The Lords of Valdeon (21 page)

"We prepare for the funeral of our fallen king, and his subjects use the opportunity to bicker and fight." Wolf paused to look each one of the feuding men in the eye. "East and West are not to meet together outside of my presence. Now, get out."

Wolf left them as quickly as he appeared, not waiting for the men to move. He was a man used to being obeyed. The western landowners shuffled out like whipped dogs. Inside the meeting room, the eastern landowners huddled together whispering frantically. Their voices stopped abruptly when Julian entered. Many of his supporters were in attendance. He'd spoken to them each secretly before leaving San Leonora and knew their leanings. Others, newer faces from the eastern provinces, he was unsure of. Care would have to be taken.

"Please, gentlemen, please take your seats. Let us not stand on formalities at such a time." Julian moved to the front of the group and helped Zoya to a chair. "We are countrymen. My father's death impacts us all, as does the loss of the Lion Ring. Long have I worried this day would come. I have warned our chancellor and the Lords of Valdeon to be ready, but they have ignored my pleas."

Rumblings of discontent from his supporters fed Julian's confidence, but still their small numbers weren't enough to see him upon the throne. Observing the crowd for the newcomers' reaction, Julian hesitated. They seemed too frightened to seek favor from him. Could it be they hoped he would be their savior? The thought brought him a momentary rush of pride. He squashed it again. The Sarcion enjoyed bouts of pride too much. It could easily take advantage of such things.

"What was your counsel to them, my lord prince?"

One of his more fervent supporters, a low-level estate owner named Orryo, nearly jumped from his chair. He gave an imperceptible nod to Julian. This man was ever hungry for power. In circumstances like this he was valuable, but his ambition made him far too bold at times. No matter. Julian was easily rid of nuisances. Marcellus was anxious to continue practicing his unsettling hobby on humans. A word would send Orryo to the forgotten bowels of the palace never to be seen again.

Julian stretched out his arms, palms up in the perfect impression of a martyr. "Think upon the facts, my friends. The Lion Ring has been lost, and the Jalora refuses to reveal its location. The Orb is dark with death while the throne room's golden doors have hidden away the Altar of Providence." He waited for their fear to fester. "I believe these dark days have come upon us for a reason. The Jalora has lost faith in Valdeon."

"But, the Sacred Guard…" One of the newcomers rose from his seat, voice and hands shaking.

Julian shook his head with a surprising sensation of actual family shame. "My family has brought this disgrace upon San Leonora. First my uncle, a bishop in the Jalora's legion, was banished from Valdeon in disgrace. Then my father, the king, abandons his people for some unknown shame. It is up to me to save Valdeon and restore honor to the D'Antoiné name."

"What does the Wolf say about all this, my lord prince?"

The newcomer had found his voice, but he wasn't singing the tune Julian wanted to hear. His other comrades nodded, their faces full of adulation for the lord of San Rudalfo. Wolf. He had the peoples' trust. It was the leader of the Sacred Guard who ruled Valdeon, not the doddering old fool of a chancellor. Wolf had just become his biggest obstacle to the throne. He had to be taken care of, and quickly.

Chapter Fifteen

Violence. Its destructive energy radiated from the drunkard charging toward him. Wolf stood perfectly still, blocking the fool's entrance into the Grand Atrium. Basilio, his squire, held a wary hand upon the hilt of his sword. Disciplined to the point of obsession, Basilio waited for his lord's command. He would lay down his life without question for Wolf. Such a sacrifice would be unnecessary today. Neither ranger nor squire were willing to draw their weapons this close to the Altar of Providence without cause. The sloppy drunk blundering toward them didn't warrant a weapon. Instead, he'd get a nasty beating.

"Die De Vincente pig!"

Basilio marched two steps forward to stand between the fool and Wolf. Drawing his blade, Basilio had his own plans for violence. A squire had many duties to endure on behalf of his lord. Defending his ranger's honor against insult was a matter of professional pride. Basilio was known as the deadliest blade in the Squire's Corps. His vengeance would be swift.

Ribbons of ash exploded into the corridor. They surrounded the approaching attacker in rapid streams too quick for human eyes to see. Two rangers grabbed the drunkard's body, disarming him and throwing his body to the ground. They were from Valdeon's eastern plains. One, tall and lean, bore the Owl Ring. His companion was a thicker man with a rugged look about him. He wore the Griffin Ring.

