—there’s hope.


    *


    The next day, Valerie slipped away from another wedding planning session to sit in on one of Edrick’s lessons, only to discover that Avon had beaten her to it. He sat with the little boy at his study table, rearranging a pile of books while the tutor hovered nervously in the background.


    Valerie lingered in the doorway, watching them.


    “The natural hierarchy,” said Avon. “Which discipline is that?”


    “Wisdom,” Edrick answered.


    “That’s right. Can you tell me what it is?”


    “The natural hierarchy is the order of the plants and animals.” Edrick opened one of the books, pointing to a picture that she couldn’t make out. “The Divine sits at the top. Then mankind. Then the dragons and the birds and the beasts. And then the fish and the bugs and everything that crawls in the ground or swims in the sea. Plants and mushrooms come last, because they don’t move and everything eats them.”


    “Very good.” Avon ruffled his son’s hair, the boy glowing in his praise. “But the Man of Wisdom knows that the plants and the fungi aren’t less important because they’re at the bottom of the hierarchy. Everything else depends on them.”


    He glanced up, spotting her for the first time, and smiled. Valerie took it as her cue to enter the room, ignoring the tutor’s disapproving look. She moved around to look at the picture in Edrick’s book: a stylised illustration of the creatures of the world, arranged in some arbitrary order that couldn’t possibly make sense to anyone but the author.


    “You’ve put man in the wrong place,” she said. “He should be down there with the beasts.”


    Edrick looked up at her. “That’s not right!” he exclaimed.


    Avon chuckled. “Lady Valerie learned her wisdom from a different book. They don’t all agree.”


    “A different book?”


    Avon leaned back to address the tutor. “I notice this is an Evangelist text. I specifically asked that Edrick be taught from the Salvationist tradition.”


    “My—my apologies, my lord!” the tutor stammered. “Lady Juliana chose the books, I—”


    “You ignored my orders to comply with Lady Juliana’s? She isn’t his mother.”


    “No, of course not, my lord!” The tutor bowed, red-faced with shame. “I’ll correct it at once.”


    “See that you do. And focus on the boy’s numbers. I expect to see a new set of books when I return.”


    Edrick’s head shot up at that. “When you return?”


    “Yes.” Avon turned back to his son, his voice soft. “Lady Valerie and I have important business to attend outside the city. We’ll be gone for a few days, but we’ll come back soon.”


    A frisson of excitement ran through her. Naturally, Valerie had gone straight to Avon after the encounter with the Archbishop. She had one demand: a trip to Arden. She had to see the monastery for herself. So far, Avon had only agreed to track down the coach driver who had warded her off with that strange black claw. But now it sounded like he had decided to make the bigger journey too.


    She was bursting with questions, but Valerie contained herself. She waited at Avon’s shoulder, hands clasped, as quiet and demure as any good Drakonian lady.


    “Again?” The boy’s lip quivered. “But you were gone last weekend too.”


    Avon glanced at her. “I know. Focus on your studies.”


    She saw the emotion playing out in the little boy’s expressive blue eyes, the disappointment followed by quiet acceptance. He was so restrained already, she thought. Her younger cousins would have been crying or clamouring to go too.


    Avon squeezed his son’s shoulder, then rose and offered his arm. Valerie took it. They left the tutor to resume his lesson, though she suspected he’d be rather too rattled to concentrate. She glanced back to see Edrick staring after them like a sad lost puppy and felt a stab of pity—but it wasn’t her business to tell Avon how to parent his child.


    No, she had more important things on her mind. She forgot the boy the second they left the room, the words tumbling out of her mouth: “We’re going already? To Arden—to the monastery?”


    Avon nodded. “I won’t wait for Father. There’s little time to lose.”


    “What happened with—”


    He put his finger to his lips. They passed one of the servants in the hallway, and Valerie swallowed her question.


    “Aren’t we supposed to have dinner with the Emperor tonight?” she asked instead.


    “I’d sooner stand naked in front of the Senate. He’s been tedious all week. Ah—Uncle!”


    They were approaching Avon’s quarters, the Admiral coming to meet them from the opposite direction. Rhys Avon had added a welcome presence to the villa, regaling them with wild stories of his exploits at sea and quaffing half the kitchen’s stock of fine wine and brandy. Valerie had particularly enjoyed the way Lady Juliana’s face pinched like a disapproving aunt whenever the Admiral told an off-colour joke.


