Chapter 13: Gisella

Palace of the Centauri Throne: Kingdom of Karil

Gisella had always expected that the heir of King Maurin might play a part in the destruction of the respectability of Karil and the overall disillusionment with power.

She just didn't expect it to happen so quickly.

Gisella had been gone for one night. One night since the new king's public declaration that his men were hunting his father's assassin for execution. One day since Nicolas had looked into her eyes and proclaimed his hatred for everything that she was, everything that she had ever been. And already she was returning from a night spent on horseback to find a palace in complete disarray.

Most of the nobility had departed. Now that a succession plan was firmly in place and Nicolas' ass was firmly on the throne, they had returned to their country estates and landholdings to spread the news of the new king and prepare themselves for a coronation. What remained at court now were the spoiled spawns of wealthy lords and overzealous ladies. Men and women Nicolas' own age crowded the halls as Gisella breezed past. In the dining hall, Lord Nordheim's son had a scantily dressed prostitute bent over a barrel of ale. Ladies gossiped in every corner, prostitutes led little lordlings to and fro by their shirt collars, casks emptied faster than new ones could be found. It was utter debauchery.

Gisella's temper rose as she stormed through the crowded halls, pushing aside the writhing bodies in her search for the one who had undoubtedly started this mess. She found him, unsurprisingly, on the throne. With a barely dressed redhead on his lap and a sloshing goblet of wine in his hand. They glared at one another, his hand lingering over the poor girl's breasts. But just as Gisella opened her mouth to berate him for defiling his father's court before his body was even cold, a messenger tapped her on the shoulder.

"A council meeting is taking place, Lady Gisella," he said. "I've been trying to find you."

She frowned and gave the messenger a curt nod. Before she turned to leave, she looked back at King Nicolas one more time. The glare that she shot him meant that they would be having this discussion later. The sneer he cast back meant he understood.

The council chambers were in an uproar when Gisella arrived. Men stood on either side of the long wooden table, pointing fingers and shouting at one another. She wasn't entirely sure what the argument was about but the words war and assassination were being bandied about so she imagined she could guess. Hardly anyone noticed that she had entered. All but Captain Ronin seemed otherwise occupied with the disagreement. He alone watched her enter, staring at her as she approached.

"If we do not respond quickly, we risk losing the upper hand," Councilman Magnus Bendixen was saying. "Delos has allied themselves with Idoria but that was before they became aware of the assassination. If we could convince them–"

"Can we help you, Lady Gisella?" Ronin interrupted the councilman, raising a brow at Gisella as she began to settle into her usual seat. She looked up at him in surprise before glancing at the other council members who were watching them in silence.

"I'm not sure what you mean," she replied, feigning ignorance though she saw the power play at hand here. "I was always invited to council members under King Maurin."

"And have you been invited under King Nicolas?"

Some of the councilmen looked away from her at that, clearing their throats uncomfortably or staring at the floor. Johan caught her eye and gave a slight shake of the head as if warning her against testing this new captain. Gisella just crossed her arms and raised a brow in return.

"You may ask him if you wish," she replied easily. "Though the new king doesn't seem to be in any condition to make such a call at present."

Ronin frowned at that, clearly not caring for the state of debauchery that Gisella had returned to find the palace in only a day after Nicolas assumed the throne.

"I know His Majesty is set on finding the girl who killed his father," Johan interjected mercifully. "But perhaps our efforts would be better spent determining who hired her. I highly doubt she was a rogue rebel and it's clear that whoever obtained her services to carry out this dreadful deed is our number one enemy."

"We cannot go to war with so much turmoil within our own borders," another councilman agreed, nodding his head, and then many of them began voicing their assent. Johan looked to Gisella and she gave him a nod of thanks.

"It could be the Chaos," someone said after a while.

"The Chaos has no reason to make such a bold move upon the Karilish throne," Ronin replied. "Not yet. Not when he isn't near enough to take it for himself."

"Himself?" Gisella asked. "Not Idoria?"

Ronin narrowed his gaze but she maintained eye contact anyway.

