Seeds of Betrayal (wotf-2) by DAVID B. COE

Author:DAVID B. COE [COE, DAVID]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sf_fantasy

Chapter Nineteen

Solkara, Aneira

Tebeo paced the room restlessly, like a Sanbiri mount held too long in a stable. He looked healthier than he had at any time since the poisoning. His face remained wan and thin-though he had his strength again, he had not yet regained his appetite- but the very fact that he was on his feet once more marked much improvement from just a few days before.

Evanthya watched him, waiting for the questions he had posed every day since that awful night in the queen’s chambers. How was the queen faring? Brail? Fetnalla? The others? It had become a ritual of sorts, a way, no doubt, for the duke to feel that he was more than just another victim of Grigor’s twisted ambition. He was, among all the dukes, the one who had most fully recovered, and though he could not help but be thankful for his good fortune, Evanthya sensed that he felt guilty as well.

Eventually the questions did begin, and the minister told her duke what she knew of the others who had drunk the tainted wine. It now seemed clear that all those who survived the first night after the poisoning were going to be all right. Brail had recovered enough to leave his bed that morning and take a slow stroll through the corridors of the castle. Fetnalla was improving quickly, though she was still weakened, as were most of the other afflicted Qirsi. Even the queen, who hovered near death for so long that many feared she would never regain consciousness, had finally opened her eyes the day before and now appeared to be gaining strength with each hour that passed.

They had been fortunate, if such a word could be used in these circumstances, to lose only the two dukes-Bertin of Noltierre and Vidor of Tounstrel-and the first ministers of Kett, Rassor, and Bistari, all of whom died that first night.

“Has there been any word yet from Numar?” the duke asked, when Evanthya had told him all she knew about Grigor’s victims.

“No, my lord. None. I believe he may be waiting until Grigor’s fate is decided before he formally offers himself as regent.”

“Grigor’s fate was decided the night he poured that wine.”

“Of course, my lord. But he lives still, and so long as he does the house is his to rule.”

Tebeo’s face twisted sourly, but after a moment he nodded. “What do you think he’ll do?”

“I believe he’ll wait until Grigor has been executed, and then he’ll grant our request. If he intended to say no, he would. He only waits because he intends to say yes.”

The duke’s expression brightened somewhat. “I suppose you’re right. Has the queen said when she intends to have Grigor put to death?”

“Not that I’ve heard, my lord. Soon, I believe.”

“I’d like to know for certain. I want to be there. I want to see it.” He took a breath, as if trying to calm himself. “Can you speak with the archminister?”

Evanthya wavered, though only briefly. “Of course, my lord.

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