The banquet main course was served not long after that: delicious fish, steamed vegetables, and other luxuries that would likely be in short supply in the capital in a few weeks. Lydia arrived just in time to remind him they had assigned seats. Drake sat at one of the banquet tables with Lydia on one side and Marissa on the other. His people sat around them.
After the main course the servers brought out dessert, which was a dark sugary confection with strawberries. It was too crumbly to be a cookie and too hard to be cake. It was, however, stupidly good. Drake made a mental note to ensure his cooks got the recipe.
Anna continued to be chaperoned by River (another responsibility Drake was now comfortable giving her) and despite that (or perhaps because of it) the little girl managed to put away two full desserts without getting any on her nice clothes. As dessert time wound down and people began to disperse into small groups, Drake leaned close to Lydia.
“I’m going to meet up with Sky to talk manor lord picks,” he said quietly. “You’ll get everyone home safe? Especially the drunk people?”
“Of course, lord.” Her gaze remained on the room, but her knee gently bumped his beneath the table. “Also, this time, please try not to get arrested by the noble court. I’m not sure how much we’ll be able to do for you if that happens again.”
Drake chuckled ruefully. “Am I really that bad at kissing?”
She lightly cleared her throat. “You should not keep Lord Skybreak waiting.”
“Right as always.” He rose and then, after a moment of consideration, squeezed her shoulder. “Thanks again. For all you do. I don’t feel like I say that enough.” He’d never forget how much she’d risked to save his life. She was his Employee of the Month by a mile.
He walked for the alcove where he and Sky had spoken previously, though she wasn’t there yet. He settled with his back against the wall and watched as people began to trickle out of the banquet. His zarovians were among the first to leave, especially once it became clear the noble court would be serving no more food tonight. He could swear Cresh was strutting.
Not long after, he spotted Sky approaching their alcove. After a glance to check on her progress, he watched the room until she arrived so there wouldn’t be any awkward eye contact as she approached. Nothing was worse than awkward eye contact with someone you wanted to say hello to while they were too far away to speak.
“Are you going to finish that?” Sky asked when she arrived.
Drake simply handed her the plate. “How’d your interview with the vampire go?”
“My interview?”
“I promised you I’d stop doing that. Sorry. How it’d go with Lord Mistvale?”
“Well enough. He’s agreed to take our share of refugees. Given his lands are vast, full of bounty, and lightly populated, it only makes sense.”
So he wasn’t going to have any refugees to tend after all. As guilty as he felt about not doing his part, that was awesome. Drake glanced at her as she popped the last bite of chocolate strawberry cookie cake into her mouth. “How did you talk him into that?”
She chewed dutifully before the answered. “I agreed we would take his share of the fighting.”
That simply meant he’d get to kill more kromians. “I’ll take that as a win. I guess Mistvale’s a lover, not a fighter?”
“No, he is most certainly a fighter. He simply prefers fighting on his own ground.”
“In other words, he’d prefer not to walk into that kromian trap with the rest of us.”
Sky glanced at him. “Would you rather we take back our share of refugees?”
Drake shrugged. “I don’t even know where I would put them. So as long as we know he’s not going to mistreat them, your deal is fine with me.”
“Our deal,” Sky reminded him. “And he will certainly treat the refugees well, especially since they’ll be returning to Korhaurbauten once their homes are restored. If there is one task at which Lord Mistvale excels, it is currying favor with the noble court.”
“I still have more tokens of noble favor than he does.” Drake crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. “Anyway, who’s your pick for the new Lord Blackmane?”
A loud bell tolled repeatedly before Sky could answer, filling the room with a melodious sound. She frowned at the ceiling. “Of course.”
Drake straightened in alarm. “Was that an alarm? Is it an attack?”
“No, simply a summons. Lord Mistvale must have moved up our private meeting time with the other lords.” She strode off toward the other side of the huge room. “Luna Corsetti for Blackmane. Perrin Marroquin for Frostlight.”
Drake followed her. He was glad she knew where she was going, because he didn’t have a clue. He moved close so they could continue to talk on the move.
