Chapter 21: Gisella

Palace of the Centauri Throne: Kingdom of Karil

Sarah was waiting for Gisella to return from town in the foyer of the palace, practically bouncing on her toes, brimming with excitement for the new outfits Gisella had chosen. So when Gisella handed off a couple of tattered street rats as well, Sarah was entirely caught off guard.

"Find them rooms. See that they're cared for," Gisella ordered before turning to the nearest soldier. "Where's your master?"

The soldier stared at her blankly.

"Ronin," she snapped with a sigh of irritation. Sarah hurried off with the siblings, steering them away from an enraged Gisella. She knew better than to question her when she was in a terrible mood. "The Captain. Where is he?"

"Er, I don't—" the soldier started but she was already storming away from him.

"Useless," she muttered.

The soles of her boots slapped loudly against the cold stone as she barreled down the hall, furious. Her anger grew with every passing window and doorway through which she did not find the captain of the guards. Wasting her time. She would add that to her growing list of grievances against him.

"Hann, why is your son such a gaping asshole?" Gisella muttered to herself through gritted teeth just as she rounded a corner and saw him.

He stood in a dimly lit alcove, just outside of the dining hall and off in a corner. He was with three other men, all of them in the icy blue Karilish uniform. She stormed up to them and spoke the moment Ronin's eyes met hers.

"Coronation?" She spat. Ronin locked his lips and lowered his ale. "We were together all morning and you said nothing of a coronation."

Two of the soldiers snorted into their mugs. That was when Gisella realized what had been implied by her confession of having spent all morning with the Captain. She turned her withering glare onto them and they cleared their throats, averting their gaze.

"Men," Ronin grunted, dismissively.

The soldiers stood straight and saluted their captain in perfect synchrony before turning sharply on their heels and marching away.

"What we discussed was more pressing," Ronin told her then, shrugging his shoulders and taking another pull of ale from his mug.

"It isn't for you to decide where my attentions should lie," Gisella snapped.

"Suit yourself," he replied and began to saunter off. She hastened to follow after him as he began to rattle off the details of the coronation which he and the prince had apparently managed to plan in just a matter of days. "It's tomorrow night. Most of the nobility have been arriving all day. There is a feast tonight to welcome them. As a member of the council, you're expected to attend. I told Sarah to have a dress ready for you by—"

"I don't wear dresses," she interrupted him, storming past and whirling around so that she stood directly in front of him. She pressed one hand firmly against his hard chest and leaned in so that her face was inches from his. "No more leaving out crucial information. No more ordering me about like some common soldier. And absolutely no more attempting to dress me up or parade me about. I'm not here as a subject of your power. I'm here because you need mine. We are co-council members. You will treat me as an equal or you will not treat with me at all."

He watched her for a moment when she had finished, his gaze narrowing and intensifying as he stared back into her eyes. But she held her ground and did not budge. Then he raised a brow and glanced down at her hand still on his chest. As his lips spread into a smirk, she rolled her eyes and whirled away, leaving him standing alone in the hall as she headed back to her rooms.

Sarah was waiting for her with the nicest set of her old clothes that she had been able to find. She apologized profusely, claiming that the palace seamstress was too busy to alter her new clothes on such short notice so she would have to wear an old set tonight but something new would be ready by tomorrow. Gisella nodded and thanked her servant but, in truth, she didn't care. The frayed ends and barely noticeable bloodstains on her old clothes only served to reinforce the image she had worked hard to build for herself here. What did she care if she held onto that reputation for one more day?

Her new spies came to her as Sarah was getting her ready for the feast as she had requested. The girl, Freya, had taken the time to clean up and bathe. Her brother, Leon, had clearly spent the entirety of his time in the palace thus far in the dining hall, if the crumbs on his shirt were any indication.

Gisella gave them their assignment for the evening. A simple one and an easy test of their skill, she told them to eavesdrop, to find out all they could about who among the visiting nobility are loyal to their new king and who are not. People tended to voice their opinions louder the longer the night went on and, from Gisella's place at Nicolas' side, she wouldn't be able to overhear those conversations herself. So she was relying on the skills of her new spies to discover the potential traitors for her. The quality of their information would determine whether or not they remained in their positions.

They nodded in understanding when Gisella was finished with her instructions and then ran off to attend to their duties. Once they were gone, Gisella thanked Sarah but asserted she was quite ready to sit at a table for the evening and excused herself before Sarah could attempt to talk her into some vain and elaborate updo.

Gisella was among the first in the dining hall. She found her seat and noted it was right between two members of the council and right across from the Captain. She frowned. Had Ronin arranged it that way so he could keep an eye on her? What, truly, did he fear she would do in front of the entire Karilish nobility?

As more council members filtered into the dining hall, Gisella lost herself in intellectually stimulating conversation about the Karilish economy and potential effects of war as dinner was served. She was just debating the value of their currency when she felt eyes upon her from the head of the table.

She looked up to see King Nicolas' eyes on her, pure loathing in his expression as he held his wine glass aloft and swirled the crimson liquid haphazardly around. His jaw tensed when their eyes met and Gisella could have sworn he narrowed his gaze. She held her head higher, jutting out her chin confidently. She hadn't seen Nicolas seen he had banished her to the dungeons. Was he really still mad at her for what she had said to him?

Lady Ingrid Vogel, front runner for the position of Queen, giggled loudly and placed a hand on his arm. But Nicolas did not even look at her. His eyes remained firmly on Gisella as he drank deeply from his goblet. She frowned, biting her tongue to keep from warning him against the alcohol. A drunk king on the eve of his coronation was the last thing this country needed as it stood on the brink of war. But a warning like that would likely be met with another sentence to the dungeons and Gisella had eaten enough stale bread for a lifetime. So instead, she took a sip of her own wine and glared right back at the king.

