The Broken Crown

Chapter 24

WARNING: a lot of blood in this chapter.

Thomas

It had been the longest council meeting that Thomas could remember. To be fair, he had gotten an awful habit of forgetting the strangest of things, but he was quite certain that council meetings stretching into the night, without dinner other than what the servants could bring to them, had to be rather rare. Sadly – almost more sadly than the numbers on the paperwork that Thomas had filled out for that day’s meeting – he expected it would not be rare for much longer.

It had been bad news. It was always bad news. Even the good news was bad. Some minor lord in the southwest had been robbed and his wife raped. They’d spared their lives, gods be good, but they had not left without a message.

The council had not needed to ask what the message was; it had been conveyed before and it was written in the grave faces of the King’s councillors as though with ink. And the young King, still only twenty years of age, had buried his face in his hands and mumbled a curse beneath his breath.

The torches were still alight and in spite of the late hour, some of the court was still awake. It was nearing midnight and he could hear music from the Great Hall. Some years ago, he may have joined the feasting, but tonight, all he could think of was his bed.

“My lord!”

He recognized the voice at once; it was a voice that could still make him smile from time to time. “My lady,” he greeted the fair-haired cousin of the Queen.

Celeste smiled. She still smiled very easily. That much was a blessing at least. “How did it go?” Her voice was hopeful and he could not help but frown. He did not want to involve her in matters of state.

“Do you need to ask?”

For a moment, she looked worried. Then her smile reappeared, bright and happy and innocent. “It’s quite the feast downstairs. They are learning the newest steps. Perhaps you would join me for a dance?”

Thomas chuckled and wondered if it sounded as old and bitter to her as it did to him. “It would make a sight, would it not? The dwarf dancing, and with one of the most highborn ladies at that.”

She smiled, almost proudly. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

He felt tired and old when he shook his head. “No. You should go downstairs, enjoy the dancing and the fun.”

“Alright,” she said with a sigh, backing away. “You truly are missing out.” She turned around and ran down the stairs quickly, throwing glances over her shoulder a couple of times. She quickly disappeared into the Great Hall, followed by two men whom Thomas recognized as the King and his brother.

He sighed to himself. He truly was missing out, but he had too much work to do. His steps echoed in the empty, silent hallways as he began walking, slowly, since he was not in a rush to reach his work chambers and his worries once more. It was rather nice, walking in the silence, looking through the windows onto the moonlit yards of the castle.

Rushed steps broke the silence and he saw a woman hurrying down the hallway in his direction. He recognized her as one of the ladies-in-waiting, lady Anne of House Valior. She was positively paler than usual, although she had never had much colour, and her eyes were wide and dark.

“My lady?” he greeted uncertainly.

She seemed almost shocked that he would speak to her, her steps haltering until she stopped and did a clumsy curtsey. “My lord councillor,” she said politely. “Pardon me, I do not have time to speak.”

Her hands reached to gather up her skirts and that was when he saw it; crimson tainted the white skin of her hands. “Is that blood?”

He would have thought it impossible, but her face paled even more and her eyes widened even further. “What? No.” She hid her hands beneath the skirt of her dress. Thomas was almost ready to believe her; he could’ve seen wrongly and she was, after all, Anne Valior, the prim and proper oldest daughter of the lord of First Landing. She would have been anyone’s last guess at who would be walking the halls with blood on their hands.