The Thirteenth Man (22 page)

Somal smiled. “Mr. Chevard, I think we might get along famously.”

“That's all I can ask for.”

They hammered out the details of an agreement and Charlie returned to
The Headsman
not soon after. With grim determination, they set course for Turnlee and the Almsburg Palace.

 

CHAPTER 22

NO LOVE LOST

“I
t's beautiful, isn't it?” Delilah said to Lady Carristan. They were walking in the south rose garden on a lovely spring day, and it felt good just to be out enjoying the flowers and the sun. She plucked a small nasturtium, turned to Carristan, and handed it to her.

Carristan looked pleased at the flower, but, facing Delilah, her eyes suddenly focused over Delilah's shoulder, and she frowned.

“Delilah, my love.”

Del turned at the sound of Dieter's voice and found him closing the space between them with long, purposeful strides. “Dieter, how nice to see you,” she lied. She couldn't leave her chambers without him shadowing her every move; he insisted on monopolizing her time. She'd even resorted to sneaking out of her chambers upon occasion, like today, but he had an uncanny way of finding her.

Dieter marched up to them, waved a hand at Carristan, and said arrogantly, “Delilah no longer needs you. You may go.”

As Carristan curtsied and turned to leave, Delilah wanted to shout,
I'll be the judge of when I no longer need her,
but she bit her tongue, smiled at Dieter, and tried to fake some modicum of warmth. Somehow she had to make this work. Her father and mother had hammered that into her head almost daily. Lucius had squandered his support among the Ten, and now desperately needed Nadama's backing.

For a moment Charlie crossed her mind, and not for the first time she wished she'd been born into a simpler life.

Dieter watched Carristan's back as she walked hurriedly away. “Once we're wed, I think we'll have to replace her.”

Delilah had had enough. “I think not,” she said, unable to disguise her anger.

“Oh, my darling, I've upset you.” He leaned down and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek. “You're fond of her, I know, but she's not appropriate. You shouldn't worry about such things. I'll handle staffing issues.”

Her anger had come to a full boil. “She's not
staff
, and
I'll
choose my own ladies-­in-­waiting.”

He looked at her coldly. “No, you won't.” He took her hand, forced her to put it on his arm, and said, “Come. Let's walk. It's such a fine day.”

The only way she could resist would be to make a horrible scene, so she held her silence and walked beside him, seething with anger.

I'll make this work,
she told herself.
Somehow.

C
harlie struggled to remain awake as the ambassador from god-­knew-­where droned on about the merits and virtues of Lucius and the royal family. The staff of the Almsburg Palace had remodeled the gallery where the Nine had previously sat in the Great Throne Room, adjusting the seating so it now accommodated the Ten. Unfortunately, that put Charlie clearly on display, whereas previously, with no more status than that of a common soldier, he stood in the throng at the far end of the hall, and could even slip out if he knew they wouldn't call on him.

He turned his head slightly to his right for a glance at the other nine dukes and duchesses. Rierma's head had bowed forward, his chin almost on his chest, his eyes closed; Rierma could get away with that. Theode picked at his fingernails, a smug, bored look on his face. Interestingly enough, there'd been no open talk of Arthur's disappearance, though rumors of every imaginable scenario circulated constantly.

“Little brother,” Add whispered in his ear. Charlie cocked his head slightly to indicate he was listening. “If this fool ambassador doesn't finish soon, I'll probably fall asleep on my feet, then tumble forward onto you. Can you catch me?”

Charlie chuckled and whispered, “As you and Ell like to remind me, I'm probably too short.”

“That you are, little brother.”

Charlie suddenly realized that Lucius was saying something. Apparently, the ambassador from god-­knew-­where had finally finished and Lucius was thanking him for his gracious speech. The ambassador bowed, backed away, and returned to the diplomatic gallery. As far as Charlie knew, that was the last order of business for the formal court.

Lucius stood and raised his hands for silence. “I have one last item of business not on the agenda,” he said. One of the other dukes must have visibly rolled his eyes or something, because Lucius quickly added, “No, I shan't delay you further, just a brief, joyful announcement.”

