The Kingmakers(15)
The king's meal was dragged out and the door shut, leaving father and son alone.
“I'm a war king now too. Perhaps once I get affairs settled here, I will visit the front. I may even lead an attack.” Cesare rose and crossed to his father's bedside. “Oddly enough, I've enjoyed these months we've spent together down here. But it will have to end soon. I'll have to use your death for my benefit. That's something I learned from you, planning, calculating, staying ahead of your enemies, and your friends too. Never trust anyone, as you trusted Gareth. And he deserted you in the end.”
Cesare patted Dmitri's dead arm with cold comfort. “What to do about Gareth? I know I should kill him, but that would create trouble now when I need it least. I don't want some of the old clan lords getting their backs up about who is or isn't the proper heir. You always favored Gareth, but he is unsuitable to be king. There's something false about him. No one else notices, but I smell it. He's all artifice. I'm real, Father. You'd see that now if I hadn't killed you. I'm your true heir, and I will unite the clans in a way even you could not. You'll see. I mean, where is Gareth now? Here we are, in a war for our survival, and he is nowhere to be found. What sort of king would he make?”
There was a solid pounding on the door. The prince exhaled in annoyance at being interrupted in conversation with his father. He shouted, “What is it?”
“Lady Hallow to see you, my lord,” came the muffled voice of his chamberlain, Stryon, who always waited outside.
Cesare said, “Very well,” at which the door opened for him to exit and then closed behind him. Several of his vicious retainers moved in front of the door. They had constant orders to allow no one to see the king except Cesare. The prince went quickly to his conference room, a massive ballroom with festering old chandeliers cluttered with bones. The floors and walls were clotted with dried blood from decades of feasting. Lady Hallow rose as Cesare entered. Her slender figure bowed with a rustle of her scarlet gown. The moonlight reflected in her blonde hair, and her blue eyes gleamed in the dark.
Cesare boldly let his eyes rove over her. “I hope you bring me good news from the continent.”
“Word of your skill and imminence is spreading among the clans. King Lothaire of Paris is prepared to join the Grand Coalition of the North. And he will bring several notable clans with him.”
The young prince smiled and relaxed. “That's excellent. Excellent. I've received messages from Flay at the front that, with additional packs, she can destroy the humans utterly. How quickly will the Paris packs move south?”
Hallow's lustrous features went stiff. “It isn't quite so simple, my lord. King Lothaire is eager to be a part of the new era, but he made it clear that he will only ally himself with a king. He demands to meet with your father.”
Cesare replied coldly, “He realizes that my father is indisposed and I speak for him?”
Hallow inclined her head with a wan smile. “I tried to make him understand. He felt it would be injurious to his prestige, which is tenuous at best, if he appeared to be subservient to a prince.”
Cesare sneered. “Lothaire is an idiot. He's always been an idiot.”
“He was always a close friend of Prince Gareth's,” Hallow said hesitantly. “I suppose there is no way you could ask your brother to intercede?”
The prince glared at her. “No.”
“Merely a suggestion.”
“Even if I knew where Gareth was, he plays no part in the future of this clan. Did Lothaire say anything about Gareth to you?”
“No, my lord.”
Cesare continued to stare at her. “Are you sure, Hallow? Did Lothaire mention that he would deal with Gareth, but not with me?”
“No, my lord. Prince Gareth never came up at all. King Lothaire knows that Gareth is in virtual exile.”
“So, Lothaire wants only to treat with a king? And then his packs will be mine? With them we can win the war.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Cesare paced, his compact form dwarfed by the large room, with his footsteps ringing in the expanse. Finally, he paused. “Very well, then I must announce with great sorrow the passing of King Dmitri.”
Hallow started. “My lord?”
“Yes, His Majesty has expired. It's all a terrible shock.”
“When was this?”
“Earlier today. Tomorrow. Last month. Really, what does it matter? I say the king is dead, and so he is. I will call a coven for the next full moon to name the new king. Then we can draw Paris into the Grand Coalition and get on with the war before damned summertime.”
“What about Prince Gareth?” Hallow asked.
“What about him?” Cesare asked sharply. “I'll send a message to his chamberlain in Edinburgh. Baudoin is the only person who ever knows where my brother is.”