Leda

Chapter Ten: Keeping Bad Company

"Leda, go now. Run!" Hal shoved Leda from the room. "We'll buy you some time. Take the Hannac carriage. We'll catch you up."

"But I can't leave you behind!"

Fear stricken, Leda hovered in the corridor as Castor's reedy voice shrieked once more over the crowds: "Leda Nérac!"

"You must!" Meracad pleaded. "We'll follow, I promise. Just go! Now! Head North, Leda. We'll keep him distracted."

Heads turned, the court growing quiet again as it scented fresh blood. With a desperate moan, Leda turned tail and ran.

Slowly, Hal and Meracad headed back into the Salon of the Ancestors, Hal sliding an arm around Meracad's waist. She caught her name whispered amid suppressed snickers of laughter. Castor had slunk from his perch; only his brother Josen now remained on the dais. There was another unknown quantity, Hal thought. The Emperor's brother, and yet he had clearly warned Leda of Castor's intentions. What game was he playing?

Before them, the crowds parted like drapes to reveal Castor standing at their heart, a thin smile stretched across his face and his eyes burning ˗ hungry with an emotion she could not fathom. Love, perhaps? Had Josen merely spoken the truth? Had Castor decided himself in love with Leda? Or was it a different type of hunger altogether? A lust for blood; a will for power or dominance? Beside her, Meracad flinched.

"Where is Lady Nérac?" Castor asked.

"She felt ill, your Majesty." Meracad was trembling. "She had to...return home."

"She...went...home." He rubbed at his chin. "To Dal Reniac?"

"To Senator Remigius' house," Hal lied. Anything to buy Leda precious time. "She was bitterly disappointed. She would have loved to have stayed, but...she has not felt well these past days."

"She seemed well enough when she was dancing with my brother."

"She wears a brave face."

"Hm. Send for her." Castor took a step forward, clearly expecting Hal to give way. When she didn't, his eyes hardened. "I said send for her."

"Your Majesty, we must ask you to forgive Leda this evening," Meracad cut in. "She truly is unwell.'

"I fear she would not be good company, your Majesty." The tip of Marc's walking stick tapped on the floor as he hobbled towards them. "I advised her to rest myself," the Senator continued. "She seemed very pale and...perhaps it was something she ate?"

"Yes, well she never could stomach fish," Hal nodded furiously in agreement. "I've told her time and again, but does she listen?"

"Quiet!" Castor warbled rather than shouted. "If that is the case, I shall expect to see her tomorrow."

"Very good, your Majesty." Hal offered him a low, mocking bow. He turned his back. "The last thing you'd wish at your coronation feast is Leda vomiting all over the guests."

"Hal!" Meracad nudged her in the ribs, but for some reason she couldn't stop. Castor was no more than a spoilt child, a brat who made death a public spectacle, who cried when he couldn't get what he wanted.

"The last time she ate salmon, we were scraping it off the walls at Dal Reniac for days."

Castor froze and turned, his face twisted with disgust. "Have you finished?"

"Well I could go on, but..."

Visibly shaking with rage, he thrust his face towards her. "Do you think I'm one of your tenants or cattle herds, Hannac? That you can speak to me in such a tone?"