    But the Emperor had not joined them, in keeping with his usual habit of spending his days and nights at Congress and returning home for the holy days of rest. Apparently getting shot had not convinced him to change this routine.


    The Admiral saluted. “Present and accounted for!”


    They entered Avon’s quarters together, Valerie’s curiosity increasing with every step. Two wooden trunks awaited at the foot of his desk, and the desk itself had mostly been cleared. He’d already packed to leave, or rather his servants had packed for him. That didn’t surprise her.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    The sight of Rufus and Ophelia did. They were bent over the standing easel and canvas that Valerie had borrowed from Ophelia: a calendar of the time remaining until the election. She’d drawn a box for each day and crossed them off as the days passed. More than half the days had been crossed off.


    Two weeks left, she thought. Avon’s right. We don’t have much time.


    “James!” Ophelia waved a quill pen at them. “Look, we’ve covered your diary! I’m sure we can make it work, but you must come back for the ball. Father will be furious if you miss it.”


    “I won’t miss it,” said Avon. He held up his hand before his sister could respond. “One moment, please.”


    He went back to the door and looked out, left, right, then ordered his manservant to stay outside and keep watch. As if by silent consensus, Valerie, Ophelia, Rufus and the Admiral all gathered around the calendar. Closing the door behind him, Avon rejoined their little circle. An expectant hush fell, and not for the first time butterflies fluttered in Valerie’s stomach.


    “Ladies,” Avon began, looking around at each of them. “Gentlemen. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that what we discuss today doesn’t leave this room. You have all supported my efforts to bring the Empire into a new age where magic and science co-exist. Now we’re well on our way to convincing the Senate to pursue this vision. However, one man stands in our way. And, contrary to appearances, it isn’t my father.”


    “We know now that my father is the Patriarch’s pawn. It’s because of the Patriarch that he refuses to support me. It’s therefore a matter of urgency that we destroy the Patriarch’s influence over my father.”


    The Admiral snorted. “Stubborn old goat. What’s the plan?”


    Avon tapped the hilt of his sword. “This blade holds a secret Father won’t reveal. The Patriarch knows it. Think about that for a moment. This is a magical weapon. My grandfather brought it with him from Maskamere. How would Rupert Gideon know the secret of an enchanted sword from Maskamere?”


    “Unless he had some connection to magic himself,” Rufus surmised.


    “Exactly.”


    Avon met her eyes, and Valerie stepped forward to address the group. “Lady Ophelia and I visited the Archbishop of Arden yesterday. He told us a story about the Patriarch…”


    She recounted the tale as the Archbishop had told it, Ophelia occasionally chipping in to add a detail or two. Valerie watched the Admiral and Rufus in particular as she finished her story. Rufus looked thoughtful, tapping his foot, but not disbelieving.


    The Admiral’s verdict was rather more damning. “Sounds like peasant nonsense to me. The riffraff will believe anything. Trust me, I hear many a tale on the high seas. What makes you think there’s anything in it?”


    “Maybe I wouldn’t believe it,” said Valerie, “but then I saw the Archbishop’s servant.”


    She described the encounter with the coach driver and how he’d used the strange black claw to ward her off. The Admiral frowned, following along, but raised no further objection. Rufus, however, folded his arms.


    “Sorry for speaking out of turn,” he said. “I’m no expert, but I thought magic only existed around the silvertrees? Isn’t that the entire argument we’ve been making to the Senate?”


    “I thought so too,” said Valerie. “I don’t know how he did it. That’s why I want to get hold of the claw. Did you…?”


    “Rufus and I visited the Archbishop’s residence today,” Avon confirmed. “Unfortunately, he wasn’t at home. Both he and Lord Canwell have departed for Arden.”


    Valerie’s heart leapt. “What about the driver?”


    “Gone with him, I should think. But the connection is clear. We have evidence of magic in Arden. We know the Patriarch visited Arden in his youth. So…”


    “You follow the trail,” said Rufus. “That’s why you want us to cover for you, huh?”


    Avon nodded. “Lady Valerie and I will make for Arden tonight. I can’t say exactly how long we’ll be away, but I need each of you to hold down the fort while we’re gone.” He looked around at them. “Uncle, stick to my father like glue. Don’t let him sabotage us. Rufus, continue our meetings with the senators. I need you to represent me in my absence. Ophelia, take care of Edrick.”


    “Can one of you contact Anwen?” Valerie added. “Ask him to research magic in Drakon. If the stories about Arden are true, maybe other legends are real too.”


