Shadow's Edge - Brent Weeks [176]
The nobles snickered.
“Looking to get into the business?” Momma K asked.
You could have heard a feather drop in the sudden silence. Momma K couldn’t care less about their shock. Terah Graesin had greeted Logan with claws out. That wasn’t good.
A young man pushed forward from the crowd. “If you speak like that again, I’ll kill you myself,” Luc Graesin said. He was Terah’s brother, seventeen years old, handsome, and a damned fool.
Oh, Luc, you have no idea. I know your secret. I could end you right now.
Except that she couldn’t. Here, now, wild truths delivered without prelude wouldn’t be believed. Terah Graesin would only dig in her heels. “Pardon me,” Momma K said, “Titles are switching hands so fast recently, I’d forgotten I was speaking to a duchess.”
“Queen!” Luc said. “Your queen!”
Momma K lifted her eyebrows as if he were trying to put one over on her. A little reminder to everyone how far and how fast Terah Graesin was attempting to rise. “But here stands the rightful king,” Momma K said. “Designated heir by King Gunder IX and received by common acclamation. The man to whom you’ve already pledged fealty.” But she knew she’d already lost. She saw it in the defiance, the absolute hatred, in Terah Graesin’s face.
“That’s enough, Gwinvere,” Logan said.
She smiled her acquiescence. She stepped back, her head down, abruptly meek.
“May I remind everyone,” a voice near the maps said, “that tomorrow we face the Godking and his wytches?” It was Count Drake, ever the peacemaker.
“We need no reminders,” Terah Graesin said. “We have our army, we have our battlefield, we have the advantage, and in a few more moments, we’ll have our battle plan.”
“No,” Agon said.
“Excuse me?” Terah asked, indignant.
“You have His Majesty’s army,” Agon said. “My lords, many of you were there at the feast before the coup. Garret Urwer, your father died beside me in the north tower. As did your uncle, Bran Braeton. They died going to save our king, Logan Gyre. You were there—”
“Enough!” Terah Graesin cried. “We know what the mad king said.”
So the king had been insane when he’d designated Logan his heir. It wasn’t a perfect line of attack, but it was good enough. Given time, Momma K would have reminded everyone of the timing of the coup, of the irrelevance of the king’s sanity to the legality of his decrees, and of Logan’s marriage to Jenine. Given time, Momma K could have orchestrated pressure from all sides to get Terah to surrender her claim. Now all that was immaterial. She simply had to wait for the inevitable.
“My lady,” Duke Havrin Wesseros said, “they say only what would be said in backrooms and great rooms throughout the kingdom if there were time. It seems to me that we all have decisions to make now, and little time in which to make them.”
“I won’t hear their lies,” Terah hissed.
“Don’t you see?” Duke Wesseros said. “If you won’t hear them out, Logan will leave, and he won’t leave alone. He’ll take half of our army with him, maybe more. Does anyone fancy taking on the Khalidorans with half an army?”
Closer. But you’re worried about the wrong person leaving.
Agon said, “As you say, the king was mad when he died. The Sa’kagé poisoned him at the feast.”
“Poisoned? You murdered him, Brant!” Garret Urwer cried out.
“Yes, I killed him,” Agon said. “I won’t justify that deed now. What’s important is that Khalidor wished to wipe out the royal family to cause exactly this. They wished to split any resistance before it could begin. King Gunder saw that coming, which is why—not the night of the coup, when he was poisoned, but earlier in the day—he married his daughter Jenine to Logan. Many of you have sworn oaths to Lady Graesin. But your fealty was already owed to Logan Gyre. Thus, you’re released from your oaths to the duchess.”
“I release none of you!” Terah Graesin shrilled.
Pandemonium broke out. Nobles were screaming at each other, gathering in clumps to talk with their advisers and the lords closest to them, some pressing toward Terah Graesin,