Leda

Chapter Nine: All Happy Families

Leda turned her attention from Evelia back to the room. Something had changed in the mood of the crowd ˗ a rising tension, a subtle chill of unease. She realised that the orchestra had stopped playing. A knot of courtiers appeared to be wrestling with someone near the door. Leda froze, the breath catching in her throat. A woman's voice rose in hysterical strains.

Castor was on his feet, his eyes now cold, the false smile drifting away. "Let her approach," he ordered. "Let her speak."

His would be guardians drew apart, and from their midst stepped a short, plump woman of middle years, her emerald dress dishevelled and torn at the shoulder from her struggle with the courtiers. Gathering the few shreds of dignity which still remained to her she tottered towards the throne, her face flushed, her eyes wild and glassy.

"Your Majesty." She dropped into a low curtsey.

"Lady Roc." Castor nodded in response, frowning.

"Your Majesty," she rose unsteadily. "I beg you. Please! Give him back to me. He meant nothing by his words."

"He meant nothing, Lady Roc? I've never heard anything more treacherous!"

"He...he takes it all back," she stammered through her tears. "Words spoken after too many ales." She made a pathetic attempt at a smile.

"A drunkard as well as a traitor!"

The silence was so thick it could have been cut with a knife, Leda thought. Men and women peered over one another's shoulders striving to catch a glimpse of Lady Roc: now wretched and miserable as she sank to the floor in grief.

"Return to your son, Lady Roc." Castor took a step forward, then another, resting his hand upon her shoulder. "Advise him to heed my judgement upon his father. The crown is mine. Remind him of that. And your husband dies tomorrow."

"But he attended your coronation only this morning!" she blurted out. "No disloyal subject would have shown such duty."

"A mere show, Lady Roc. I judge men by their words and deeds. Return to your home and tell your son ˗ Castor is his Emperor. And no other noble house will share my claim!"

She stared at him for a moment, her lower lip quivering before two guards dragged her away, the woman too stunned to protest. Blood throbbed in Leda's ears. Marc tapped her elbow and she span back round.

"Don't let Castor see your face," he whispered. "His mood is ugly."

"But I've done nothing wrong!"

Gradually the drone of nervous conversation flooded the room once more, like rain after a drought. "Perhaps it's time to go," Mother said, her voice shaking.

"Perhaps," Hal agreed.

"No!" Marc shook his head. "He sees enemies everywhere." His voice dropped to the lowest of whispers. "If you leave now, he may even take you for Lord Roc's accomplice."

"But I don't even know the man!" Hal hissed back.

Magda moved closer. "That doesn't matter. Marc's right. He's already decided that rebellion is brewing in the West. He may believe it's spreading to the North as well."

"Ladies! Senator!" A stranger's rich baritone interrupted their conversation. Leda froze. Had they been overheard? Would they now be dragged before the Emperor too, and accused of treachery?

The young man looked familiar ˗ a golden mane of hair, blue eyes framed with laughter lines and angular good looks. Then he snapped into a smile and Leda remembered.

"Your Highness." She stumbled a curtsey, aware that he was watching her, his gaze undershot with what she took to be arrogance.

"Lady Leda," Josen's smile widened. "I hope that little moment of unpleasantness didn't spoil your evening?"