In Which Severin Is Given the Vague Report

January 1, 1182

"My lords." Ietrin went for the king's chair despite not technically being the king yet, little or no hesitation or sentiment in his motions as if his father had been dead for years instead of half a day. At least he wasn't wearing the crown. "I appreciate your haste in meeting with me today."

"Our condolences, Ietrin," Lorn bade him. Of the three of them, Severin figured Lorn was the most appropriate person for giving sympathies, at least where Ietrin was concerned. Octavius didn't give half a rat's ass about how Ietrin was and had never been shy about showing it, and the occasion of Roderick's passing was apparently no exception. As for Severin, he was too preoccupied with the long-term implications, plus he was sure he'd have to spend any comforting he had on Laralita on the way out.

"Thank you for your sympathy, but my father would have wanted us to get down to business." Ietrin inched his chair inward and nudged a stylus on the desk. He would have to write King Oswald later, as well as his sisters outside of the kingdom. Though she probably needed more time to grieve, Severin thought that was a job better left to Leara. "In keeping with our usual customs, the funeral will take place two days after the death--"

"Tomorrow." Octavius glowered, daring Ietrin to call him out for interrupting with the obvious. The challenge was ignored. "I would have thought that an exception was in order. Your uncle in Dovia will want to attend, and so will your sisters. The timing of a king's funeral ought to allow for travel."

"That, and the fact that whatever grand send-off your father wanted will take more than two days to arrange," Severin added. Personally, he wouldn't mind if his children put him in the ground the very day and with no more ceremony than the average peasant farmer was paid, but Roderick never would have stood for anything less than the grandest funeral imagined. Ietrin should have known that.

"If my father asks me for some spectacle of an affair, then he shall have it. Of course, we all know he won't." Apparently Ietrin's vocabulary didn't include the word 'can't'. "As for the timing, I don't care for the scent of corpse, nor do I think I could stomach the sight of my father half-rotten by the time the guests arrive. If they wish to hold some sort of service in their own countries, they are welcome to do so on their own time."

Rather flimsy excuses. Severin shared a look with Octavius. He knew what he wanted to say, but he had no doubt that Octavius wanted to say it more. "Are you sure you're not just being hasty because it's a more accepted practice to hold the coronation after the funeral?"

"That would be a valid haste. We can't have a kingdom without a king." Ietrin shut his eyes and straightened his back against Roderick's chair. Severin guessed he was imagining that stupid crown atop his head. "My coronation will take place four days from now. You will all swear fealty to me then."

His puffed-up manner supposed he thought admiration a part of that oath. Severin frowned. "But for now, we are still loyal to your father."

"I'm not an idiot. Lornian aside, none of you were ever loyal to my father."

"Then what makes you think we'll be loyal to you?"

Ietrin nearly snapped the compass he'd been fiddling with, but Severin didn't budge and though he didn't look, he was sure Octavius hadn't either. The prince too stunned to reply, it fell to Lorn to fill the silence. "Perhaps we should backtrack a bit? Aldhein only told me that the king was dead. How did he die?"

"My stepmother found him here when he failed to retire after sampling tonight's wine. The coroner believes that his heart gave out."

Of course it did. He's dead, isn't he? "A rather vague report. Did it occur to you that it might have been the wine?"

"Poison, you mean?" Of course that's what he'd meant. Ietrin knew better than to ask. "Perish the thought. I picked out that bottle myself for my father to sample."

"Did you deliver it?" asked Octavius.

"No, that was Master Finessa."

"The Master Finessa who departed last night."

Ietrin sighed. "Yes, yes, convenient timing. But my stepmother claims that Finessa offered her a glass as well. Why offer poisoned wine to someone other than the target?"

"Perhaps she was expendable," Severin ventured, though that seemed a little too easy. "Or perhaps it was by design. Laralita doesn't drink after supper and Finessa might have known that. If he offered the wine to someone else--even if she didn't take it--the situation would appear less suspicious."

The prince sniffed. "I doubt a mere servant would put much thought into what was or wasn't suspicious."

"Some servants might. Besides, he may not have been the mastermind; I know if I were to hire an assassin, I'd want some say in how the murder was performed."

Ietrin sulked, more out of annoyance than any more human emotion. He would only get more insufferable when he did have that crown on his head. "Clearly you haven't met Finessa if you think there's the slightest chance that he's an assassin. And who would have wanted my father dead, anyway?"

"Admittedly? Off the top of my head, I can't think of a name." And Severin would be shocked if anyone else could either. Roderick had never been an obstacle for anyone in his life, and even those who loathed him would have rather seen him humiliated than dead. Yet, Severin did not know every person Roderick knew... "But that doesn't mean that no one did."

"You're next in line, aren't you?" Octavius leaned forward and stared forth, the prince flinching somewhat if the corner of Severin's eye could judge. "Perhaps you did."

Severin glanced over at Lorn and then they both turned to Ietrin. An interesting point. Ietrin did have reasons for wanting to inherit sooner rather than later.

For all he didn't yet know that those plans were no longer possible. Roderick, for once in your life, you did the smart thing.

Not all men stood up long against eyes. Ietrin was not slow to fold. "Don't be absurd. Now, if I see any of you tomorrow, you'd best be dressed for mourning."

NEXT CHAPTER: