The rain had fallen heavy for days after the death of the queen. Questions hummed in the court, under the surface and lethal as a virus. None were brave enough to ask them though. Not with the Vittamar family in complete power now. Without even tempered Ervig to restrain them, they were dangerous beyond words.
Tulin Odovacar trotted into the grand hall where the throne sat vacant. Nobles drank and spoke in hushed tones, waiting for the boy king to emerge with his uncle. Theodric turned towards Tulin as he moved with casual charm towards him.
“Well?” Theodric prompted, taking a sip from his cup.
Tulin smirked, scanning the crowd gathered and nodding towards acquaintances. “They will have it.”
Theodric sighed, heart pounding. The volatile Hania Vultuff would certainly not once she heard what they had done. The deal they had made with the Vittamars. But it would do for now, to keep them safe until news of the birth of her child came to court.
“If the babe is a girl, no harm done. Lady Hania may even thank us for our efforts,” Tulin chattered as though he were discussing a change in the weather, “if it is a boy, we can always rescind our offer.”
“If they will let us.”
“They'll have to.”
Theodric shook his head, “Only by blood.”
With a shrug, Tulin set his empty cup down on the nearby table. “You want to be a Kingmaker, there is only one way to do such a thing. With blood.”
Theodric arched an eyebrow at the man. He didn't trust Tulin. Not after word of his dealings with the Vittamars. He was certain Tulin had been a part of the scheme to murder the queen. It made him all the more confident that leaving Hania with Argath at Gegar Red had been the proper choice. Tulin wore the colors of both houses, changing his tune depending on whoever he was with at the time. It was how he had survived so long at court.
“Your father would be proud to see you here if he were still alive,” Tulin commented.
Theodric scoffed but didn't reply. He knew Sidimund would have locked him in a carriage and sent him back to Gegar Red. Hidden him from court and any one outside of his estate. His father never understood his gift as Argath did. Since he was sixteen years old, Sidimund had never been proud, only ashamed of him.
The crowd hushed and parted. A shrill trumpet filled the hall, the ornate golden wood walls decorated with pine branches for the winter festivals, their sharp green scent spicing the air. “His royal highness, Ardaric Vittamar and Regent, the Grand Duke Sigibald Vittamar.”
The prince was small for his age. His black curls, grey eyes and rich brown skin spoke of his mother's lineage. She had been from the southern mountains, down on the furthest coast to the east. His facial features, dollike and innocent, were all his father.
The Vittamars looked nothing like their vicious reputation suggested. Sigibald was of medium height and small boned, large eyes and a delicate nose. Thin lips like a snake. His peppery hair was thinning and combed into a thin queue at the back of his neck.
Sigibald did not look at them as the two passed by. The child was grave faced, still probably in mourning for his mother. Theodric winced at the pang of sympathy for the boy. How little he knew that his own family was to blame for her death.
They approached the high seat. An attendant helped Ardaric up into the throne, his feet swinging over the edge. His uncle stood next to him, expression as placid as water on a windless day. He clapped his hands together, shooting a calm smile around the room.
“We are pleased to make a joyful announcement, even midst the grief we all carry for the loss of the queen.” He squeezed the boy's shoulder. Theodric swore he saw the child shrink under Sigibald's hand as though trying to escape him. “Though it will be a few years till we celebrate the union, we are pleased to announce King Ardaric's betrothal to Lady Emalia Vultuff, daughter of the late Sidimund Vultuff of Highfire.”
Polite applause and a simmer of whispers responded to the statement. Theodric kept his hands clasped behind his back. Sigibald nodded towards him, a hint of a smirk dusting his slit of a mouth. Theodric could almost feel the claws under his knuckles, he imagined them emerging and sinking them into the man's neck. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, silencing the impulse firmly.
“Now all we have to do is tell her mother,” Tulin murmured.
Theodric sighed. “You say that like its the easy part of this whole debacle.”
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