The Kingmakers(48)

Adele stood as quickly as she could muster to put him at ease, but it was just pretense. She was weary, and it wasn't from fencing practice. She wiped her perspiring face with a towel. “If I look old to you now, what happens when I'm sixty, but you still look the same?”

“Nothing will happen,” he replied with no hint of falseness. “I will still be here. I only said it because you seem to be suffering. Should I not tell you?”

“No. I want you to say something if you think there's a problem. You just could tell me in a nicer way.”

Greyfriar responded, “I adore you, and you look very tired.”

“That's better.” Adele laughed and handed his rapier back.

He swept the sword back into its scabbard. “There is one more thing that I learned from Flay that will impact us.”

She groaned. “Yes?”

“My father is dead.”

Adele heard an unusual catch in his voice, and her heart dropped. She took him in her arms. “Oh Gareth, I'm so sorry. I know he meant a great deal to you.”

“Once, he did. But he hasn't been that person for a long time.” He put his arms around her. “His death wasn't unexpected, but it complicates the immediate future. On the other hand, it gave me the perfect sparkling object to dangle in front of Flay. I told her that I intend to kill my brother and become king.”

Adele pulled back with eyes full of surprise.

Greyfriar quickly held up a calming hand. “It's merely a ploy. Flay has dreamed of being my war chief for centuries. She's more likely to give me what I want if she thinks that great prize is looming on the horizon.” He paused to think. “If I have the chance to kill Cesare, I will. But odds are he will be heavily guarded at all times from now on.”

“Well, in any case, you're not likely to see Cesare any time soon, are you?”

“Yes, actually. He has called a coven in London to choose a new king.”

“You're not going, are you?”

“I must.” He pressed a finger against her lips as she began to argue. “Adele, there is no need. We both have our duties that we can't avoid. No amount of worrying will stop them. And whether I go or not, the outcome will be the same. My brother will be king, and my days of freedom in the north as Prince Gareth will be at an end. Cesare will want to have me killed, but I suspect he'd prefer to wait until he is the king so it looks like he won because he's better, not because he was the only choice.”

Adele gasped. “What about everyone in Edinburgh? Morgana and the rest of your subjects? What will Cesare do to them?”

“He will obliterate them.” Greyfriar took a long breath. “I need to move them out of harm's way before he is crowned. After I get what information I can from Flay, I will return to Edinburgh to help my people. Most I will send into the countryside, into the Highlands, where they will be somewhat safer at least. There are desperate times ahead.”

Adele wanted to ask Gareth to stay in Alexandria, not to return to the north, not to meet with Flay again, and certainly not to go back into the domain of his brother. She knew, however, that he wouldn't listen to her, and more, she could never ask it. He was a prince, and a decent man. He had obligations that were more important than risk to his life. She knew that all too well.

Adele almost offered to protect his subjects with her geomancy but realized she couldn't stay with them for any extended time. It would be safer for them to evacuate. At least that way they still had a fighting chance to build a life.

Instead, she said, “Don't worry. We'll think of something. I won't leave those people in Edinburgh to your brother's good graces. Shall I cancel my appointments today? Would you like to be together?”

“I've made a peace of sorts with my father's death. Don't alter your plans. Anything that pushes the war forward is important, so attend your meetings. We'll see each other later.”

“We will. In fact, come to me late this afternoon. I have arranged a gift for you.”

“What is it?”

“This afternoon.” Adele kissed him on the cheek, holding her embrace for a long moment. Then she strode from the roof. She knew Greyfriar was watching her, so she was careful to hold her head high and not show any of the frailty she felt.



Adele sequestered herself within her small garden located on the northern side of the palace. The meeting with the War Materiel Committee had finally come to a bickering halt, and she was relieved to have just over two hours before her next official function, this time with the Phoenix Society, an organization of Equatorian matrons of influence, at the newly erected War Memorial. Her brother, Simon, would meet her here in an hour. Until then, Adele was determined to have a quiet moment, desperate to meditate and forget momentarily about the terrifying prospect of Gareth returning to London. Kicking her shoes off with decadent abandon, she settled into a long chair beneath a lemon tree and stretched out her legs with a sigh. She lay utterly still for a few minutes, just because she could, although she half expected a knock at the gate from someone clamoring for her attention.