"No man that powerful will ever be satisfied with one country alone," Ronin remarked.

"No," Gisella agreed, crossing her arms. "No man would."

Ronin's jaw tensed.

"The Chaos may be involved," Johan spoke then. "But I think it's more likely that it was Halvor who's behind the assassination."

"Halvor?" one of the other council members gasped. "The king's own brother?"

"Halvor has long been jealous of the throne. He was sent away to the sea for that very reason. Months ago, we started receiving reports that he was amassing followers for the Idorian faith, claiming it was his divine right to be king of Karil, that his brother's reign had brought about only bloodshed and genocide."

Gisella kept her mouth shut. She couldn't entirely disagree with that, given that she had brought about much of that bloodshed herself. But it didn't keep the rest of the council members from exploding with disgusted rage. They carried on for a few minutes before Ronin raised his hand and they quieted.

"If Halvor is after the throne, he will come for Nicolas next," Ronin spoke calmly. "I will have his guard increased. We will limit who comes and goes from court. No more lapses in security. No more parties."

At that last sentence, Ronin looked directly at Gisella as if they had some sort of understanding. She shifted uncomfortably, annoyed. It wasn't her fault that the former prince was sitting drunk on his throne, pawing at some poor, unfortunate girl. But then she heard his father's voice in the back of her mind, the man she had served with for years, the man who she had always respected if not always agreed with. Advise him.

Well, fine.

She whirled around and marched for the door, abruptly ending this spiraling council meeting. The men behind her fell into various discussions of trade and battle strategy but she felt one pair of eyes in particular boring into her back as she strode away.

Finding him in this endless palace would have been a foolish task, especially since she had already walked by the throne room and he no longer occupied it. So she went to his rooms. He wasn't there, of course. But he would be. Eventually. She ordered the soldiers at the door to leave. She would guard the rooms until he returned and then she would fetch them after she said her piece. They obeyed but only after glancing at one another, undoubtedly wondering if she still outranked them under this new monarch.

She leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and waited. The longer she waited, the angrier he got. It was late and where was he? Out partying? Celebrating... what, exactly? The death of his father? The descent of his country to foolish madness? This wasn't how a king behaved.

You haven't met many kings, have you?

She shook her head, pushing his voice from her mind. He was wrong. Maurin was a good king. Ruthless and full of hate but loved. Well, loved by the people he wasn't killing. She frowned.

"Shit," someone muttered and she glanced up to see Nicolas rounding the corner, a pretty, scantily dressed woman on each arm. He was frowning at her.

She stormed away from her position on the wall and up to where he stood.

"Get into your room," Gisella snapped.

Nicolas stared at her as if she'd lost her mind, so taken aback by her tone, ordering him about like a toddler, that he forgot to be angry. Then his gaze shifted to the women and she rolled her eyes.

"If you wish to entertain your king, wait in the hall," she snapped at the girls. "I won't be long."

Without waiting for him to follow, Gisella grabbed Nicolas hard by the arm and pulled him away, toward his rooms. She opened the door and shoved him inside before following.

"Unhand me!" he cried. "I'll have your head for touching your king like this. I'll–"

She rounded on him, pouring all the fury and venom into her voice that she could muster.

"Your uncle schemes to take the throne from you right at this very moment," she spat. "Your council meets to discuss a strategy and where are you? Drunk and cavorting days after your father's murder."

Nicolas stared at her as if she had slapped him. Perhaps she should have.

"Lower lords are deserting you, your uncle builds a force of magic," she told him. "Your people need to believe in you. And what do you show them? Weakness."

"I could have you tossed in the dungeons for such speech, or worse."

"Do it then. But hear me first. You are young, you are reckless, and you are foolish. If you wish to keep your throne, show them strength. If you have any at all."

With that, Gisella whirled on her feet and stormed out of the king's chambers. The moment the door was closed behind her, she heard what sounded like a glass vase shatter against the wood at her back. The women were still waiting, staring at her, wide eyed.

"He's all yours," she grunted and then strode past them to find rest.