“I agree on Luna for Blackmane, but I want Merrill Dancourt for Frostlight.”
“My spies say Merrill isn’t fond of you.”
“He’s also not fond of Lord Proudglade, and is very friendly with Lord Brightwater. I think she’ll pick him on the first round, and if we support her, we could win the vote without having to deal with any messy negotiations. You feel like taking a leap?”
“A Brightwater/Frostlight alliance would do well to keep Proudglade and Mistvale in check,” Sky agreed. “That might be the best we could hope for. You have my support.”
He took one more look around the room to check on his folks, and saw them all gathering up as he (or rather Lydia) had suggested. They were going to head back to the chambers in small groups, with at least one fighter in each group to aid the capital guards. His people would protect each other on the way home.
He saw no sign of his mother, but he didn’t worry for Marissa Hughes. She knew the capital and its people better than anyone here. He hoped she’d gathered some useful information. He’d be sure to check in with her once he got back from the manor lord summit.
A single door stood open at the opposite side of the huge room from which Drake had entered. He spotted Lord Brightwater just before she disappeared inside. There was no one else following them, so the rest of the manor lords must already be inside. He slowed to allow Sky to lead the way, then followed her into a much smaller room beyond.
This stone interior was like a twelve-sided stone gazebo, much smaller and more intimate than the chamber outside. A round table stood in its center, and around it were twelve alcoves with comfortable-looking benches piled with pillows. It reminded Drake a little of a hookah den, though he doubted it would be fun to smoke out with Lord Proudglade.
The other manor lords had already settled into their alcoves. There were no name tags, but Drake decided the arrangement must mirror the boxes they took in the much larger Chamber of Council. That would put him in the alcove beside Sky. He suppressed a grin when she moved where he expected. He’d guessed right.
The Judge did not join them. Instead, Lord Mistvale rose once they were all seated. Mistvale Manor remained the oldest of the manors present, and thus it fell to the snooty fellow to lead the manor summit. There were less rules here. Navigating this would not be easy... though on the plus side, Drake could fuck with his enemies without being censured.
This was the first time he had met with the other lords without one of his thralls or one of theirs standing guard. It truly did feel more intimate. He trusted his advisors implicitly, but being on his own for this summit felt liberating.
He wouldn’t have felt prepared for this even a month ago, but now, he knew he could handle it. He was looking forward to handling it. He was fully comfortable in his role.
Lord Ashwind was staring into space. Lord Proudglade was staring at the ground. Lord Brightwater was watching Lord Mistvale, and Lord Mistvale, as expected, spoke first.
“I call this summit to order,” Mistvale said snootily. “Tonight’s summit will begin with a private ballot to record who we believe is best qualified to inherit the blood pacts that currently lie in state. To business.”
Unlike the Judge, Lord Mistvale spent no time explaining what would happen, likely because Drake was the only one in the room who might not know. Unfortunately for Mistvale, Drake had drilled on the procedures of private manor lord summits backward and forward while waiting for Hector’s tailor to finish his work. He already had a strategy.
A two-thirds vote of those present was required to name a new manor lord to a manor that did not have one. Tonight, that would be four votes. Drake suspected Lords Proudglade and Mistvale were looking forward to drawn out negotiations. He was looking forward to disappointing them.
A private ballot was required here because of the traditional order in which manor lords spoke. Because the lords of the oldest manors always spoke first, in a case like this, where they were trying to get a majority vote, speaking first would put Lord Mistvale and Proudglade at a disadvantage. The other manor lords would know their votes and could change theirs to win.
A secret ballot eliminated that possibility. Even allied manor lords couldn’t easily confer in such a situation. Lord Mistvale likely hoped that would allow for long negotiations where he could wring concessions out of his enemies in exchange for ending the endless ballots.
Unfortunately for Mistvale, Drake already had a plan to win the Frostlight vote on the first round. Or at least, to put himself in a position to win it. That would only be possible if Lord Ashwind had finally decided to stop sucking up to Lord Proudglade.
“Manor lords, write who you nominate as Lord Frostlight from those in the running.”