"Another troublemaker." Owl pulled the drunkard to his feet. "Where does the bastard prince find them all?"

Griffin picked up the man's dagger. "No crest or other markings. Julian's hiding his tracks."

"Take him to the dungeon with the rest. Question the fool when he sobers up. I want to know who encouraged him to attack a member of the Sacred Guard."

"Yes, sir."

Basilio flicked his blade at the side of the drunkard's head before the rangers could take him away. The man screamed as his ear bounced off his shoulder and onto the ground. Owl gave a hiss of alarm, but kept any objections he had from his lips. No one dared question a squire to the Lords of Valdeon. In many ways, they were more powerful than any soldier in the Valdeon or UR Armies.

Wolf nodded to Basilio and then turned to enter the Grand Atrium. Valdeonian dignitary filled the glass structure. Their murmurs of insincerities were deafening. Missing were the tales of friendship Edmund the Leo had cultivated from every corner of Andara. In his haste to squash rumors, Benito had not allowed time for Edmund's allies to attend his funeral. Many among the legion and Andara would not take kindly to the offense.

Cesar, Fausto, and Jorge were deep in conversation beside the exterior wall. Probing them quickly, his suspicions about more bangtail mischief were confirmed. The rangers had spent their morning breaking up fights and stopping vandals around the palace grounds. It would seem they were not alone in the struggle to keep the peace.

Wolf crossed the distance to join them. "You've seen some trouble, my friends?"

"Problems from our eastern cousins. I'm having difficulty keeping tempers from flaring. Young Herbert was lured into an empty section of the palace. His father and brother found him unconscious. He's in hospital now with a missing hand. Naturally, they are out for blood." Cesar shook his head. "It pushes the bounds of decency anyone would dare such a thing during our nation's tragedy."

"Who can understand such evil? The other rangers and I are prepared for skullduggery."

The atrium's growling murmurs subsided to hushed whispers. Julian D'Antoiné, Prince of Valdeon, stood at the entrance. Dressed in his favored black, he wore a sash of red. Its cheery hue proved the disdain he held for his father better than any word or action.

Marcellus De Costa, Julian's rabid dog, trailed behind him. Mad eyes darted around the room until they found Wolf. He whispered urgent words into his master's ear. Julian's attention rested upon Wolf and his friends for a moment. Then he gave Wolf a curt nod and headed into the crowd.

Zoya No-Name detached from her brother's arm. Coming closer, she tossed Cesar a small bundle wrapped in linen. Her smile was wicked when she saw him open the cloth. Puckering her lips in an insolent kiss, she hurried back to Julian's side.

"Curse the savage harlot!" Cesar spun his aging body around to go after her.

Wolf well recognized the determined scowl upon his old friend’s face. He'd charge in amongst Julian's allies without thought for his own safety. Cesar may have been advanced in years, but he still had the heart of a warrior. Jorge pushed away from the pillar and came to grip his lord's arm. Fausto moved between them and the eastern lords lingering at the edge of the crowd.

"Please don’t, for Edmund’s sake, my lord." Jorge held tightly to Cesar’s arm until the older man reluctantly nodded.

Jorge handed the cloth to Wolf. "It's Herbert's finger. I've heard rumors of the games Julian's she-devil plays, but hadn't realized she could cast her spells so quickly."

Wolf nodded his thanks to Cesar’s former squire. The Pacarro tribesman remained fiercely loyal to his former ranger, though he had been released from service long ago. Five men loyal to Julian blanched under Wolf's gaze and disappeared into the crowd. Jorge's intervention had ruined at least one of Zoya's games.

A light touch rested on Wolf's arm. Love. Devotion. Dignity. They radiated from Dulcina De Vincente in waves, wrapping around her husband to strengthen him. Her very presence brought the beauty back into his heart in an instant. He lifted her hand gently to his lips. Dressed in widow's black, she paid homage to Leo. Her long hair had been braided in an intricate pattern stretching to her waist. Twisting among the strands of hair were ribbons of burgundy — his favorite color. Another hint of cheer had worked its way out from under her collar. It was a string of tiny blue beads formed into a crude necklace. Their little ones had made the present and given it to Dulcina for her birthday. She always wore it, even in the Palace of Kings.

