Turns out that in his drugged stupor the night before, he had merely turned down the wrong corridor and hadn’t stumbled into a completely different wing. In another stroke of luck, his years of rising early enough to train in the wee hours of the morning had ingrained in him the habit of rising before the sun. It was still early enough that the hive of servants weren’t swarming through the hallways yet as he ventured out. He was able to find his room, just as he had left it, down the corridor next to the one he had emerged from, and enter it unobserved by anyone from the Thorne household. He didn’t, as he had hoped, find Arthur.
Sir Arthur Kirin had been a companion to Edmund almost since the cradle. Their fathers had been comrades in arms from their youth, with Galen Kirin rising to become the previous Duke’s second in command. As the new Duke’s childhood friend, it was only natural that Arthur take over for his father, leading the troops of the North in their skirmishes against the Blight. When Edmund had agreed to come on this trip, he had immediately enlisted the young commander’s help. Calm and unflappable in most situations with an open, honest-looking face, it was his job to infiltrate the household staff and gather what information he could from behind the scenes.
That is why, for this trip, he was serving as Edmund’s bodyguard. Neither an honored guest nor quite a servant, he wouldn’t make the servants put up their guards but would be largely overlooked by those they served. He would be able to move around fairly freely and slip in and out under their noses.
Last night, while Edmund had been attending the formal welcome banquet, his loyal bodyguard was supposed to be having a drink with the upper servants and getting acquainted with the Steward and Head Housekeeper. He was to gauge the level of control that the Marquess and his family were able to exert over the staff, hopefully identifying some possible sources of information. At the very least, he could convince them that he was a simple-minded and pleasant-natured knight they did not need to be wary around, so they would let down their guard enough to drop some gossip.
Then they would have met up here in Edmund’s room to pool their observations before retiring for the night. When he never returned, Arthur must have guessed that something had happened. The bed in the smaller adjoining room intended for his personal attendant hadn’t been slept in. He assumed that the man had been out discreetly searching all night. Most likely planning to play the hero and save Edmund from himself.
Crossing to his luggage, he rummaged for a moment and pulled a small vial out from the stash of medicines he always carried with him when traveling, downing its contents in one gulp. Gathering up a fresh set of clothing, he went through his morning routine, getting ready for the day and waiting for Arthur to return. Hopefully, the medicine would kick in before that. The conversation with his friend was going to be trying enough without the constant pounding in his head.
As he was fastening the last buttons on his shirt, he finally felt the vise squeezing his temples ease. At the same time, the adjoining door cracked open, and a head with shaggy blond hair appeared, scanning the room. After spotting him, the man opened the door and strode into the room, dropping down into one of the chairs set next to the hearth. After shifting to fit his broad, knight’s frame into the leather wingback, he shot a narrow-eyed glance at his friend and employer.
“So do I owe Baldrick twenty gold pieces now?” The man gave the bed that Edmund obviously hadn’t slept in a pointed look. “You know I placed that bet, counting on your legendary self-control. If you’ve decided to give up right away and marry the girl, you didn’t need to drag me down here.” He turned his disgruntled gaze back to his friend again. “Though I never thought you would skip straight to the wedding night. You could have at least warned me last night so I could have gotten a decent night’s sleep rather than skulking around this sprawling heap of stones looking for you. I expected to find you locked up in some room or other, but here you are, no worse for wear, after staying out all night. Not your usual style at all.” This time, his friend’s look held a glint of humor. “Unless, of course, you’ve changed your stance on ‘fraternization’?” The young Duke’s stance on the opposite sex had become a source of concern for those who depended on the House of Drake. Servants and vassals alike hoped that he would settle down and produce an heir or two soon.
With two of the Cardinal families whittled down to single heirs, and the Thorne’s heir showing no signs of becoming a Spirit Master, the kingdom at large was becoming uneasy. Edmund was still young, and he had only recently taken up the responsibilities of ruling the North, but he knew that he would soon face an immense amount of pressure to marry and pass on the Drake bloodline.
