“What’s the point of gaining peace if it costs us our freedom? I won’t trade the one for the other.”
He took a step forward. “Listen to me, Jaron. I’m trying to warn you.”
“And I’m warning you. Do not bring war to my country. Either from your own forces or from pirates working in your stead!”
This time when I mentioned the pirates, I saw a flash in his eyes, something he wasn’t able to control.
He knew. I was sure of it.
“Your Majesty?” Gregor Breslan, captain of the Carthyan guard, emerged from the chapel and approached with caution. “Where have you been? Is everything all right?”
Gregor looked exactly as a captain of the guard should. He was tall and muscular, with dark hair and a stern face that communicated his serious nature. He also had a close-cut beard that I’d heard he grew to cover battle scars from years ago. Gregor was highly competent and intelligent enough, but also a bit of a wart. We pretended to tolerate each other’s failings, and frankly, he was trying harder at it than I was. I completely blamed him for being so grating. But to be fair, it wasn’t his fault now for coming at exactly the wrong moment.
Still facing the Avenian king, I said, “It seems our privacy is at an end. I hope your back feels better, unless a sore back keeps you from invading me.”
Vargan laughed. “Give me no reason to invade, young king. Because if you do, a little back pain won’t stop me.”
We shook hands, then I gestured to Gregor and said, “Walk with me.”
He fell in step at my side as we crossed the expansive courtyard. “But the funeral —”
“Is nothing but good theater for nobles unable to love anything but their own reflections.”
“It’s not my business to tell the king how he should behave at his own father’s funeral, but —”
“You’re quite right, Gregor. It isn’t your business.”
Beside me, I could feel his temper boil, but in a carefully controlled voice he said, “What did Vargan mean about giving him no reason to invade?”
“He made me an offer. In exchange for a promise of peace, he wants some of our land.”
“A heavy request. But it always worked for your father.”
“It does not work for me. We will defend the borders of this country!”
“With what army? Your Majesty has sent nearly every man that could be spared down to Falstan Lake, for no other apparent reason but to take earth from one area and leave it in another. It’s a waste of manpower and an unnecessary decision.”
Actually, it was a tactical decision for a fallback plan if war did come to Carthya. I had wanted to share the plan with Gregor and my regents, but Kerwyn had cautioned me against it. The regents already questioned my competence as king. Kerwyn felt this would only reinforce their doubts.
“Bring the men back to Drylliad,” Gregor said. “I need them here.”
“Why? To shine their shoes and march in formation? What good is that to anyone?”
“Respectfully, sire, if we’re asking questions, then I might wonder why you’re wearing a vigil’s cloak, and why you’re hiding your arm.”
I stopped walking and faced him, but huffed extra loudly to be sure he heard me. Then, with some reluctance, I unfolded the cloak so he could see my bandaged arm. Most of my sleeve below the bandage was colored by blood that had soaked into the wet fabric.
At the sight of it, the muscles on Gregor’s face tightened. Still staring, he said, “You were attacked.”
Another brilliant deduction from the captain of my guard. Even through Imogen’s bandage, the wound’s exposure to air sharpened the sting, so I covered it again.
“Two pirates got inside the castle walls,” I explained. “Vargan must have helped them somehow.”
“Do you know this for a fact?”
“Yes.”
“And you have proof?”