“When Zachary recovers,” Laren said, “I look forward to seeing him make you accountable.”
“I pray to the gods he does recover,” Colin said, “no matter what it may cost me.”
His demeanor had become very humble, remorseful, and his words rang with truth, even without her consulting her ability. She would never understand the Weapon mentality of Death is honor. It was even more astonishing to her that this man who had dedicated himself to Zachary, Zachary’s father, King Amigast, and his grandmother, Queen Isen, would betray Zachary in this manner. But then, Weapons were mysterious in their ways, and though it was never said overtly, more than being protectors of the royal family and the royal dead, their directive was to guard the kingdom more than the person who ruled the kingdom. Did they construe that directive to mean they could initiate a coup if they deemed it necessary? If Zachary did recover, they needed to have a serious talk.
“Destarion told me,” Laren said, “that Lady ... Queen Estora asked to see me.”
“Yes, Captain, but I wish to be forthright and warn you there has been a good deal of discussion about you.”
“Really.”
Colin nodded. “It is under consideration that you be relieved of duty, at least temporarily.”
“What?” It was Elgin who bellowed out the word. Laren was not surprised.
“At this crucial time,” Colin explained, “we need all of us to be in accord regarding our new queen. We are unsure of your absolute loyalty and we cannot judge your honesty in the same way your ability allows you to judge us. However, we also understand you cannot leave the service voluntarily or under coercion due to the properties of your brooch. Therefore, suspension of duty may be the preferred alternative.”
“After all my years of service?”
“It pains me,” Colin said. “I know how dedicated you are to Zachary and the realm. It is nothing personal, of course.”
Of course not. It was political expediency. There were, Laren knew, other ways to silence her that were far less gentle than suspension. Would her continued resistance force them to resort to other measures? They were quite capable of concealing anything they did to her. There would be lies about her whereabouts. They’d inform interested parties she was not favored by the queen.
“Because I wanted to follow legal protocol you are suspending me?” she asked, her soft tone only underscoring her contempt.
“It is not for me to determine,” Colin replied. “It’s the queen’s decision. Naturally we hope she will express confidence in you, and you will accept all that has come to pass.”
“Good gods,” Elgin muttered. “It’s Gwyer Warhein all over.”
“That was another time, a different situation,” Colin retorted.
Was it really so different? Laren wondered. Gwyer Warhein, captain of the Green Riders two hundred years ago, had been vilified by his king, the paranoid Agates Sealender, for the unspeakable crime of honesty; for telling truths the king hated hearing about himself and his reign. Warhein had been a reader of honesty, just as Laren was—she wore his brooch. It had come to her, chosen her, from across generations of Riders. She fingered it now, the gold smooth and cool to her touch. She tilted her head as she regarded Colin.
She had worked with him long enough to know he was no fool—far from it—and that he was well-versed in history. As much as he’d deny it, he’d see the parallels with the past—not only Laren telling truths he did not wish exposed, but how Warhein’s loyal Riders had rallied to him, had gone into exile with him, despite the threat of royal reprisal. Colin and his conspirators would have deduced that Laren’s Riders would do the same for her. Censuring her by any harsher means than suspension of duty would incur the wrath of her Riders, and the conspirators could not afford to lose them; they could not function without them.
Still, Laren reflected, it didn’t mean the conspirators wouldn’t hesitate to do what was necessary and expedient to silence her if she made too much trouble.
Despite the potential for danger to herself, she could not repress a smile, and the line between Colin’s brows deepened in response.
“Gwyer Warhein is considered a hero today,” she murmured as if to herself. Not only had he resisted a tyrant by telling the truth, but when old, unlamented Agates died without an heir and the realm plunged into the Clan Wars, Warhein and his Riders had helped Smidhe Hillander attain victory, bringing Zachary’s line to the throne, and initiating two centuries of peace and unification. Colin would know all this, too. He could not act without considering the weight of history.
Laren squared her shoulders and straightened her back, proud as ever of her Rider heritage and the brooch she wore. “Gwyer Warhein supported Clan Hillander,” she said. “And so have I. Always. And so will I continue to do.”
“So be it,” Colin replied. “Best not to keep the queen waiting.” He led the way to the bedchamber door and opened it for her, but blocked Elgin from entering.
“It’s all right,” she told her old friend, and she stepped into the room to face her new queen.
DECISIONS
Sunlight flowed into the room as Laren remembered it from the last time she’d been here. Estora stood there conferring with a mender. The light turned her skin to pale marble and her mourning clothes gray. Laren blinked as though confronted with a lifelike statue. Then Estora turned to her. Gems dazzled on the fillet crown she wore. Laren had last seen it upon the brow of Queen Isen as she lay in state at her funeral.