Dancing and music created a lively atmosphere, but his eyes were fixed on the two kings of Ceredigion, locked in a heated argument beyond the main tables where the feast was underway. He didn’t know what had started the row, but the situation was heating up quickly based on their angry looks and rising voices. It saddened him to see conflict so soon. Queen Emiloh abruptly pushed away from the table and strode toward her husband and son.
Ransom approached them surreptitiously, keeping along the walls where the servants were mingling, some of them openly watching the scene unfold.
“Be about your business,” he reprimanded. The servants who’d been eavesdropping quickly scattered, especially when they saw the badge on his tunic.
As he drew nearer, he began to hear their voices.
“You are both making a scene,” the queen scolded. “Cannot this wait?”
Devon the Younger’s face was flushed. “I was giving my lord father the courtesy of sharing my plan to travel to Occitania in the spring to fetch my wife. She should have been here for this event, and I seek to heal any breach this may have caused with King Lewis. I don’t understand why I must be lectured on statecraft when Father manages to botch it completely on his own.”
Ransom wanted to cover his face. He felt a little guilty for listening in, especially since he’d sent the servants on their way for doing that very thing, but in order to protect the Younger King, he needed to understand what was going on within the royal family. He had never seen Gervase’s son, Bertram, speak to his father in such a way. But then again, the prince had been much younger when he’d died.
“You may wear a crown,” said the Elder King in a voice strangled with rage, “but you understand little about the cost.”
“Oh, I do understand, Father, since you are so quick to boast about how much these feasts and fetes do indeed cost!”
“This is unseemly,” said the queen. “This is supposed to be a celebration, and you are both arguing like fools.”
“I did not choose my bride, but neither did I argue or seek to thwart the match—”
“You were a child,” snapped his father. “You still are!”
“I am a man,” said the Younger King in a cool voice. “Did not your own father trust you with a command when you were but fifteen? Were you not knighted by then as well? You hold me back because you’re afraid I will become more powerful than you have ever been.”
“Son,” said the queen warningly.
“Oh, let him speak his mind,” said the father. “Tell me all about how you’ve been so mistreated. I’ve given you a kingdom! No one gave one to me!”
“Mine is a false crown, and we both know it. You’ve made it abundantly clear that I cannot rule in my own right. You’ve given Bennett authority in the Vexin. Goff will have power in Brythonica when he weds the duchess. But you’re telling me that I cannot even go and fetch my own wife, that I must instead entrust the task to one of my knights? Why would King Lewis seek to harm me?”
“Oh, he wants you on the throne, my boy,” chuffed the Elder King, “but he will see you destroyed the moment you have an heir. Lewis desires the crown for himself and his heirs. You have no idea how subtle he is.”
“Yet you bound me to his daughter, did you not? Let me bring her to Kingfountain myself. As a man. I’m not afraid of going to Pree. You are.”
Ransom saw the pained look on the queen’s face as she glanced between her husband and son, unable to move either man. Her hands had clenched into fists, and unshed tears glistened in her eyes.
The Elder King’s voice was raw and throbbed with anger. “You will get your chance to rule. When I am dead. You will inherit a realm at peace, her borders swollen to bursting. Her enemies cowed and humbled. I have not worked this hard for this long to see it all crumble away because of your vanity. You will not go anywhere unless I command it. Is that clear?”
The younger Devon’s eyes looked molten with hatred. “As clear as the moon,” he snapped and strode away in a fury.
The confrontation left a sour feeling in Ransom’s stomach. He wondered if he would be given the task of fetching the Occitanian princess in the spring. He didn’t relish the thought. He couldn’t help but wonder how Lewis would react to the slight of the coronation.
He saw the queen reach for her husband’s hand, but he jerked his away.
“Sir Ransom?” said a familiar voice from behind him.
Ransom turned and saw a man he recognized as the dock warden of Kingfountain, Sir Hugh. The man was responsible for safety in the wharves and within the city of Kingfountain itself. Standing next to him was Sir Iain, the queen’s chamberlain.