So far, the royal family had remained largely quiet on that front, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before schemes would be played out in an attempt to secure the North. He had even heard rumors that Princess Alexandra, as ever locked in her competition with her brother for the throne, had been quietly contacting nobles in his domain in preparation for a possible trip to the territory. This move from the South was merely the first overt attempt, but it would hardly be the last. He and Arthur had discussed this many times over the past few months, and the man knew his stance very well. He would choose the most advantageous match for the North when the time came, but it would be his choice.
He wouldn’t let others’ plots play out as they wish.
He sighed at that glint of humor in his friend’s eyes. Knowing that his loyal friend had probably been up all night sneaking down passages looking for him, Edmund felt a small pang of guilt over falling for such an obvious trap. “If you had thought to warn me about the drugged wine, I would have made sure that you slept soundly.” His self-mocking tone was meant to reassure his friend that he wasn’t overly concerned. While he may have stepped into the trap, he was fairly sure that it hadn’t sprung in the way that the southerners expected.
The other man’s response was immediate. Edmund raised an amused eyebrow at the curses that spewed from the knight. Settling in the armchair across from Arthur, he leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment. If only he could remember more of what had happened.
His mother had died in childbirth, leaving Edmund to be raised by his father. The old Duke had been a stoic, grim-faced man with a rigid sense of duty. The North and its people would always come first, the Kingdom second, and everything else after. This seemed to have been the mold created for the Drakes through the generations, after the Blight had begun its slow, steady spread. They had left behind the last vestiges of scholarly curiosity and honed their edges to protect their domain. The weight of the responsibility they felt as those entrusted with the fates of their people had forged the Drakes into steel blades, cold and sharp.
Barely a year ago, he had presided over his father’s funeral. The following months had him solidifying his dominion over the North with the ruthless precision of a true Drake. Edmund had prided himself on being a Drake, through and through. He was known for his calm, strategic mind. Being in control was the same as breathing to him.
However, despite his current outward calm, there was a creeping unease spreading through him. Since waking this morning, he had sensed that something was sliding out of his control. This could not be allowed to continue. The situation had become even more dangerous than anticipated.
He quickly filled his friend in on everything he could remember from the banquet last night. When he reached the point in the retelling where the effects of the drug began to take hold and its purpose made clear, his friend couldn’t help but interrupt.
“You drank the wine?” Arthur looked at him in disbelief. “Did you have some sort of plan when you drank it?” There was curiosity and a little bit of hope in his voice. There was no way the brilliant strategist he knew would fall for such a basic trap, could he? When Edmund made no response, only poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher on a nearby table, he openly scoffed. “ You have got to be kidding me. There are squires at the Keep that wouldn’t fall for that!”
“Look, I know. It was stupid, and I was cocky. I assumed there would be some rounds of negotiation before they moved on to outright coercion. I underestimated them. Or overestimated them depending on how you look at it.” He shrugged and tried to move on to the main point.
“Overestimated them? It appears we may have overestimated you!” Arthur couldn’t pass up the rare chance to tease the usually perfectly composed Edmund. For him to still be so calm, he must have found a way to escape their clutches, so he felt more at ease. Otherwise, the young Duke’s fury would have torn the very walls apart.
He patted his friend on the shoulder, then leaned back in his chair, chuckling. “So, where did you find enough ice water to douse yourself with? Say, I wonder if this has anything to do with those vials we found in here yesterday…” His thoughts trailed off as he noticed that the man sitting across from him wasn’t chuckling. Or making eye contact.
In fact, Edmund was looking anywhere but at him. Arthur felt a sense of dread settling over him, and his features darkened as he leaned forward again. “Tell me you didn’t truly fall into the trap! What witch’s potion could they have put in that wine? I’ve seen you walk off chimera poison as if it were nothing!” The big man got up to pace around the room, a hand raking through his hair and gesturing at his friend. “Or did you actually take a liking to the Thorne girl and fell into her clutches willingly? If I had known that you might fall for such a scheming woman, I should have dragged you out to gain more worldly experience when our fathers suggested it.”