Three thralls from Lord Frostlight’s manor had put themselves up for manor lord. Daniela Aldan hailed from Proudglade territory, and Drake suspected she still sympathized with them. Merrill Dancourt, as Sky has said, wasn’t fond of Gloomwood or Proudglade, and Perrin Marroquin hailed from Skybreak Manor’s territory. He had strong roots there.
Perrin was the obvious pick for Sky and Drake, but even with Lord Ashwind’s support, they’d only have three votes. Drake wanted to win this vote on the first ballot, and he wouldn’t if he picked Perrin. So he’d roll the dice and see where the neutral option got him.
Once each manor lord recorded their vote, they passed them around until the stack reached Lord Mistvale. He would lift and read each vote in the traditional order in which manors spoke. Therefore, no one could change their vote after hearing the others.
Mistvale lifted his own vote first. “Daniela Aldan.”
That confirmed Daniela supported Mistvale and Proudglade. No surprise.
“Daniela Aldan,” Mistvale continued. That would be Proudglade’s vote. “Merrill Dancourt.” Lord Brightwater’s vote, and another non-surprise.
When Lord Mistvale raised the fourth ballot—Drake’s vote—he hesitated. Then, he glanced at Drake with a frown. “Merrill Dancourt.”
Lord Brightwater eyed him in surprise.
As Mistvale lifted the next vote, his grimace was obvious. “Merrill Dancourt.”
That was Sky’s vote, and now Mistvale knew for certain he’d miscalculated. With reluctance, he lifted the last vote—Ashwind’s—and then smiled in relief. “Perrin Marroquin.”
That confirmed what Drake had hoped. Lord Ashwind had chosen to support Sky, not Proudglade. Before anyone else could speak, Drake leaned toward Lord Ashwind.
“Support our nomination and I’ll forget about you betraying me at the last cabal,” Drake told Lord Ashwind. “Clean slate. No debt.”
“Lord Gloomwood!” Mistvale said haughtily. “We have not begun negotiations!”
Drake sat back and smiled at him. “Better get those started, then.”
Maintaining a grudge against Lord Ashwind, a prospective ally with useful resources, didn’t do a thing for him. The man had only acted to protect his hostage son. Another manor lord might have held a grudge after the cabal, but that would be their mistake.
Mistvale eyed him distastefully. “As no majority has been reached, we will now open negotiations before the next ballot.”
“I change my vote,” Lord Ashwind said immediately. “I vote for Merrill Dancourt.”
Drake didn’t bother to hide his smug expression. For his part, Lord Mistvale looked like he’d swallowed something sour. “Respectfully, Lord Ashwind, I would suggest—”
“I vote we move to the next ballot,” Drake interrupted. “Show of hands?”
Sky and Lord Brightwater immediately raised their hands. So did Lord Ashwind. With four manor lords in agreement—a majority of the six now present—there was no need for a second secret ballot. Everyone already knew what the result would be.
“Four votes for Merrill Dancourt,” Lord Mistvale said with visible distaste. “With majority agreement, he is now the new Lord Frostlight.”
Mistvale took defeat better than Proudglade had. Also, in Mistvale’s eyes, this wasn’t a defeat, just a draw. Mistvale assumed he’d come out ahead since Drake wouldn’t add Lord Frostlight to his alliance, but that was because the two of them were playing different games.
Mistvale wanted to tilt the table in his favor. Drake just wanted to hold it steady. If Lord Brightwater and Lord Frostlight allied, that would ensure neither Proudglade nor Mistvale ever had the chance to build a large alliance again. He didn’t trust them with that power.
As he glanced at Lord Brightwater again, he found her watching him intently. He was surprised when she offered a simple nod before looking away as if it had never happened. It might have simply been congratulations on a clever maneuver, but it felt like something else.
Approval? Perhaps she was truly considering looking past the actions of the past Lords Gloomwood and considering his actions on their own. Perhaps her beliefs about manor lord debt aligned more closely with his own, and she just played that close to her chest.
Better yet, Drake suspected the next vote was going to be even easier.