Eventually, one of the council members called Gisella's attention back to them and she turned away from her staring contest with the king to continue her conversation with the council. But she could still feel his eyes on her. She suppressed a shiver. If it were possible to feel someone else's hatred in your very bones, Gisella thought it was possible she did. But he didn't say a word. Not throughout the whole dinner.

Nobles chattered around him. Lady Ingrid prattled on more than most, trying her hardest, on a dozen different occasions, to lure Nicolas into conversation. But to no avail. It wasn't until the end of the meal that the king made any move to alert them of his presence. His chair scraped so loudly against the stone floor when he rose that all conversation died at once as everyone looked up at him. He set his goblet down much harder than someone sober might have and raised one hand to motion for his attendant. The man rushed forward out of the shadows and leaned down as the king muttered something to him. Then Nicolas turned and left the hall without another word.

The gathered nobility stared after him for a moment of complete silence, only bursting into scandalized whispers when the doors to the hall slammed shut behind him. Gisella's gaze found Ronin who looked just as surprised as everyone else. But nothing could have surprised them more than what came next. The same attendant who Nicolas had spoken to before leaving strode down to the end of the table where they sat to deliver his message.

"King Nicolas has called a council meeting."

Gisella almost burst out laughing right then. Nicolas? Calling a council meeting? She wasn't even aware that Nicolas had ever bothered attending a council meeting, much less calling one. But bound by her duty, she rose from her seat with the rest of them and the council members filed out one by one at the command of their king.

When they reached the council chambers, they found that Nicolas was already there. A fresh glass of wine in his hands and his feet kicked up on the table, he waited for them all to sit before he spoke.

"What news of the war?" He asked simply, easily, as if he hadn't left his own coronation feast to call this meeting, as if there weren't a whole dining hall of nobles awaiting his return.

"We are in the process of strategizing our next move, Your Grace," Ronin began uneasily, clearly unprepared for an impromptu council meeting and war update. "We suffered moderate losses at the battle in Delos due to our opponents having a heavier ready fighting force than we foresaw."

"The Makana," Nicolas said with a frown.

"Yes," Ronin agreed slowly. "The Makana."

"So, what are your strategies to beat the Makana?" Nicolas asked, swirling the wine in his glass again, his jaw tense. "What are you considering as an option to defeat the strongest assembled force of enchanters ever created, united under the cause of ending Karil and tainting my father's legacy?"

"Well, we have a few opinions on—"

"What information does my spymaster have on our enemies?"

At his interruption, everyone turned to Gisella. Her lips parted slightly in surprise and she sat up straighter at their attention. Nicolas was frowning but there was a spark behind his eyes, a thrill at making someone else just as miserable as he was, at catching her in some form of failure. Even if she could argue that she'd only been in this position for a day and it wasn't fair for him to expect her to have found a way to win his war so quickly. Though this explanation was the route that Ronin decided to take when he surprisingly spoke up for her.

"Your Grace," the young captain started carefully. "Gisella has only been in her position for less than twenty four hours. She has—"

"She served my father for years, Captain," Nicolas spat. "It's hardly her first day in service to her king."

Gisella opened her mouth to admit she had nothing but then the doors to the chambers opened behind her and a serving girl she had never seen before rushed in. Her cheeks were bright red as she knelt low before Gisella and handed her a small, folded up piece of paper. Then she scurried out into the hall and the doors were closed behind her once more.

The entire council watched with interest as Gisella unfolded the parchment and perused its contents, her lips spreading into a wide smile as she did.

"My spies have returned with some valuable information this very evening," Gisella announced and members of the council began to whisper, their reactions ranging from shocked to impressed. Ronin smiled at her. Nicolas's jaw was twitching. "A list of names. Members of your own nobility and statements they have made this very evening calling your kingship into question. You may assess their loyalty yourself. A few bits of gossip seem to pertain to the fact that certain lords and ladies were seen leaving your father's festivities shortly before the assassination. It is believed that some of them knew about the attack before it happened. There is a list of their names as well. Oh, and speaking of the assassination, someone claims to have seen a tattoo on the assassin's wrist just after she committed the deed. An... eight-pointed star?"

The council had been muttering and mourning about every piece of information that Gisella delivered until the end. The moment she mentioned the eight-pointed star, the room fell silent. She looked up at them, brow furrowed in confusion. Ronin was staring down at the table, refusing to meet her gaze. Some of the councilmen had gone pale. The vein in Nicolas' neck was throbbing as he stood up, gathering his wine glass and downing its contents in one gulp.

"It's my uncle, then," Nicolas said simply and then he strode from the hall and did not return.

Gisella turned back to the council.

"I don't understand," she told them. "What do you know that I don't?"

"The eight-pointed star," Ronin explained carefully. "It's his symbol, the Chaos'. His followers adopt it when they pledge themselves to his service."

The council members launched into an urgent strategy meeting right then and there. Gisella excused herself, saying she needed to debrief her spies and check into this information with a source. Ronin watched her leave, his eyes following her movements with abject curiosity. She let him. If they were going to get through what was to come, they needed to trust each other.

She found Freya and Leon waiting for her outside of the council chambers. Impressed, she complimented them on their work and on their intuition in knowing that she would wish to speak with them once her meeting adjourned.

"Do you have further need of us, Spymaster?" Freya asked professionally.

"Not tonight, Freya," Gisella told her. "The two of you should take the rest of the night off. You've earned it."

"And you?" Leon asked.

"I have an old friend I need to catch up with."