    The Admiral nodded. “Consider it done, my lady.”


    Ophelia opened her mouth, then closed it. Valerie frowned, noticing her hesitation.


    “Well,” said Avon. “We’d best be off.”


    “Wait!” she said. “Ophelia, did you want to say something?”


    Ophelia flushed. “It’s nothing. Just a silly thought.”


    “What is it?” Valerie persisted.


    They were all looking at her now. Valerie might have thought that a girl in Ophelia’s position would be used to such attention. But Ophelia could hardly meet their eyes.


    “Well… I just… If it’s the Patriarch’s secrets we wish to learn, I thought perhaps we might speak to Lady Melody. I see her so often what with the wedding planning, and…”


    “Great idea.” Valerie smiled, injecting as much encouragement into her tone as she could. “You’re thinking in exactly the right way. I already convinced her to arrange an audience with the Patriarch at the summer ball. And I keep saying I want to help her, but she’s not biting. I think you might have a better chance.”


    Ophelia smiled back, full of relief. Valerie meant it too. If anyone could soften Melody’s prickly nature, she’d bet on Ophelia.


    Avon frowned at them both. “Lady Melody—the courtesan you’ve employed to plan your wedding? Has she not returned to her husband?”


    “Her husband is dead,” said Valerie. “She’s living with the Gideons until she can find a new arrangement for herself. I’m sure she would spy for us, if only we could convince her…”


    She couldn’t believe that Avon didn’t already know this. In all of his networking, all of the parties he’d been to and the meetings he’d attended, had it never come up?


    No, she thought, because he’s only met men. A courtesan isn’t important to them.


    “It’s a dangerous game,” said Avon. “But worth a try.”


    “Only if you feel up to it, love,” Rufus added. “We’re both stepping into some big shoes here.”


    “Do you?” Avon asked softly.


    Ophelia nodded. “I do. I’ve just… never done anything like this before.”


    “Sooner or later, you’ll have to.” There was a tinge of sadness in Avon’s voice. “Politics is the only game that matters in Drakon. I’ve taught Rufus how to play. And you’ve seen Lady Valerie at work. We all must do our part to protect this family.”


    “Ha!” said the Admiral. “Ophelia, sweetheart, you don’t have to act like those two slithering snakes over there. You’ll find your own way.”


    Avon cocked his head. “Remind me who shot my father and lied about it?”


    “Straight to his face,” said the Admiral cheerfully. “Ah, we’re all peas in a pod, aren’t we. I love this family.”


    “You’ll be careful, won’t you, James?” Ophelia pleaded. “Come back safe.”


    “I will,” he promised. “You do the same.”


    They bid their farewells, Avon hugging his sister and uncle, Rufus shaking their hands. Valerie embraced Ophelia too, the other girl wiping tears from her eyes. As they departed, she experienced a strange, soaring feeling, as if the clouds had lifted her up and transported her.


    They were a team. Allies. Family. Something like that. Something to cherish.


    Finally, she and Avon were left alone in his chamber.


    “You’d best pack your bags,” he said. “We should leave before Father gets here.”


    “Mmm.” She tilted her head. “Since when are you and Rufus on first name terms?”


    He took a step closer, a slight smile curving his mouth. “Since when are you?”


    “Do you trust him?”


    “I trust that he’ll help. You know, I’ve spent a considerable amount of time with him visiting the senators. He’s not so different from you.”


    This statement did not at all inspire confidence. “And your uncle? He shot your father; he almost ruined our plan.”


    “My uncle plays the fool, but he’s a force to be reckoned with. Better to have him on our side.”


    She swallowed. “It really is a dangerous game.”


    Like all moves that Avon made, this one was calculated. She understood. He had agreed to give up precious time before the election to follow Valerie on this search for magic in Arden. It could come to nothing. The trail might be cold. But she felt strongly that she had to pursue it. If magic did exist outside of Maskamere, if it had a source other than the silvertrees, it would upend everything she thought she knew.


    He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “You’re right to ask. It means you’ve learned my lesson.”


    “Trust no one,” she echoed. There’s not a person in this court without a knife behind their back. Those words were etched into her brain.


    “Come, then.”


    He stepped away, and she let out a breath. Yes, they needed allies. And it was possible to work with allies you didn’t fully trust, as long as you could find a common goal. He understood that as well as she did.


    She only hoped that he’d picked the right people.