The banquet main course was served not long after that: delicious fish, steamed vegetables, and other luxuries that would likely be in short supply in the capital in a few weeks. Lydia arrived just in time to remind him they had assigned seats. Drake sat at one of the banquet tables with Lydia on one side and Marissa on the other. His people sat around them.
After the main course the servers brought out dessert, which was a dark sugary confection with strawberries. It was too crumbly to be a cookie and too hard to be cake. It was, however, stupidly good. Drake made a mental note to ensure his cooks got the recipe.
Anna continued to be chaperoned by River (another responsibility Drake was now comfortable giving her) and despite that (or perhaps because of it) the little girl managed to put away two full desserts without getting any on her nice clothes. As dessert time wound down and people began to disperse into small groups, Drake leaned close to Lydia.
“I’m going to meet up with Sky to talk manor lord picks,” he said quietly. “You’ll get everyone home safe? Especially the drunk people?”
“Of course, lord.” Her gaze remained on the room, but her knee gently bumped his beneath the table. “Also, this time, please try not to get arrested by the noble court. I’m not sure how much we’ll be able to do for you if that happens again.”
Drake chuckled ruefully. “Am I really that bad at kissing?”
She lightly cleared her throat. “You should not keep Lord Skybreak waiting.”
“Right as always.” He rose and then, after a moment of consideration, squeezed her shoulder. “Thanks again. For all you do. I don’t feel like I say that enough.” He’d never forget how much she’d risked to save his life. She was his Employee of the Month by a mile.
He walked for the alcove where he and Sky had spoken previously, though she wasn’t there yet. He settled with his back against the wall and watched as people began to trickle out of the banquet. His zarovians were among the first to leave, especially once it became clear the noble court would be serving no more food tonight. He could swear Cresh was strutting.
Not long after, he spotted Sky approaching their alcove. After a glance to check on her progress, he watched the room until she arrived so there wouldn’t be any awkward eye contact as she approached. Nothing was worse than awkward eye contact with someone you wanted to say hello to while they were too far away to speak.
“Are you going to finish that?” Sky asked when she arrived.
Drake simply handed her the plate. “How’d your interview with the vampire go?”
“My interview?”
“I promised you I’d stop doing that. Sorry. How it’d go with Lord Mistvale?”
“Well enough. He’s agreed to take our share of refugees. Given his lands are vast, full of bounty, and lightly populated, it only makes sense.”
So he wasn’t going to have any refugees to tend after all. As guilty as he felt about not doing his part, that was awesome. Drake glanced at her as she popped the last bite of chocolate strawberry cookie cake into her mouth. “How did you talk him into that?”
She chewed dutifully before the answered. “I agreed we would take his share of the fighting.”
That simply meant he’d get to kill more kromians. “I’ll take that as a win. I guess Mistvale’s a lover, not a fighter?”
“No, he is most certainly a fighter. He simply prefers fighting on his own ground.”
“In other words, he’d prefer not to walk into that kromian trap with the rest of us.”
Sky glanced at him. “Would you rather we take back our share of refugees?”
Drake shrugged. “I don’t even know where I would put them. So as long as we know he’s not going to mistreat them, your deal is fine with me.”
“Our deal,” Sky reminded him. “And he will certainly treat the refugees well, especially since they’ll be returning to Korhaurbauten once their homes are restored. If there is one task at which Lord Mistvale excels, it is currying favor with the noble court.”
“I still have more tokens of noble favor than he does.” Drake crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. “Anyway, who’s your pick for the new Lord Blackmane?”
A loud bell tolled repeatedly before Sky could answer, filling the room with a melodious sound. She frowned at the ceiling. “Of course.”
Drake straightened in alarm. “Was that an alarm? Is it an attack?”
“No, simply a summons. Lord Mistvale must have moved up our private meeting time with the other lords.” She strode off toward the other side of the huge room. “Luna Corsetti for Blackmane. Perrin Marroquin for Frostlight.”
Drake followed her. He was glad she knew where she was going, because he didn’t have a clue. He moved close so they could continue to talk on the move.
