“Is it?” his mother said. “Forgive me. It’s so difficult to keep up with all of the newly minted lordlings here at court.”
Hal struggled not to stare. Usually his mother treated everyone with gracious courtesy, whether she was addressing the king or one of her tenants or a beggar on the street.
Harper, too, was studying Granger, her arms crossed. It reminded Hal of that time he’d found his three-year-old sister standing in the pasture with a stick in her hand. There was a viper in her path, and she couldn’t decide whether to go around it or club it to death.
Who the hell was Granger, and what had he done to earn such a chilly reception?
“I am hoping that your lovely daughter will consent to dance with me.”
“Lord Granger, my lovely daughter is far too young to consider—”
“Let’s go,” Harper said, shooting a warning look at her mother. She stalked toward the dance floor, with Granger following behind.
Hal’s gracious mother glared after him, cursing under her breath. “Harper doesn’t know what she is getting into with that unprincipled scoundrel.”
Lady Heresford took her arm. “Don’t worry, Marjorie, I’ve sent Helene to keep an eye on them. If anything untoward happens, she’ll fetch us right away.”
Hal was torn between forcibly cutting in on Lord Granger’s dance and waiting until he had more information. Good sense prevailed, and he found himself bowing to his mother. Up close, he could see that, despite her fine clothes, months in a dungeon hadn’t done her any good at all.
“Thanelee Matelon,” he said, swallowing hard. “May I . . . may I have the pleasure of this dance?”
He could tell that she was about to come back with a snappish reply, but then she froze, staring at him as if she could see through the mask to the man underneath.
“Thank the Maker,” she whispered, her voice husky with tears. “It’s really you. I wasn’t sure whether to believe it or not.”
Hal offered his arm, and she accepted, and he led her out onto the dance floor. He tried hard to remember the steps she’d taught him so painstakingly. Tears were spilling down her cheeks, but she didn’t miss a step.
“Don’t cry, Mother,” he whispered. “They’ll think I’m stepping on your toes.”
That brought a smile.
“Now,” he said, “Robert is here, too. Don’t look,” he hastened to add. “I’ll tell you what I know about the plan, and then you tell me about Granger.”
When he’d finished, he said, “Can you remember that? Any questions?”
“I’ll remember.”
“Good. Now I need to get the same message to one adult in each and every one of the families. Can you help me with that? I think if you and Harper do it, it will be less obvious.”
“Of course,” his lady mother said. “I will make sure that everyone knows.”
“Now tell me about Granger.”
“He came out of nowhere, moved up in the King’s Guard, and now he’s serving as bailiff,” she said, with brisk brevity. “He’s taught King Jarat everything he knows about debauchery, and also handles a lot of his dirty work. Jarat has rewarded him by giving him Whitehall.”
“Whitehall?” Now Hal understood his mother’s barely concealed anger. Whitehall had been held by the Scovilles for centuries, since just after the Breaking. His mother had brought it to the marriage as her dowry. It was close to White Oaks, and they’d often stayed there as children. “He couldn’t have taken possession of it, surely. I was just at White Oaks. The armies are massed, and the thanes are preparing to march.”
“How is your father, dear?” his mother said, smiling at Lady DeLacroix as she swept by. “He takes things so much to heart, and he’s not as young as he used to be.”
“Father’s furious, as you’d expect, and determined to win. Now about Whitehall.”
“Granger hasn’t taken possession—and he never will, if your father and I have anything to say about it. I think he’s trying to hedge his bets. He’s already betrothed, mind you, to an heiress in the down-realms who is considerably older than he is. But now he’s thinking that if he marries Harper, that will damp down resistance to his claiming Whitehall, even if the thanes prevail. If they don’t, he could make a case for claiming White Oaks, too. After all, they go so well together.”
“He won’t if I kill him first,” Hal muttered.
“Don’t scowl like that, dear, it will give you frown lines one day, mark my words. No. I will kill him myself.”
Hal stared at his mother. “What?”
“Better me than you. You’re young and you have your whole life ahead of you. Now that I have you back, I won’t have you throwing it away. I’m old, I’ve had my children, enjoyed the love of my life, and what’s important is my legacy.”
“Mother, do you really think—?”
“Danielle!” she said, waving at Lady Oberon like she was having the best time ever. “That dress is so becoming.” And then, hardly missing a beat, said, “I almost cut the bastard’s throat the other day, when he came to see us in the Pit. He was sniffing around Harper, and I’d had enough, but then I heard about this party and couldn’t resist finding out what it was all about.”
Hal all but stopped dancing. “He’s keeping you in the Pit? Women and children in the Pit?”
“Don’t raise your voice, dear. It’s His Majesty’s private little prison. It wasn’t so bad, once we evicted most of the vermin.”
Except for the human vermin, Hal thought. “No killing will be necessary, because we’re getting you out tonight. Now I’d better move on, or people will gossip about Thanelee Matelon, endlessly dancing with someone young enough to be her son.” He stepped back and bowed. She curtsied, and he watched her walk away, cloaked in her usual dignity.
If we survive this, I won’t make the mistake of underestimating her, ever again, he thought.
42MOTLEY CREW
The rooftop garden at Fellsmarch Castle had been one of Ash’s favorite boyhood haunts. It was planted deep with memories of time spent with