He looked to Adan. She stood and took her place beside him. “It gives Adan and I great pleasure to announce the betrothal of our daughter, Delilah, to Lord Dieter, heir to the de Satarna ducal seat.” Delilah, standing behind and to one side of Adan, looked pale and sick, though not surprised. “The marriage contracts have been signed, and properly recorded in the canonical registry.”

There were no great cheers or shouts of joy, merely a polite round of applause in which Charlie of course participated. The longer the applause sounded, the paler Delilah's complexion grew.

C
harlie had sent a page to Del's chambers with a note asking if she'd receive him, fully expecting to be rejected much as before. But to his surprise, the page returned with a positive response and a specified time later that afternoon when he should come.

He was careful to be prompt, knocking on the door to her chambers at exactly the appointed hour. Lady Carristan answered just as promptly. “Your Grace,” she said, curtsying, then backing away carefully. “Her Highness is expecting you.”

Carristan led him into a large sitting room. Delilah stood at the far end of the room looking out a window, her back to him. She wore a long spring dress with swirls of lavender colored lace. Carristan backed out of the room, though she left the door open so no one could claim the Duke de Lunis had been in the presence of the princess with no chaperone in attendance. Delilah didn't turn to acknowledge him.

Charlie couldn't think of what else to say, so he tried, “Is it Del or Delilah?”

She turned and gave him an almost shy smile. “You know, Del only exists when you're around.”

He crossed the room, but stopped several feet short of her. “I'm so sorry . . . for treating you the way I did. I had the facts all wrong.”

She shrugged a little and smiled more openly. “And I took some pleasure in rubbing your nose in it. But I've had time to cool down, and Lady Carristan helped me see . . . how you might have interpreted the circumstances the way you did.” Her eyes darted upward right and left, a repeat of the furtive gesture he'd seen before.

He said, “And Carristan told me you're being watched closely.”

She shrugged. “It was naughty of me to run away and hide, and to consort with undesirable individuals.”

“So you'll forgive me for being an idiot?”

Shaking her head, still smiling, she said, “You men are always such fools. Of course I forgive you.”

“I didn't ask your forgiveness for being a fool, rather for being an idiot, which I'll try not to do again. But I fully intend to continue making a fool of myself over a beautiful woman.”

The smile disappeared. “Not over me. I'm betrothed.”

“So you'll marry Dieter?”

“I must,” she said. “Nadama is too powerful, and my father says he needs continuing support from de Satarna.” She turned again to look out the window.

Charlie thought of the scenario Arthur had outlined for him some time ago: Dieter marries Delilah, Lucius dies in the not-­too-­distant future, and heirless Martino has an accident. It was all too plausible, and all too easy.

But Charlie could change that, and he'd thought carefully about his next move. He had the legal authority to determine Delilah's choice of a husband, a right purchased properly long ago. All he need do was bring it to the attention of the rest of the Ten, and the betrothal of Delilah and Dieter would instantly be null and void. There would certainly be some sort of recriminations, for he'd seriously anger Nadama and Goutain, either of which could squash him if it came to that. And his motives would also be questioned, but now—­as a member of the Ten—­he was less concerned about that. What mattered was what Del wanted.

“What if there was a way,” he asked, choosing his words carefully, “a way that you wouldn't have to marry Dieter if you didn't want to? What if there was a proper and legal means to force Nadama and your father, without question, to nullify the betrothal? Do you want to marry Dieter?”

As she stood looking out the window he could see the back of her neck, her shoulders, her face turned ever so slightly so that he had a glancing view of one cheek, and a single tear that rolled down to her chin. She wiped it away with a finger.

“I'm not merely asking an academic question,” he persisted. “What would you want done?”

