The Rebel Assassin

Chapter 27: The Heir Ascendant

The traditional gown for the ceremony was white. More draped than fitted, it fell in rippling folds down to the floor. It was a dress no one had expected to see their princess wear for several more years. The fact that this time had come upon them so quickly and without warning shook the whole castle.

The day after the Sage's murder was discovered, although still shrouded in speculation, the castle was in a quiet uproar. All the nobles that could make it to the castle within the day were sent for, but other than that the news of what was about to happen was kept close within the walls. To keep gossip from spilling over with the news, very few servants were allowed to leave even for the most urgent errands. Those who did leave and come back knew that if any one of them allowed the news to slip, all would be punished.

High above the chaos, then, that was happening in secret — the preparation of the great hall, the kitchens cooking as large a feast as possible on short notice, nobles on horseback flooding into the main courtyard — Magali stared out the window as her attendants made miniscule adjustments to the hanging of the skirt's folds.

It would have made a regal picture from the other side of the wall: the princess in a pure white gown, her golden-red curls falling in a halo lit by the room's many lamps, all framed by the severe, dark window frame as she stared through the glass.

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Leaving Abram behind, she had hurried to the king's meeting rooms, arriving flushed and almost out breath. The advisors were dispersing, their weary expressions attesting to the fact that the king had called this meeting over the Sage's death far earlier in the morning.

She would have been insulted that he hadn't sent a messenger to wake and bring her to it, but he had never taken her requests to be present for his meetings seriously. He had humored her, at first, perhaps somewhat pleased that she was taking an interest in acting like the Heir, but that fatherly indulgence had ended abruptly the first time she openly disagreed with him during a meeting. It became clear that his idea of a good Heir was a blindly supportive daughter. Since she has stopped pretending to be that, he had acted with a vague, distant disapproval when he wasn't ignoring her completely.

So when he glanced up and saw her slip through the doors, his welcoming smile was more polite than affectionate. "Good morning, Magali."

She took in his dark gray clothes, decorative black cloak, worn face. "Good morning, Father. I heard the Sage is dead. Are arrangements being made?"

He winced. "It is still early. Must you speak so plainly about it?"

"I don't see why I should pretend to mourn a man I never liked and who never liked me. I'm surprised you are dressed like this."

"He was one of my Guardians. I mourn his passing." The reply was too formal to be authentic. She didn't think he missed Tobias as a person, just the tool he had been to wield power. For what it was worth, she didn't think Tobias would have truly mourned King Aeric, had it been he who died, only the power he granted.

It was supposed to have been different, with her and her Guardians. They were supposed to have truly cared about each other.

But she wasn't going to get emotional now. "Yes, it is a pity, even if I never liked him. Things have been rough lately, with losing the Auxiliary Captain, the ambassador being nearly killed within our own walls, rebels escaping a northern fort—"

"You needn't list all my failures." He was joking, probably trying to force the beginning of a political debate into a lighthearted conversation instead.

She refused to let her path be changed. "Someone needs to, I think. After all, you are not doing anything to address the dangers to your reign."

This was going to far, which she knew. It was simply the quickest way to let him know she meant business and bypass all the insulting ways he would have tried to make it a conversation about the cooling weather or the newest play.