What do you hear from your spy, Cam?" Donelan stretched and set his empty brandy glass aside.
It was late, and at this hour, Aberponte was quiet. Outside the mullioned windows, snow was falling hard. The chill permeated the room, despite the thick walls and tapestries. Donelan slouched in a chair near the fire. Tice, Donelan's seneschal, paced quietly.
"Bits and pieces. We've been at this for a month now, and I still don't have a full picture. It's going to take a while to stitch it together. What worries me most is the idea that we're not just up against one group. The more my spy tells me, the more I'm convinced that there's another power in this. Someone—this 'lord'—is putting money behind the division-ists," Cam said.
"This complicates things." Donelan swirled the dark brandy in the bottle and poured another glass. "And it makes no sense."
"Kev's story is consistent. Someone spending Trevath gold—not exactly common in these parts—is feeding ideas to the divisionists. This Ruggs is bad news. And it doesn't sound like he's working alone—he's telling them that he speaks for a powerful group—led by this 'lord'—who wants Kiara out of Margolan for his own reasons."
Donelan's eyes were worried. "And the obvious suspect is Lord Curane."
"That's the only answer I come up with."
"I had a long talk with Tris about Curane before the wedding. Curane—and Trevath— stand to benefit from unseating Tris. They have no common cause with the divisionists. This whole idea that Kiara would come running home to Isencroft is nonsense. Even if she did, the child is rightful king of both kingdoms. That suits neither Curane nor the divisionists."
Tice stopped pacing and looked up. "Unless Curane's man is playing the rebels for fools. These divisionists are provincial. They want things to stay as they've always been. Curane was a savvy enough politician to keep his head under Jared's rule and come away with a prize, a royal bastard. He's got his eye on taking the throne of Margolan. Jared wanted Isencroft by force or by marriage. Curane's likely to want it, too."
"What if Curane's using the divisionists to keep Isencroft busy while he gets rid of Tris and the Margolan army? The divisionists don't think like that. They won't realize that Curane means to betray them until it's done. If Curane can put Jared's bastard on the Margolan throne with himself as regent, there's only one thing standing between him and Isencroft," Tice looked from Cam to Donelan.
"Kiara and the baby," Cam said.
Donelan nodded soberly. "And Curane has a man inside Shekerishet."
Cam looked at Donelan. "So what's the news from your spy? Surely Crevan's sent you something recently. Has he told you anything that might tie back to either Curane or the divisionists?"
"Crevan's a faithful correspondent. But his letters have been fairly boring, as spying goes. Tris has taken the army south. There's no word on how the siege goes. Since then, Shekerishet has been quiet. Oh, and Kiara's had very little appetite and she seems to be getting by on toast and scalded milk to keep her stomach settled, but that's the extent of the excitement. She's well guarded." He shrugged. "I learned a long time ago that most of what you hear from your spies is completely useless. Crevan's well placed, but if there's nothing to report, there's nothing to report."
Tice stopped pacing. "Have you told Crevan that we know Curane has someone inside Shekerishet? Is he watching for a traitor? Even though Crevan's fairly new to the Margolan court, surely there are others who can help him identify suspects."
"I sent word in my last letter. But with the snows, it could take a month to reach him, even riding in relay." Donelan tossed back the second brandy. "I had hoped that Kiara would be safe from the divisionists once she went to Margolan. It made the idea of having her so far away easier to handle. I'm feeling my years. There are days I admit I almost wouldn't mind handing over the crown and going on a long, long hunt. I'd hoped never to see war again."
Tice laid a hand on Donelan's shoulder. "You've led Isencroft well through difficult years. These divisionists hardly resemble an army. If Tris routs Curane, any Trevath support for the divisionists will disappear, and they'll probably disband. Take heart that Kiara's safe for now. Shekerishet is secure. And hard as it may be, try not to brood on it. Surely there's some positive news."
Cam grinned. "Care to take bets on how soon we hear from Dark Haven that Carina and Jonmarc are expecting? Now that the snows are deep, even the vayasb moru aren't traveling. I don't know when my letter will reach her, or when she'll be able to get a letter through." He shook his head. "It's a scary thought—Jonmarc as someone's father."
Donelan chuckled. "I dare say that there were many who said the same about me. After a few decades on the throne, the memories of one's 'youthful indiscretions' fade. Perhaps when the history books are written, Jonmarc will emerge with a very different reputation."
Cam walked to the windows and looked out. "Hard to believe it's almost Winterstide. Last year, Tris and the others were in Principality, in exile. Now—everything's changed. Maybe by next Winterstide, all of this will be behind us, and things can go back to normal."
Tice set his glass aside. "I hope things are more settled by next Winterstide, but I fear they will never be normal. Too much has happened. I just pray that whatever comes, the new balance will bring peace."
Cam turned from the window. "I guess we'll know when we get there, won't we?"