Edmund knew he would have to accept a certain level of grief. Growing up together, they knew each other’s personalities well. He knew that his friend would rise from his deathbed to make one last joke at his expense, but would never allow outsiders to take advantage of him. But that didn’t mean he had to accept his friend maligning his tastes so blatantly. Thinking of the coldly sly looks that the Thorne girl had been shooting at him all night, he suppressed a shudder. Then, with a sigh, he pointed at the empty seat and, in a tone that brooked no argument, told him to sit.“I have no idea what poison they fed me, but it did not leave me much chance to escape it once it took hold. And no, I would never willingly step into the coils of this scheming family. That pair resembles nothing so much as a pair of vipers looking for a hole to slither into.” His disdain for the father and daughter was clear in his tone. “I was able to escape the hall and make my way towards safety. But…” He sighed as his friend looked from the perfectly made bed back to him again. “I did not make it. The drug hazed my mind and blurred my vision. I mistook the hallway and ended up spending the night in a different chamber.” He paused for a moment, trying to find the best way to explain his hazy memories. Arthur jumped into the breach.
“So you were able to escape after all. I knew my faith in you wasn’t misplaced! My twenty gold pieces are safe.” The man finally relaxed, leaning back into his chair.
Edmund’s resolve wavered. He let the blissful thought of just ignoring this and letting his friend believe that he had spent the night in an empty bedroom linger for a moment. Could he just pretend none of it had happened? He couldn’t even remember who he had spent the night with. Yes, it was a mark on his reputation if it ever got out, but many noblemen had done much worse. Did he really need to make so much out of it?
A pair of pale hands, marred by scars, flashed through his mind again, stirring that feeling of unease. As if his stomach were tying itself in knots. No, he couldn’t let this fester. He needed to find out who he had spent the night with and assess how much trouble they might cause later. He exhaled heavily and faced the music.
“While I appreciate your belief in me, I would need to know the specifics of your bet with Baldrick before I could tell you the fate of your gold pieces.” He watched the confusion cross the man’s face with resignation. “ I said I spent the night in a different chamber, not that I spent it alone.” He watched his friend tense up again, his mind working to grasp the angles.
“So they won after all?” Arthur sounded disheartened as he asked the question that wasn’t, in reality, a question at all. If they had succeeded in having the heiress to the Thorne family spend the night with the heir to the Drake family, even if the two of them had spent the whole night playing chess, there was no other likely outcome except a marriage.
Possibly, they could attempt to negotiate for a settlement instead, if they could prove the drugging. If not, then the South could demand hefty concessions from the North. Concessions that, with the Blight creeping ever closer, the North could not afford to pay. So in the end, the only real option was for Edmund to marry the little viper.
The knight blew out a breath, ruffling the shaggy blond hair that curtained his face. This might not be the end of the world. If they could use the drugging to force some concessions of their own out of the Thornes. If, by pure chance, the Elders and that sage were correct and that girl could help them drive back the Blight, it might even work out in their favor. Eventually. Maybe Edmund could even divorce the girl someday. If they didn’t have any children. So many ifs.
Edmund watched his friend shake his head after a moment and knew that he had come to terms with the facts before him.
“It all depends on how you measure winning.” He finally responded to his friend’s question. “If drugging me and having me spend the night with a woman is winning, then yes, you could say they did win.” He shrugged, then with a feint smile asked his friend a question. “What does Blanche Thorne look like?”
“Everyone has heard the stories about her. Hair as black as ebony, lips as red as blood, skin as pale as snow. It’s as if the Marquess paid to have tales of his ice princess spread across the kingdom.” He snorted.
Edmond took the strands he had found in the bed that morning and held them up. The strands of long, red hair.
“It looks like we’ll need to locate a blooming rose instead.”
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