Several ladies stood behind her. They too were dressed in black, showing Leo respect due him as King of Valdeon and a Jalora bishop. The women were known as Ranger Wives, picked and drawn to their rangers by the Jalora itself. Strong, intelligent, and devoted, their loyalty to their husbands was unshakable. Every ranger blessed the day his wife was sent to him.

Wolf's eyes drifted back to his own lovely bride. The other Ranger Wives followed Dulcina not because she was wife to a Lord of Valdeon, but for her own merits. Heralded as one of the greatest soloists on Andara, Dulcina used her voice for supporting many social causes as well as making heavenly song. He had been a confirmed bachelor for many years until he felt the touch of her hand. His heart belonged to only her.

"Cesar seems troubled, my love." She gave their old friend a fond smile. "Fausto. Jorge, how good it is too see you."

"I am far too irritable today." Cesar snatched the gruesome linen package from Wolf and tossed it behind him.

Wolf kept her hand in his and gave it a little squeeze. "Julian's friends are stirring up trouble, my love. I fear they will be outspoken in their objections during Leo's funeral."

"Julian has them ready to riot, I'd guess." Fausto's typical grin was missing. Anger replaced it.

"I suspect his plans may be far more subtle." Jorge ran his eyes across the crowd. "It would help his cause if the West was the first to draw more blood."

Dulcina let a sly smile cross her face. "I believe you may be right, my clever Lord Pacarro. Have you noticed the Ranger Wives are the only ladies present? I have it on good authority Prince Julian has ordered the ladies of court to leave San Leonora for the country estate of one of his allies. The only woman he will have near him is his half-sister."

Wolf shivered slightly as the Jalora's power ran along his spine. Prickles of warning lifted the hair on his arms. He hoped the other Lords of Valdeon were paying attention. Julian couldn't be trusted and would dare anything to take the throne. Edmund, the fool, had grown too bold in his dalliances with women. He had not waited for the Jalora's wisdom in choosing a bride. The black-hearted viper roaming the palace halls was a result of his disobedience.

"Perhaps, my love, the legion should leave intelligence gathering to our wives? You honor our house." He leaned closer to his squire waiting patiently for orders. "Basilio, tell Owl and Griffin the Lords of Valdeon fear a threat to our families. Have the Ranger Wives guarded. None of them are to wander about alone. Understood?"

His squire bowed low and hurried away. Heaven help any who tried to stop Basilio. Though he would never show his foul mood to his lord, others often suffered the brunt of it.

"May I escort you into the Great Hall, My Lady De Vincente, since this husband of yours must parade about with the other rangers?" Cesar took Dulcina's arm. "I warn you, Wolf. I may have Dulcina's heart by the time you've finished with the pomp and circumstance."

Dulcina gave the old ranger a kiss on the cheek. "You are the very essence of flattery, Cesar."

She and the other ladies entered the Great Hall. Their three escorts stayed close beside Dulcina, not just for the pleasure of her sweet company, but to protect her as well. He was grateful to them. If anyone tried to harm her, even the Jalora could not stay his hand.

Fausto reappeared at the doorway. Anxiety. Rage. Disbelief. They radiated from his old comrade's typically jovial energy. Something was wrong. Wolf cleared his mind and let the Jalora come to him. Yes. He could feel them now. Their hungry ambition was taking an ugly turn. Wrapping his power about him, he swept into the Great Hall to join Fausto. Shouts and rough shoves filled the room. Violence was moving dangerously close to Dulcina and the other ladies.

Julian sat at the head of the hall with his viper sister at his side. The pleased smile he gave Wolf was a clear sign his treacherous plans were already underway. His confidence was disturbing. The bastard prince's manner didn't contain any of his regular pretense as the grieving son. He knew something hidden from Wolf. It was time to probe the bastard prince whether Benito agreed or not.

"Someone must rule Valdeon until the heir is named. Julian is the last Prince of the D’Antoiné house. We must declare him Regent."

One of the Eastern prefects waved his hand toward Julian. Wolf recognized him. His name was Orryo. An ambitious man from a small province to the south, apparently he'd decided to enrich his station. What better way to move up in the world than to clutch at the Prince’s coattails?

A western prefect, red-faced and patience exhausted, pushed through his comrades to face Orryo. "Esteban is the king’s brother. The duty falls to him."

"You speak of a ghost! The king's brother has not stepped foot on these lands for years. What makes you think he'll come back?"