KINGMAKERS PART 5.2

It was a warm and sticky night at my parents' estate.

On night's like that one, my mother would leave the doors and windows open, let the silk and damask curtains flutter in the balmy breeze. On night's like that one, she would play the piano and sing softly while I read my university books and my father checked his ledgers.

I was absorbed in the history of mage home design when my mother announced she was retiring.

"Turn on a lamp, Quen, or you'll ruin your eyes." She kissed my hand and shuffled off to bed, flexing her fingers as she went.

My father lingered in the parlor, his ledgers stacked in a pile on his lap.

"Burning the late night oil, tonight?" I asked him.

He cleared his throat and stood. "No, no. Goodnight, son. Do as your mother says and turn on a lamp."

I listened for his footsteps, heavy on the grand staircase. Then for the door to the guest room, pulled shut behind him. I set aside my books and tiptoed to my room.

A knock came at my bedroom door as I pulled on my line-dancing shoes. "Come in, Franck."

The old man stuck his head in the door. "Ready sir?"

I nodded and we set out from the house to the fields beyond.

The night was dark, the moon but a sliver, and the wheat fields swayed gently. "It's a nice night for it," I noted.

"Yes, sir, it is."

"Ah," I fished a yellowing book from my pocket and handed it to Franck. "I got you this from the library yesterday."

Franck ran his hand over the frayed and water stained black cover. His eyes seemed to glisten. But then that could have been a trick of the starlight.

"Thank you, sir." His voice was indeed tight. "I must warn you, sir, there may be some unfriendly faces tonight."

"Unfriendly?"

"Keep an eye out," he said.

We emerged around a small copse of trees and arrived at the torch lit barn. The music had already begun and there were gleeful shouts coming from inside.

I grinned at Franck as he held the door for me, blinking in the bright light.

The somber, plain clothed workers who tended my parents' fields were dressed in finery tonight. Colorful shirts and dresses, polished leather sandals, and crowns sewn of flowers plucked from their own gardens.

Franck darted for a corner, where a few tables were set up. I watched him long enough to see him fish out the book of poems and put on his spectacles to read.

I smiled as I dove into the melee, shaking hands and waving at familiar faces.

But Franck was right. Narrowed eyes followed my path through the people. And a few young men and women outright glared from where they watched me against the far wall.

"Lord Secretement?"

I turned and found myself face to face with a very lovely woman. I didn't recognize her. But I smiled anyway.

"I do not believe I've made your acquaintance, miss..?"

"Amelie." She stuck out her hand and I shook it. "I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time."

"Certainly." I glanced over her shoulder to the dance floor. "That is, if I may have this dance."

Her lip curled back in slight revulsion. "I was hoping for something more private."

My smile fell but I nodded and we slipped outside. The music played softly in the background; the insects played their own music in the fields. I took the flask from my jacket pocket and took a swig, offering it to her.

She shook her head. "I hear you're an expert in buildings and things of the sort."

"Architectural engineer," I said, nodding. "That's what they call it historically, at least."

Amelie stared out at the wheat fields. "You ever study the citadel?"

"Of course." I put my flask away. "It is but the greatest structure to be built in the last three centuries. Why do you ask, Amelie?"

The song inside changed and there was a cheer.

"There are people in the citadel." Her voice was almost drowned out. "People who wish to see someone else on the throne."

I stared at her for a moment, waiting for a smile. But when her mouth stayed in a thinly pressed line, I took a step away.

"I can see where this conversation is headed," I said. "And I want no part of it."

The woman scowled. "I told him coming here was useless."

She said it almost to herself. But then she was stomping away, toward the dirt road that led back to road from the citadel.

"That's it?" I called after her.

She turned around so she was walking backward. "That's it," she said.

"Will you be here next month?"

Amelie stopped, silhouetted in a shaft of starlight. She seemed to hesitate. But then she turned around and continued onward.

I lingered outside a while longer. Franck was right. There were faces inside that looked none too happy with me for coming tonight.

I didn't know what I'd done to anger them, but I did know I wouldn't be missed.

Halfway home, a dark figure stepped out of the copse of trees. "Have you come up with some argument to sway me?" I asked, thinking it was Amelie.

"Your daddy hasn't been paying us lately, boy." The gruff male voice the came from the darkness was certainly not the silver-haired lady's. "Y'know that?"

Another shadow slipped beside the first and I felt the presence of a third behind me.

"Bet he'll pay us if we have his dandy son," said a woman.

"Aye," said the man at my back. Metal scraped metal like a blade unsheathed. "But who has time for ransom. Better to get revenge, says I."

The pommel of a sword struck my temple and I sagged to my knees, my vision darker than the night. I felt for my sword, always hanging from my belt. But then remembered in a daze that I'd left it at home.

There was a scream.

It took me a moment to realize it wasn't mine.

I blinked the stars from my eyes and scrambled up, grabbing the sword of the woman who'd fallen. Too late. For Amelie stood over the felled bodies, holding a thick branch in one hand.

She dropped the wood and grabbed my arm, towing me toward the house.

"I owe you my life," I said, touching the blood in my hairline as we hurried.

"I thought noble lords carried swords." She stopped at the cobbled path that led to my front door. "And knew how to wield them."

"And I thought ladies didn't fight," I said with a wincing grin.

She scowled. "You've been reading too much history, then."

I laughed, giving a short bow, and moved to go up the stairs.

She grabbed my arm stop me. "If you help us, there would be money in it. A fortune even."

I glanced up at my front door. Though I'd known my father had been spending more and more nights at the gambling dens in midtown, I hadn't thought it possible to gamble away a fortune so large.

I sighed. "Alright. I'll help you. But because you saved my life tonight, not for the money."

"Keep telling yourself that," Amelie said with a half smile, backing away. "You should go. I only stunned them. They'll be waking up soon."

"Thank you." The world felt strange rolling off my tongue.

She nodded, a slight blush touching her golden cheeks, and turned to go. "Tell your father to treat his people better."

"You know," I said. "There's something you could learn from those three."

She stopped. "And what's that."

"The importance," I said, "of leverage."