Her shoulders rose as she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She spoke carefully. “I came to realize long ago that I was nothing more than property of the crown, and that I'd be married off in a way that was good for the crown. Forgive me for being crude, but I'm valued only for my womb and whatever alliance it might attract. And I've come to accept that, though I don't necessarily like it. But there was always the schoolgirl's hope that I might get lucky, find someone who'd satisfy the needs of both love and state. Or failing that, someone who satisfied the needs of state now, and who might grow in time to satisfy the needs of love. Alas, that's not come to pass. But to marry Dieter, that is my fate and I accept it willingly, though not gladly.”

She turned back to face him, and he wanted to hold her, somehow make it all better. “If such a way truly existed, I think it best if it never came to light. What I want is of no import here. What I must do is fulfill my duty as a member of the royal family. I've been trained for that all my life.”

It was Charlie's turn to hesitate. He could make his own decision, ignore her and try to convince himself that he knew what was best for her. But somehow he knew she would never forgive him for such an act.

He bowed deeply. “As you wish, Your Highness.” He straightened, turned, and left the room.

“W
hat was the whoreson doing here?”

Delilah jumped at the sound of Dieter's shout. She'd been staring out at the garden, wondering if she'd made the right decision, changing her mind back and forth, but in the end, she knew she must do her duty.

She turned to face Dieter and said coldly, “He's a friend. And he came to wish me joy of our union.”

“Tried to talk you out of it, more likely,” Dieter said.

She dared not let Dieter realize how close he was to the truth; he had a nasty streak in him. “Why would he do that?”

“Because he's a mongrel who pretends at nobility, and he wants the crown for himself.”

“He's every bit as noble as anyone else in this room, though I'm beginning to think he's more so, and I'll not stand here while you insult him. And what do you mean by
wants the crown for himself
? That sounds as if you believe that by marrying me the crown will be yours, when in fact it'll be Martino's at my father's passing.”

Dieter's eyes flashed with guilt, like a child caught in the act of stealing a sweet. He clumsily tried to avoid her question. “You imply that he's nobler than me?”

She saw it now, and she absolutely wouldn't let him evade her. “I asked you a question and you'll answer me. What does my marriage have to do with the crown?”

“Is something wrong, Your Highness?”

Dieter turned at the sound of Carristan's voice. She stood in the doorway behind him, and when he saw her he stormed toward her, clearly in a rage. Her eyes widened fearfully and she backed away. “Out of here, woman,” he snarled, his voice sounding like the growl of a predatory animal. “Get out of here.” She backed away a step and he slammed the door in her face.

“Don't you speak to her that way!” Now, in private, Del was free to shout at him in turn.

He turned and marched back to her, small bits of spittle flying as he shouted at her. “I'll speak to her any way I want. And you'll start obeying me as you properly should.”

“Obey you?” she scoffed. “I don't know what kind of marriage you think this is going to be, but if you think you're going to get an obedient servant for a wife—­”

His face reddened and he lunged toward her, reached out, and grabbed her upper arm in a painful grip. “Don't ever countermand me.”

“Let go of me,” she said. “You're hurting me.”

“This isn't hurting you. When I want to hurt you I'll—­”

“Release me, you arrogant pig.”

She wouldn't have thought his face could redden further, but it turned absolutely crimson. Then he raised his hand up and back, and she realized he was going to strike her.

“Your Highness!”

Carristan's squeak surprised them both and they froze. With his hand still poised to strike her, Dieter looked over his shoulder. “That woman again.”

He released Del, spun, and marched toward Carristan, pointing at the door and shouting, “Get out, get out.”

“Don't leave me alone with him,” Del pleaded.

Carristan stood her ground, trembling with fear as Dieter towered over her shaking with fury.

“Get out,” he snarled.

Carristan's voice wavered as she said, “No.”

Dieter spun around, looked at Del with murderous hate, and in that moment she realized if Carristan did leave, she would be in true danger.

“Lady Carristan,” Del said, “please don't leave. And Dieter, please
do
leave.” It took all her willpower to keep this polite, to not simply yell until the palace guards descended on them. The poor guardsmen would be caught between the heir to one of the most powerful ducal seats and a hysterical royal princess. And all that would come of it would be a nasty scene and embarrassment for them all. Only the mantra
For my father, for my family . . .
kept her in check.