Blood of the Underworld(4)

Yet, at least Alyssa he could understand, given her belief at the time of her son’s death. Women did strange things when facing loss. This Lord Victor, though...

“You sure he has no family?” he asked Gerand.

“Quite sure, unless he has kept them in secret.”

The King scratched at his neck. He wore his finest robes, lined with velvet and furs that were dyed dark reds and purples. It’d been too long since he had worn it, and it itched. Still, he wanted to show this upstart noble his wealth, to remind him of his regality and his divine right to rule all of Neldar.

“What about a son? Or a daughter?”

“Forgive me, milord, but I do consider that family, and as I said, he has none.”

Edwin shot Gerand a glare, and he bowed low in apology.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I did not mean to speak with so harsh a tongue.”

“Try not to do so again.”

He might have made a stronger threat to someone else, but Gerand had served him loyally for years. Any threat would have been false, and both knew it. He was too important to lose. But again, it showed Gerand’s true nervousness. Why? What was it about Lord Victor that worried him so?

“You’ve met him before, haven’t you?” he asked.

Gerand nodded, adjusted the collar of his shirt.

“My wife’s family lives on his lands,” he said. “I’ve spoken to him only once, but that was enough. He is not a man to forget, my liege, nor take lightly. If he says he will accomplish something, then he will accomplish it, regardless the cost.”

“Then why worry? He’s pledged to clean out the streets. Let him try, and fail.”

Gerand cleared his throat.

“That is the thing. He won’t fail. What he promises is war, like which we have not had in four years.”

The King grunted.

“You mean when that Gemcroft bitch went mad?”

“Yes, like that,” Gerand said dryly.

Edwin leaned back in his chair and drank a tart wine from his goblet. Smacking his lips, he set it down and shook his head.

“If that’s all he plans, then I’ll laugh in his face and send him back out to whatever runty castle he came from. The thieves are like rats, and they’ve grown exceptionally skilled lately at hiding in the walls.”

On the opposite side of the room, at the end of the crimson carpet leading to the raised dais, there came a knock on the heavy doors. The guards stationed there waited for an order. Edwin sighed, rubbed his eyes. Too early. He hadn’t had much to eat, and coupled with the wine, it left him with a sharp headache. Stupid lords. Stupid, naive lords thinking they had every answer.

“Send him in,” he said, his voice echoing down the hall. “But only him.”

Two guards bowed, and then they cracked open one of the doors and stepped out. A moment later, it swung open wide, and in stepped Lord Victor, flanked by the guard. The King studied him as he approached. He was a tall man, lean with muscle. His blond hair was cut short about his neck, his face cleanly shaven. Instead of the expected attire of nobles, he wore tall boots, a red tunic showing the symbol of his house, and a suit of chainmail. A sword was strapped to his thigh, and Edwin felt his ire rise, this time for his guards being dense enough to let him keep it.

“Greetings, my King,” Victor said, smiling wide. Gods he was handsome, his voice strong, confident. It made Edwin sick, and filled him with an irrational desire to slap him across the face.

“Welcome to my home,” Edwin said, not rising. He gestured to the man’s tunic. “I must confess, I have not seen that symbol in many a long year. I cannot remember its meaning.”

Victor glanced down at his chest. Having a family crest go unrecognized would normally be considered an insult, but Victor didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered.

“It is a pair of wings stretched wide before the sun,” he said. “Their gold melds together, as is appropriate. Our wealth comes from the birds of the forest, the fields that grow beneath the sun, and the strength of our kin rising every day, without fail, to do what must be done.”

“You Kanes must be a proud lot,” Edwin said.

For the first time that smug grin faltered, just a little.

“My father was a proud man,” he said. “Proud as my mother was beautiful. A shame you will never meet them.”

“Dead, then?” Edwin asked. He sensed disapproval, and that made him continue. He liked making Victor uncomfortable, reminding him that he was in charge of everything, even their conversation. “Accept my condolences. If you are the last of their line, I hope you are busy finding yourself a wife.”

“In time,” Victor said. A hard edge had entered his voice. “Though matters here must be settled first before I take a lovely bride’s hand in marriage. As a child, Veldaren was my home. Now I return, and I wish it to be my home again. But one does not move into a house full of rats and turn a blind eye to their droppings.”