“I agree on Luna for Blackmane, but I want Merrill Dancourt for Frostlight.”
“My spies say Merrill isn’t fond of you.”
“He’s also not fond of Lord Proudglade, and is very friendly with Lord Brightwater. I think she’ll pick him on the first round, and if we support her, we could win the vote without having to deal with any messy negotiations. You feel like taking a leap?”
“A Brightwater/Frostlight alliance would do well to keep Proudglade and Mistvale in check,” Sky agreed. “That might be the best we could hope for. You have my support.”
He took one more look around the room to check on his folks, and saw them all gathering up as he (or rather Lydia) had suggested. They were going to head back to the chambers in small groups, with at least one fighter in each group to aid the capital guards. His people would protect each other on the way home.
He saw no sign of his mother, but he didn’t worry for Marissa Hughes. She knew the capital and its people better than anyone here. He hoped she’d gathered some useful information. He’d be sure to check in with her once he got back from the manor lord summit.
A single door stood open at the opposite side of the huge room from which Drake had entered. He spotted Lord Brightwater just before she disappeared inside. There was no one else following them, so the rest of the manor lords must already be inside. He slowed to allow Sky to lead the way, then followed her into a much smaller room beyond.
This stone interior was like a twelve-sided stone gazebo, much smaller and more intimate than the chamber outside. A round table stood in its center, and around it were twelve alcoves with comfortable-looking benches piled with pillows. It reminded Drake a little of a hookah den, though he doubted it would be fun to smoke out with Lord Proudglade.
The other manor lords had already settled into their alcoves. There were no name tags, but Drake decided the arrangement must mirror the boxes they took in the much larger Chamber of Council. That would put him in the alcove beside Sky. He suppressed a grin when she moved where he expected. He’d guessed right.
The Judge did not join them. Instead, Lord Mistvale rose once they were all seated. Mistvale Manor remained the oldest of the manors present, and thus it fell to the snooty fellow to lead the manor summit. There were less rules here. Navigating this would not be easy... though on the plus side, Drake could fuck with his enemies without being censured.
This was the first time he had met with the other lords without one of his thralls or one of theirs standing guard. It truly did feel more intimate. He trusted his advisors implicitly, but being on his own for this summit felt liberating.
He wouldn’t have felt prepared for this even a month ago, but now, he knew he could handle it. He was looking forward to handling it. He was fully comfortable in his role.
Lord Ashwind was staring into space. Lord Proudglade was staring at the ground. Lord Brightwater was watching Lord Mistvale, and Lord Mistvale, as expected, spoke first.
“I call this summit to order,” Mistvale said snootily. “Tonight’s summit will begin with a private ballot to record who we believe is best qualified to inherit the blood pacts that currently lie in state. To business.”
Unlike the Judge, Lord Mistvale spent no time explaining what would happen, likely because Drake was the only one in the room who might not know. Unfortunately for Mistvale, Drake had drilled on the procedures of private manor lord summits backward and forward while waiting for Hector’s tailor to finish his work. He already had a strategy.
A two-thirds vote of those present was required to name a new manor lord to a manor that did not have one. Tonight, that would be four votes. Drake suspected Lords Proudglade and Mistvale were looking forward to drawn out negotiations. He was looking forward to disappointing them.
A private ballot was required here because of the traditional order in which manor lords spoke. Because the lords of the oldest manors always spoke first, in a case like this, where they were trying to get a majority vote, speaking first would put Lord Mistvale and Proudglade at a disadvantage. The other manor lords would know their votes and could change theirs to win.
A secret ballot eliminated that possibility. Even allied manor lords couldn’t easily confer in such a situation. Lord Mistvale likely hoped that would allow for long negotiations where he could wring concessions out of his enemies in exchange for ending the endless ballots.
Unfortunately for Mistvale, Drake already had a plan to win the Frostlight vote on the first round. Or at least, to put himself in a position to win it. That would only be possible if Lord Ashwind had finally decided to stop sucking up to Lord Proudglade.
“Manor lords, write who you nominate as Lord Frostlight from those in the running.”
