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“She just did,” Velichkov spat, and even bleeding and restrained – and now gagged, as a cloth was immediately drawn over his mouth by one of the many guards struggling to keep him on his knees – the statement came across as the threat it was.
“What does that mean?” someone whispered, and the question was taken up by several others, echoing around the hall until everyone was staring at the elder Lord Lago, who was somewhat of an expert on these types of laws. He also hated attracting so much attention, and fidgeted uncomfortably until his husband lay a reassuring hand on his elbow.
“Uhm,” he said awkwardly, “it means the only remaining claimant through hereditary succession is the youngest Aratorre daughter, whose reign would also be held by regency or husbandship.”
“Another damn foreigner,” someone in the crowd muttered.
“But…but Mariana Janssen ceded all rights held by herself and her heirs to take a crown when she voluntarily abolished Onn’s monarchy,” Lord Lago hastily continued, referencing how my other sister and her husband were in the process of dissolving their rule in favour of an elected government. “In the absence of any other...blood claimants, the Quarehian throne may be filled by popular vote of the nobility, should they so choose.”
“I choose,” the younger Lord Lago said eagerly. His voice was pitched high with excitement. “We can crown our new king ourselves!”
“Or we can get on with the fucking duel,” snarled Welzes, the tip of his sword aimed at my throat.
*
Chapter Forty-Seven
“Actually, you can’t.” Quintín Lago stepped forward, his face flushed with triumph. “Prince Nathanael is right. Under Riehse Eshan’s laws of displacement of sovereignty, a kings’ duel is only for when one of the duellists already holds the throne. Your fight will not determine anything at law.” He looked to the man at his side and pawed at his arm. “Did I get that right, love?”
His husband paled further as all eyes in the hall turned back to him.
“Y-you did,” the elder Lord Lago stammered, shrinking behind his other half.
But what the two noblemen appeared to be naively missing was that if Welzes killed Ren, the candidacy options for the crown would be helpfully lessened. My prince swiftly tossed the sword back to the closest guard, winking at me as if he’d had the same thought. It wasn’t that we believed Welzes honourable enough not to cut down an unarmed man, but at least he’d risk losing any remaining support in the court if he did.
Now Welzes and Ren were equal, neither with a stronger claim than the other. It all came down to the people’s choice.
Not all of the people...that would be quite an effort, and it was an interesting idea for the future. But the nobles here ruled over every corner of Quareh, representatives from across its fertile, sun-baked soil.
“Where is Navar?” demanded Welzes. “Get him in here, now!”
“You’ll find Councillor Navar in the inner palace courtyard,” Ren drawled, inspecting a scratch on the back of his hand as if that was the worst he had to worry about. “You’re welcome to go find him if you need to be told what to do, but be sure to use a fifth storey window like he did, won’t you?”
Welzes went pale.
“Fine,” he said to the court after a long, tense moment. The word was drawn out, reluctantly uttered when he evidently saw no other way forward. “We will travel to the capital and hold yourvote-”
“We have a quorum of lords here,” Lago chipped in, his enthusiasm unintentionally stymieing the man’s attempt to seek support from the rest of the Council back in Máros. “We can vote now.”
“It is tradition to put forward positions first, my love,” his husband said in what was maybe supposed to be a whisper but the anticipatory silence of the hall made echo.
Ren made a courteous gesture towards his opponent. “Por favor, señor.The wisdom you must have gleaned through the many passing of seasons surely outweighs the advantage bestowed on me with fewer.”
The fucker did not just say age before beauty.
There were a few faint snickers from the crowd but Welzes either missed the implication or chose to ignore it, for he immediately launched into vehement speech.
“Thisboy,” he snarled disdainfully, making no secret of how he was leveraging his position with the overt emphasis he put on the word, “is not a fit choice for a king. He lacks the experience, the understanding, thegravitasof what it means to lead a people into their golden age. Quareh has the potential for magnificence, my dear lords, and Renato would have you all cower in your homes while you make obsequience to your northern neighbours.
“His single week as your so-calledrulerspeaks for itself. A bloodthirsty Temarian army was allowed to invade your lands,” – I glanced at Val, who looked amused even through the cloth the fuckers had gagged him with – “and the little prince mysteriously disappeared in what I can only assume from the reports meant he was either captured or attempting to flee.”
“That little bit of fun? Nah.” Ren waved a hand. “I was merely spending some valuable time getting to know my northern counterparts. Did you know Prince Valeri’s idea of a first date is taking someone to a flogging?”
My brother’s smirk dropped into a glare.
“Ever the comedian, Renato,” said Welzes contemptuously. “Were the appointments of women to men’s positions such as those of this palace’s herald meant to be a joke, too?”
“Absolutely not,” I spat.
