“Doesn’t Marshal Lepturus have a granddaughter who’d be about the right age? That would be a good connection for our family.”
“I think he does, yes,” Grus answered. “Shall I ask him?”
His wife flashed him an annoyed look. “I wouldn’t have mentioned the girl if I didn’t want you to, now would I?”
“No, dear,” Grus said dutifully.
When he asked Lepturus to dine with him, he made it a private invitation, only the two of them. If Lepturus had some things to say, Grus wanted them to be for his ears alone. The head of the royal bodyguards put him in mind of an old bear—slower than he had been, sometimes almost shambling, but still able to break a man’s neck with one swipe of his paw.
They ate. The chef outdid himself with quail stuffed with crayfish gathered from the river outside the city of Avornis. The honey-glazed torte filled with candied fruit that followed the main course was every bit as magnificent in its own way. Grus made sure the wine flowed freely.
Lepturus emptied his goblet—not for the first time—then set it down. “Well, Your Majesty, if I were a pretty girl, you’d have seduced me by now,” he rumbled. “But I’m no girl, and I never was pretty. So tell me, what’s on your mind?”
Grus told him. Lepturus listened carefully. After the king was done, Lepturus refilled his goblet himself. He sipped. He said not a word. At last, Grus had to ask, “Well?”
“You do me a great honor, Your Majesty, me and my family,” Lepturus said. He sipped again. He said not another word.
“Well?” Grus asked again when the silence stretched unbearably tight.
“Well, Your Majesty, as I say, it’s a great honor, and mighty generous of you,” Lepturus said, and then fell silent once more.
“What else do you have to say about it?” Grus asked.
“Well, Your Majesty…” Lepturus punctuated that by draining the goblet yet again. He sighed, then resumed, “Well, Your Majesty, it’s a great honor, like I say. It’s a great honor, but I’m going to have to turn you down.”
Now that Grus had an answer, he wished he didn’t. “Why?” he barked.
“Why?” Lepturus echoed, as though he’d never heard the word before. He hesitated, perhaps looking for some polite way to say what he thought needed saying. He must not have found one, for when he went on he was as blunt as before. “It’s like this, Your Majesty. My granddaughter’s a sweet girl, and—”
“And what?” Grus broke in. “Don’t you think she’d be happy with Ortalis?”
“I don’t even think she’d be safe with Ortalis,” Lepturus said. “Some of the things I’ve heard about him…” He shook his big, heavy-featured head.
“Don’t believe everything you hear,” Grus said quickly.
“I don’t. I don’t believe half of it, or even a quarter. What’s left is plenty. I want to keep Sponsa happy, and I want to keep her healthy. So thank you very much, Your Majesty, but no thank you.”
Whatever Grus had expected, he hadn’t expected Lepturus to turn him down flat. He didn’t even argue when the guards commander heaved himself to his feet and limped out of the little chamber where they’d dined. He didn’t leave himself, not right away. He stayed and got very drunk.
He still remembered everything the next morning. He tried to use more wine to deal with his headache. It didn’t work very well. “He said no,” he told Estrilda. “Said he didn’t want Ortalis marrying her.”
His wife’s lips thinned. “What are you going to do about that?”
“I don’t know,” Grus answered, which was itself a confession of sorts. If I had a marriageable daughter, would I want her wedding Ortalis? He knew the answer to the question. He knew, but he didn’t want to admit it even to himself.
“You need to do something ,” Estrilda said.
“I know,” he said.
He summoned Lepturus again the next morning. The guards commander nodded to him. “You decided you’re going to take my head because I don’t want Sponsa marrying your son?” He sounded more curious than afraid.
“Well, that’s up to you,” Grus said.
“I’m not going to change my mind, if that’s what you want. Do what you want to me, but leave my granddaughter alone.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Grus told him. “How would you like to go into retirement in the Maze?”
“And if I say no, I get the other?” Lepturus tapped a finger against the back of his neck.
“I’m afraid so,” Grus said. “I have to do something, you know. You’ve insulted me and my family. I can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”
“I’ve got nothing in particular against you, Your Majesty,” Lepturus said. “You’ve turned out pretty well—better than I expected, to tell you the truth. But that son of yours…” He shook his head. “Anything I say’ll just get me in deeper, so I’ll shut up now.”
“Yes, it probably will,” Grus said, though he doubted whether Lepturus could say anything worse about Ortalis than he’d thought himself. He held up a hand. “Wait. Don’t shut up yet. You are retiring?”
“Oh, yes. I’ll do that, if you’ll let me. And I thank you for it. I wasn’t quite ready to say good-bye to the whole world just yet.”
“All right. We’ll make the announcement in a day or two, then.”
Lepturus nodded and ambled out. He and Grus might have been talking about crops and taxes, not about the choice between exile and execution. Lepturus understands how the game is played, Grus thought with relief. Now I just have to hope Estrilda thinks it’s enough.
King Lanius knew about the royal we. He knew about it, but he could never remember using it before. He’d never found a time when he seemed to need it. He did now. Giving Grus his iciest stare, he said, “We are not pleased with you.”
“No?” To Lanius’ endless frustration, Grus had a thick skin, and a slick one, too. Insult slid off him; it hardly ever pierced. Now he only shrugged and said, “Sorry to hear that, Your Majesty.”
“How dare you exile Lepturus?” Lanius snarled, letting out the fury he couldn’t hold anymore.
“How dare I?” Grus shrugged again. “That’s pretty simple— it was either send him to the Maze or kill him. I’m glad I didn’t have to do that.”
“Why would you even want to?” Lanius asked. “He’s guarded me my whole life.”
“I know,” Grus said patiently. “I’m not happy about it, but he insulted me. It wasn’t something I could smile and ignore, either.”
“What did he do?” Lanius couldn’t imagine Lepturus offending the other king.
But Grus answered, “I offered him a match between Ortalis and his granddaughter, Sponsa. He said no. If that’s not an insult, what is?”
Good for him, was the first thing that crossed Lanius’ mind.
He realized he couldn’t very well say that to Ortalis’ father. What he said instead was, “Oh.” He didn’t see how “Oh” could get him into trouble.
And it didn’t. Grus nodded and said, “That’s right. I can’t ignore insults, you know.”
“No, I suppose not,” Lanius said unhappily.
“Lepturus thought I would take his head.” Grus sounded proud of his restraint.
Maybe he even had reason to. All the same, Lanius thought, He was willing to die to keep his granddaughter from marrying Ortalis. Doesn’t that tell you something about your son? He didn’t see how he could say that to Grus, either. What he did say was, “I trusted Lepturus to keep me safe. He did the job for my father, and he always did it for me. Who will take his place?”