Three thralls from Lord Frostlight’s manor had put themselves up for manor lord. Daniela Aldan hailed from Proudglade territory, and Drake suspected she still sympathized with them. Merrill Dancourt, as Sky has said, wasn’t fond of Gloomwood or Proudglade, and Perrin Marroquin hailed from Skybreak Manor’s territory. He had strong roots there.
Perrin was the obvious pick for Sky and Drake, but even with Lord Ashwind’s support, they’d only have three votes. Drake wanted to win this vote on the first ballot, and he wouldn’t if he picked Perrin. So he’d roll the dice and see where the neutral option got him.
Once each manor lord recorded their vote, they passed them around until the stack reached Lord Mistvale. He would lift and read each vote in the traditional order in which manors spoke. Therefore, no one could change their vote after hearing the others.
Mistvale lifted his own vote first. “Daniela Aldan.”
That confirmed Daniela supported Mistvale and Proudglade. No surprise.
“Daniela Aldan,” Mistvale continued. That would be Proudglade’s vote. “Merrill Dancourt.” Lord Brightwater’s vote, and another non-surprise.
When Lord Mistvale raised the fourth ballot—Drake’s vote—he hesitated. Then, he glanced at Drake with a frown. “Merrill Dancourt.”
Lord Brightwater eyed him in surprise.
As Mistvale lifted the next vote, his grimace was obvious. “Merrill Dancourt.”
That was Sky’s vote, and now Mistvale knew for certain he’d miscalculated. With reluctance, he lifted the last vote—Ashwind’s—and then smiled in relief. “Perrin Marroquin.”
That confirmed what Drake had hoped. Lord Ashwind had chosen to support Sky, not Proudglade. Before anyone else could speak, Drake leaned toward Lord Ashwind.
“Support our nomination and I’ll forget about you betraying me at the last cabal,” Drake told Lord Ashwind. “Clean slate. No debt.”
“Lord Gloomwood!” Mistvale said haughtily. “We have not begun negotiations!”
Drake sat back and smiled at him. “Better get those started, then.”
Maintaining a grudge against Lord Ashwind, a prospective ally with useful resources, didn’t do a thing for him. The man had only acted to protect his hostage son. Another manor lord might have held a grudge after the cabal, but that would be their mistake.
Mistvale eyed him distastefully. “As no majority has been reached, we will now open negotiations before the next ballot.”
“I change my vote,” Lord Ashwind said immediately. “I vote for Merrill Dancourt.”
Drake didn’t bother to hide his smug expression. For his part, Lord Mistvale looked like he’d swallowed something sour. “Respectfully, Lord Ashwind, I would suggest—”
“I vote we move to the next ballot,” Drake interrupted. “Show of hands?”
Sky and Lord Brightwater immediately raised their hands. So did Lord Ashwind. With four manor lords in agreement—a majority of the six now present—there was no need for a second secret ballot. Everyone already knew what the result would be.
“Four votes for Merrill Dancourt,” Lord Mistvale said with visible distaste. “With majority agreement, he is now the new Lord Frostlight.”
Mistvale took defeat better than Proudglade had. Also, in Mistvale’s eyes, this wasn’t a defeat, just a draw. Mistvale assumed he’d come out ahead since Drake wouldn’t add Lord Frostlight to his alliance, but that was because the two of them were playing different games.
Mistvale wanted to tilt the table in his favor. Drake just wanted to hold it steady. If Lord Brightwater and Lord Frostlight allied, that would ensure neither Proudglade nor Mistvale ever had the chance to build a large alliance again. He didn’t trust them with that power.
As he glanced at Lord Brightwater again, he found her watching him intently. He was surprised when she offered a simple nod before looking away as if it had never happened. It might have simply been congratulations on a clever maneuver, but it felt like something else.
Approval? Perhaps she was truly considering looking past the actions of the past Lords Gloomwood and considering his actions on their own. Perhaps her beliefs about manor lord debt aligned more closely with his own, and she just played that close to her chest.
Better yet, Drake suspected the next vote was going to be even easier.
