the offer that only a couple of dignitaries seemed to catch, and from the dark gleam in one man’s eyes, he bore watching. Not that Ryenil would interfere with any abuse an honored guest wanted to inflict upon a servant, artisan, or artist. It was a common enough problem that there were whispers in both the Mages’ and Musicians’ Guilds about the dangers of accepting a post in the palace.
When Ber happened upon such a thing, he did his best to put a stop to it without causing a stir. Deflection and humor went far in such situations, especially since he was in a position of relative power, but he couldn’t save everyone. He tried not to think about those he couldn’t help—and failed. The people of Centoi deserved to do their jobs here in safety. There would be a great deal of cleaning up to do once Ryenil was deposed.
In the meantime, Ber had to settle for following the worrisome dignitary down the garden path as best he could. It wasn’t going well tonight, since the king was slower than usualabout dismissing him to enjoy the entertainment on his own. They were nearly to the end of the long, central pathway before Ryenil caught his eye.
“I am hesitant to send you out alone after last night’s…difficulties,” the king said, his voice too low to carry.
Ber’s skin prickled with warning. Though it could refer to the threat of an assassin, the statement could also show a lack of trust. “Father, I gave my word that I had no interest in these noblewomen beyond some future alliance, and that remains true. In fact, I have bedded no one in this palace except for my beloved Princess Lora in more years than I can count. Did you not believe my sincerity? It grieves me that you fear I might cause a scandal.”
“Could I not hold concern for you, my son?” Ryenil asked. This time, his tone took on a jovial cast, but there was a thread of tension that Ber didn’t like. “We know nothing about the source of the attack. The garden is an excellent place for a knife in the dark.”
