XII—Portia Branthine of Lucia

The halls in this section were quiet.

Portia glanced about, wondering if she had taken a wrong turn. She did not want to go back to the servants and have them tell her again where Lord Ash was—worse, lead her to him.

She was not a fool.

But the House of Gates seemed to be maze of never-ending corridors, chambers, drawing rooms and libraries.

Then a well-dressed man crossed the hall. He glanced at her with a look in his eyes that was none too friendly.

The Ashes were not a kind family, and now that Lord and Lady Ash had passed on in a fire some months back, their young son, Damien Ash had taken up residence as the premier lord of their domain.

Perhaps he would show Portia mercy?

She stopped at the chamber, realizing there was a herald at the door. He asked Portia her name, and she escorted her in.

“Lady Portia Branthine,” he announced.

She strode into…

Was Lord Ash holding his own court? Inside the House of Gates with the Empress in attendance?

The chamber was dark and on the sides were Lord Ashe’s court. Ahead, he sat in a chair atop a dais near the curtained windows, cracked just enough to let in beams of orange light from the setting sun, making Ash’s features hard to see by.

But Portia swore she thought she saw his eyes glowing an evil red in the darkness.

“Branthine,” he muttered. “I know that name, do I not?”

He sat in his chair, one leg propped up on his thigh, his fist used as a makeshift support for his head. His entire being was one of boredom and contempt.

Portia swallowed. “That is right, my lord.”

Why did she feel as if she were speaking to a king?

“That’s right!” His tone became somewhat cheery. “You owe House Ash money.”

“Yes,” she said, glancing about apprehensively.

“What do you want?”

“I—I, um…”

He said nothing, only looked on at her with boredom. This was a terrible idea.

“You may not know, Lord Ash, but House Branthine has fallen on hard times. My husband and my youngest son have passed on. During the Battle of the Swine. Only I and my daughter survive them.”

“And, Lady Branthine, I care why?”

“I just… The loans House Ash have given us—they’ve seen us through the hardest of times. And I am making great strides to come up with the coin to—“

Lord Ash raised his hand, then he motioned his accountant forward. They exchanged whispers for a moment, then he turned back to her.

“You’re late on your payments—you have been for some time, Lady.”

“Yes, well, that is why I am come.”

Gods, she felt naked in this chamber. Why did this boy have such an ill effect on her?

“I will not extend you any time, Lady.”

She almost burst into tears right then and there.

“Perhaps if you just gave me a little more—“

Lord Ash jerked his head up. “Silence!”

She took a step back, fear rising within her. The impression Portia had of this boy on his throne was like that of a lion, hungry and ready to strike—ready to tear her to pieces right there on his chamber floor.

“Do you think you are the only one who has had ill fortunes come to you? My parents burned. Alive! In their own beds.” His voice dropped to a low hiss. “The circumstanced of which are suspicious to say the least.”

“I—“ she started stepping back. “Forgive me, I—“

She ran into someone and yelped.

Whoever it was, he had come into the chamber silently without the herald announcing his presence. Glancing up into the newcomers eyes, Portia realized who it was.

“That is enough!”

“Maximilian Silvanus,” Lord Ash said, a sneering smile on his face. “How good of you to come.”

“You should treat your fellow nobles with more respect, Lord Ash.”

“Why?” he asked. “She came to me—in my chambers.”

“Even so.”

“Be gone,” he said with a wave of his hand.

“And so we shall,” Maximilian said. Then he took Portia by the hand and led her out of the dark chamber.

“Gods,” she gasped, once they were in the light again. “Thank you, Lord Silvanus.”

“You should not go to that boy to do your dealings. He has an ill temper, and I fear, motives that are far worse.”

“I owe him a lot of money,” she said. “My husband, he—“

“Do not think on that,” Maximilian said, his expression one of kindness. “Lady Branthine, when we have finished here, I want you to come to me. We will sort this out. Together.”

“Truly?” she asked, her heart soaring with hope.

“Yes,” he said with a nod. “For the time being, forget about all of that. We are here. We should focus on the situation at hand.”

“On peace?” she asked. “Surely not.”

“I know your sentiment well. How can there be any peace between the Lucians and the Florencians when all we know is war and hatred?”

She sighed heavily.

“Our Lady Empress seems to think there is a way. Come, let us find out what she has planned.”

Smiling, Portia followed Lord Silvanus out of the hall.