The Priory of the Orange Tree (The Roots of Chaos)

“It has,” Sabran said. “We began to think His Most High Majesty would send no representatives.” Find the original chapter at novelceo(.)com.

“My master would never insult Your Majesty in such a manner. King Jantar sends his congratulations on your betrothal, as does High Ruler Kagudo, whose delegation joined us in Perchling.”

Kagudo was High Ruler of the Domain of Lasia, head of the oldest royal house in the known world. She was a direct descendant of Selinu the Oathkeeper, and was thus a blood relative of the Mother. Ead had never met her, but she often wrote to the Prioress.

“Fortunately,” Chassar continued, “Prince Aubrecht had just docked when we came ashore, so I was able to enjoy his good company for the remainder of the journey.”

“We hope to enjoy Prince Aubrecht’s good company for the foreseeable future,” Sabran said.

Some of the maids of honor hid their giggles behind their fans. Lievelyn smiled again.

The courtesies went on, Sabran never taking her eyes off her betrothed, and he never taking his eyes off her. Chassar glanced at Ead and gave her the very smallest of nods before looking away.

Once the audience had reached its end, Sabran invited her guests to the tiltyard to watch the lance games. Challengers would joust in view of a thousand citizens from the city. They just about lost their heads at the sight of Sabran, cheering for the queen who had banished a High Western. She was Glorian Shieldheart come again.

“Hail, Sabran the Magnificent,” they shouted. “Long live the House of Berethnet!” The roars of appreciation loudened as Lievelyn sat beside her in the Royal Box.

“Protect us, Your Majesty!”

“Majesty, we take heart from your courage!”

Ead found a place on the shaded benches with the other ladies-in-waiting and watched the crowd, waiting for a crossbow or pistol to appear in the stands. Her siden was all but extinguished, but she had knives enough for a slew of cutthroats.

Chassar was on the other side of the Royal Box. She would have to wait until after Sabran had retired to speak with him.

“Saint, I thought that introduction would never end.” Margret took a glass of strawberry wine from a page. Two knights-errant lowered their visors. “I do believe Sabran likes her Red Prince. She tried to hide it, but I think she is already smitten.”

“Lievelyn certainly is,” Ead said, distracted.

Combe was in the Royal Box. She scoured him with her gaze, trying to work out whether he looked at Sabran as though she were his queen, or a piece to be moved on a gameboard.

Margret followed her line of sight. “I know,” she said quietly. “He has gotten away with murder.” She sipped her wine. “I detest his retainers, too. For abetting him.”

“Sabran must know,” Ead murmured. “Can she not think of some way to be rid of him?”

“Much as it pains me to admit it, Inys needs his intelligencers. And if Sab ousted him without very good reason, other nobles might feel that their positions were just as fragile. She cannot afford malcontent, not when there is such uncertainty about the threat of Yscalin.” Margret grimaced as the knights-errant broke their lances on each other, drawing a roar from the stands. “Nobles have revolted in the past, after all.”

Ead nodded. “The Gorse Hill Rebellion.”

“Aye. At least there are laws to lessen the danger of it happening again. Once, you would have seen Combe’s retainers strutting about in his livery, as if their first loyalty were not to their queen. All they can do now is wear his badge.” She pursed her lips. “I hate that the symbol of his virtue is a book, you know. Books are too good for him.”

The two challengers wheeled to face each other again. Igrain Crest, who had been talking to a baron, now crossed to the Royal Box and sat in the row behind Sabran and Lievelyn. She leaned down to say something to the queen, who smiled at her.

“I hear Igrain is against this marriage,” Margret said, “though pleased it might yield the long-awaited heir.” She lifted an eyebrow. “She was Protector of the Realm in all but name when Sab was a child. A second mother. And yet if rumor has it right, she would prefer her to be wed to someone with one foot on the corpse road.”

“She may yet get her wish,” Ead said.

Margret looked at her. “You think Sab will change her mind about the Red Prince.”

“Until the ring is on her finger, I think there is every chance of it.”