A Tale of Two Kingdoms (24 page)

“Who’s that?” asked Ram.

“Someone who
is
a constitutional scholar.”

“You’re thinkin’ about it.”

Ethelred gave his son a look that could have been interpreted as a conspiratorial smile. “Thinkin’ about somethin’.” The phone rang. “Aye.” Pause. “Very well. Show him to my study when he arrives.” He replaced the receiver on the desk unit. “On his way. Should be just ten minutes or so.”

Ram and his da passed the time by talking about Aelsblood’s strengths and weaknesses as king. “Does he no’ ask you for advice then, Da?”

“Ne’er.”

“His loss.”

Ethelred’s eyes sparked a little at that and the corners of his mouth softened.

“Mr. Kilter, I do no’ believe you’ve met my other son, Rammel.”

The dogs lifted their heads to see if they approved of the new arrival, but seeing who it was, did not get up. Rather, they seemed mildly put out to have been disturbed from their nap.

“I’ve no’ had the pleasure, your Highness.” He nodded at Ram.

“Please,” said Ethelred as he motioned to a chair, “sit down. What can we offer you? Tea? Coffee? Scotch?”

Kilter chuckled at the last offer. “If I return to the state’s offices with scotch on my breath, my days in your employ might prove numbered, e’en if I protest that I could no’ say no to the former king.”

Ethelred laughed. “In that case, I withdraw the offer. Tea?”

“Coffee. With a teensy bit of Baileys perhaps. If you do no’ mind.”

That raised both of Ethelred’s brows. He glanced at Ram, who was clearly enjoying the exchange. His da asked for Kilter’s refreshment and then sat.

“This is a matter of strict confidentiality, Mr. Kilter. May we count on you to keep your cards close to your vest?”

“Certainly, Your…em, sir.”

“I have a question about succession. When I gave up the throne, ‘twas mine to give, as rights to the office expire with me. Is that correct so far?”

“One hundred percent, sir.”

“Then here is my question for you, as authority on the subject. Does the office remain mine to give or
take
so long as I live?”

Kilter’s eyes immediately began to twinkle. “I see what you are askin’. There’s very little historical precedent, since so few monarchs have e’er passed the kingship willin’ly.”

Ram answered the knock at the door. Mr. Kilter’s tall steamy mug was set before him with a white linen napkin. The three men were silent until they were alone again.

Kilter took a sip. “’Tis excellent, sir. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You were sayin’…”

“Aye. There are few incidents of the throne bein’ passed durin’ the lifetime of the former ruler and, there has ne’er been a case of takin’ it back. Although,” he glanced between Ram and his father, “if you do no’ mind me sayin’ so, if e’er there was a case when such a thin’ was deserved, this situation would get my vote.

“As you know, I’m more than familiar with the law regardin’ succession. I can see no impediment to changin’ your mind, should you wish to take back the throne. Nor is there any legal grounds on which the current king might mount formal protest.”

“Aye. And what about takin’ it back to give it to someone else?”

Ram’s head jerked toward his father as his mind immediately started cataloging who in Paddy’s name the man might have in mind for the job and what it would mean for his family to turn over the monarchy.

Kilter first looked surprised, then pursed his lips. The look of delight was replaced with one resembling worry. “I see no legal impediment barring that either.”

Ethelred stood giving the distinct impression that the meeting was over. “Thank you, Kilter. You’ve been most helpful. Please take the coffee with you and do no’ forget the confidence. Should it be violated, I might have to go medieval after I retake the throne and spike your head to the front gate.”

“Aye, sir. Quite, sir,” Kilter said as the door closed behind him.

Ethelred turned back to Rammel. “Sit down.” The command and the air of authority brought a deluge of memories back for Ram. He took the chair across from his father. That encounter between the two of them was far different than the routine disciplining of a problem child.

Ethelred smiled at Ram openly. “How would you like to be king?”

Ram shot out of his chair like it was on fire. “Me?”

“Sit down, son,” Ethelred said quietly.

Ram hesitated like he was deciding whether to acquiesce to his father’s request to be seated or bolt for the door. He sat. Then laughed.

“Good one, Da. For just a second there, I thought you might be serious,” Ram said, shaking his head.

Ethelred laughed with him. “E’en if you’re thinkin’ ‘tis a very fine joke, I am serious nonetheless.”

Ram shook his head. “You’re no’.”

Ethelred nodded. “I am.”

“Da. That makes no sense. I’m the family fuck up, remember? I’m the
last
person who should be king. You must be feelin’ truly desperate to come up with such a half-assed idea. You do no’ e’en like me. Remember?”

Ethelred’s smile vanished and was replaced by a look of genuine surprise. “Do no’ like you? Whate’er gave you such a thought, Rammel?”

Ram laughed. “A lifetime of disapproval maybe.” The moment those words fell from Ram’s lips, he felt his heart squeeze and eyes start to sting at the same time. He froze, paralyzed with a fear that he might cry tears in front of his father. He began to silently beg his body not to betray him.

Ethelred watched his son closely for a time. “Disapproval of thin’s you did is no’ the same thin’ as disapproval of you.”

“Feels the same, sounds the same, looks the same.”

He sighed deeply. “Aye. Maybe so. I admit it bothers me to know you’ve spent your life believin’ I do no’ care for you.” He got up, stirred the fire, and offered Ram a whiskey, which he accepted. “Rammel, let me ask you this. Have you no’ noticed how much you are like your mother?”

Ram cocked his head. “You mean that my looks favor her? Aye. ‘Tis inescapable.”

“No. No’ just looks. That you
are
alike. You and your mum, to some extent your sister, too. Tepring is everythin’ I’m no’. Colorful. Excitin’. So alive you can almost see currents of electricity sparkin’ off her. She’s the very essence of what it means to be alive.”

Ethelred had an expression on his face that could almost be called dreamy describing the queen. Ram had never heard his father talk about feelings before. He knew his parents were devoted to each other. He hadn’t been entirely sure they were in love, not until that moment.

“I think she’s the most marvelous creature to e’er walk on earth. Now tell me, how could I think so highly of her and, findin’ you much the same, no’ like you, Rammel?”

Ram couldn’t have been more shocked by that confession if his father had admitted to wanting a sex change operation. He rose quickly and went to look out the window because he felt a tear spilling out of his eye. He swore to himself that, if he made it out of that situation with his dignity intact, he would never tease Elora about her crying again. Not now that he knew how hard it could be to control those impulses.

When he had himself under control, he swiped at his surreptitiously and turned back to his father.

“Thank you for sayin’ so, Da. ‘Twas very good to hear. Still, you and I both know I’m no’ the right person for that job. ‘Tis you. You were tryin’ to do the noble thin’, tryin’ to see that your first son had his chance. ‘Tis a shame that…” He decided that didn’t need to be said. His father was already steeping in self-recrimination. “’Tis you, Da. No’ me. Be king of elves. Make peace with the fae. Bless the union with Duff Torquil and brin’ Song home.”

Ethelred pressed his lips together. “That will no’ work.”

“Why no’?”

“Because I’m no’ well.” Ram opened his mouth to ask about it, but his father waved off the inquiry. “Oh. I will likely live long enough to erect a peace with the fae, but no’ until Helm is king. Then we would be back where we are now. Aelsblood does no’ have the character, Rammel. No’ the character. And no’ the honor to do the job as it needs doin’. Must be you.”

“Just hold on. There are too many absurdities flyin’ about the room. First off, Helm king? I’m pretty sure his mum and da do no’ know a thin’ about that and just as sure they would no’ approve. Next, what’s wrong with you, Da?”

Ethelred waved his hand. “Let’s no’ get sidetracked. We have much more important thin’s to talk about.”

“Mum knows?”

“’
Aye. ‘Tis part of the reason why she has a hanky permanently attached to the end of her arm.”

“I ne’er knew you were in love with each other. No’ in a romantic way.”

“Oh, aye. Knowin’ death is no’ just an abstract concept makes you sentimental I suppose. I love your mum more than ‘tis possible to say in words. ‘Tis how you feel about your mate?”

“Aye. Maybe if Blood was mated, this whole thin’ would have been different. Elora is the one who pointed out to me that Song and Duff feel that way about each other. She made me promise to do what I could to help them by sayin’, ‘What if it was us?’”

“When she made you promise to do what you could, do you think that included becomin’ king of Ireland?”

Ram’s heart dropped like it was made of lead. The one thing Elora had always insisted on was that she could never survive palace life again. It had been less than a year and a half since he’d promised her that she wouldn’t have to, that she would never have to so much as set foot inside the palace if she didn’t want to. How could he have imagined in a thousand years that the Fates might contrive a way to make him be forsworn? Honor indeed.

“No. It definitely did no’. But she loves Song,” he said absently. He turned toward Ethelred. “I might like to ask Mr. Kilter a couple of questions if you think he would be so kind as to make the trip back over.”

“I believe he could be persuaded.” Ethelred rose to make the call.

“While you’re doin’ that, I’m goin’ to step out and say good mornin’ to my wife.”

Elora was still in her tank top and pajama bottoms, telling Helm stories while feeding him baby oatmeal, when the phone rang.

“It’s your dad, kiddo.” Helm didn’t look interested in anything except what the spoon was doing next. “Hey. What’s the word?”

“Hey, yourself. Word is I miss you. Do no’ like sleepin’ alone.”

“Same here.”

“What are you doin’?”

“Feeding oatmeal to your son. Telling him stories now before he’s old enough to call them stupid.”

“Ah. So you’re sittin’ down then.”

“I’m guessing that’s a prelude to bad news.”

“Well, aye.”

“Has something happened to Song?”

“I’m guessin’ you have no’ seen the comment Blood made to the press on his way from leavin’ the meetin’ with Torquil? The one where he basically said our sister is on her own and no’ really welcome back and he has no interest in peace with fae?’

Elora was stunned speechless. Almost. “That’s just impossible, isn’t it? I mean he’s no fun, but I didn’t take him for a bad person. Not like this.”

“No’ like this. No one expects the person holdin’ the knife to be her own brother.”

“I don’t know what to say. How are your parents taking this?”

“Em, that’s why I’m calling.”

Ram explained all that had transpired in as much detail as he could recall then he paused. When she said nothing, he lowered his voice. “Elora, I would no’ put you in the position of havin’ to decide if there was a choice, but I made you a promise and will no’ break it. No’ e’en for my sister. I can no’ find a painless solution here, but I have thought of somethin’ that might be a compromise.

“Would you want to hear it?”