Chapter 47

  Complacency. That was what tripped up Gwen.

  With the evening winding down, Gwen had played her part convincingly. She had been on her best behavior. The austere Mistress Kearns, her teacher of etiquette from the past, would have been proud of her restraint and attempt at humility.

  In the later hours of her performance, she had relaxed and her thoughts had drifted to her life returning to normal, with her free once more to do as she pleased.

  And as always, like a jinx, when least expected, that’s when trouble reared its ugly head.

  Graces forbid that for once everything went to plan.

  If Gwen had been paying attention, perhaps she could have avoided it. Alas, the wretch had chosen his moment too well.

  As the song ended and her dance partner bowed to exit, Niklas Lang entered her vision, taking his turn.

  In her complacency, Gwen was marginally slow to her wits. And that had been enough for Niklas to step closer, take her hand and waist just as the next song started.

  One look and she knew.

  Dilated pupils, clammy skin, sweaty palms, sickly sweet breath, the unsteady feet and hazy stupor. Telltale signs that Lord Niklas Lang was liberally under the influence of drugs and drink.

  No stranger to the recreational use, Gwen knew for a fact that Niklas was intoxicated and high as a kite.

  And as he stepped inappropriately close to her, as his sweaty hand dipped from her waist, by the sleazy look in his eyes, she was certain that the cretin was bent on making things difficult.

  She made subtle efforts to keep things civil, but the revolting man wasn’t to be deterred.

  “Know your place, wench” he whispered in a surprisingly coherent voice, condescension and lust dripping from his lips. “Be grateful that you base born were to catch my eye,” he hissed in her ear while trying to rub himself on her.

  More than angry and repulsed, Gwen was exasperated. Not for the first time, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, that deluded little men looked to force themselves on her.

  One spell and Niklas Lang would be dead in the next second. Less fatal would be a knee to his feeble loins. More merciful would be a punch to break his jaw. Most forgiving would be a slap to rattle his miniscule brain in his hollow skull.

  Alas, she refrained.

  Niklas Lang was a Triton noble, a guest of the Duchess’. The last thing Gwen wanted was to cause an incident that would put her father’s interests in Triton under sanction. Relations were tenuous as they were between the Crofts and the kingdom on account of her Ithican engagement. Gwen wasn’t rushing to escalate tensions by putting a Triton noble in his place.

  Mistaking her restraint for submission, Niklas leered toothily. “Good girl,” he whimpered with a hunger. The crowd was already starting to notice by this point, when Niklas abandoned common sense all together to grope Gwen’s behind with both hands.

  Before things could devolve further, a calm voice intervened.

  “Mind if I cut in?”

  Gwen and Niklas both flinched to see Hektor standing beside them with the other dancers having spread out. The whispers grew as the music lowered.

  Having been spotted at the entrance, Hektor had no choice but to step up and keep things from getting worse. He desperately wished that Sabina was close by. Niklas wouldn’t have dared to be so brazen with her around and even now she would have stopped the debacle just by making an appearance.

  As it were, Hektor had to be the one. And he was sympathetic to Gwen’s predicament. He didn’t need to be a seer to know that she was holding herself back from leaving Lord Lang a puddle on the ground on account of her family’s investments in Triton.

  Hektor had already sent an attendant to fetch the Duchess. He also hadn’t failed to notice that Niklas was without his entourage and travel companions. He recalled bidding the Tritons farewell just recently, they had all left with their guards, including their Ambassador Schmitt. All bar Niklas, it seemed.

  Coincidence or not, they had abandoned their compatriot and the same man was making a scene. Ever paranoid, Hektor was suspicious from the get go.

  The objective was simple; stall for his mother. Easier said than done as Hektor took stock of Niklas, noticing the signs and the manic energy about him.

  Even as Hektor raised a hand in invitation for Gwen, he was momentarily petrified as the memory of his crazed half-brother Reginald surfaced from years ago of the day he was abducted. So close to an unhinged man drudged up old demons.

  Niklas slapped Hektor’s intruding arm, inadvertently jolting him out of his stupor.

  “No, you may not!” Niklas spat heatedly. “I am not done with her,” he hissed and made to grab at Gwen.

  The music and dance had long been abandoned as everyone was instead entranced by the dramatics playing out before them.

  Hektor and Gwen moved in tandem such that Gwen came to stand by Hektor’s side, differentially half-shielded by his shoulder.

  “I must insist,” Hektor maintained a cordial tone and relaxed posture. “My lady is reluctant and you, Lord Lang, perhaps the food and drink hasn’t agreed with you,” he suggested, airing out the insinuation to the crowd of witnesses that Niklas was inebriated.

  “You dare!” Niklas sneered. “A bastard has the nerve to stand up to me, a Lord! Know your place, filth! And that wench is no lady, but a nymph putting on airs! I have just what she needs,” Niklas suggestively jostled his belt.

  The crowd gasped as one at the slander. Under whatever influence, Niklas’ tongue had run away from him. No matter what, he would be paying for those remarks.

  “Lord Lang, be mindful of where you stand,” Hektor tried to project a reprimanding tone. “I demand that you apologize.” Hektor knew his words spelled disaster, but he couldn’t have said anything else just then. He had to demand satisfaction. Couldn’t let the slight go against his mother and Gwen. Especially in public.

  In a mood swing, Niklas turned calmer. But the eyes betrayed the craze still brewing within. “You are beneath me,” he scoffed pompously. “No better than a thief. She was to be mine.” Again, he took steps towards Gwen.

  Hektor barred his path and chanced a look for help, but none stepped forth to his aid. He spotted Gideon lurking and watchful, but not someone that could help with a diplomatic solution.

  “Lord Lang, get a hold of yourself,” Hektor commanded, wrestling Niklas at arm’s length as delicately as he could. “You forget yourself. Stop this at once!” Hektor trying his best to defuse the situation.

  “Out of my way, boy!” Niklas shoved Hektor, failing to notice that he hadn’t managed to budge the boy. “She needs a man to show her her place. Your union with her is a sham. A lie that no one believes.”

  Hektor exercised a little force to shove Niklas away and create some space between them.

  “The union between Gwen and myself has been sanctioned by the Crown and with the Duchess’ blessing,” Hektor retorted, even tempered as he made a show of adjusting his jacket. “Standing in Castle Faymoren, as a guest of nobility, sent by your peers to foster our friendship, Lord Lang, your actions are verging on treasonous.”

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  Reasoning and pleading hadn’t worked, Hektor tried for threatening Niklas Lang to his senses.

  It didn’t work.

  “You think you are better than me!” Niklas snapped, parts of him twitching. “A boy whose balls haven’t dropped, hiding beneath his mother’s skirt thinks to preach a Lord of Triton! Why don’t you let the vixen speak for herself? You are not wanted here. Get gone!” he growled.

  “It was never a matter of being superior or compatible, Lord Lang” Hektor stated calmly, looking to Gwen before facing the enraged lord. “She and I were betrothed to protect our nation’s interests and to prevent her from being coerced by those who would take advantage of her and her family. A marriage of convenience and political alliance, yes. Yet upholding of the sanctity and laws of marriage all the same.

  “Besides, Gwen had her pick of suitors,” Hektor stated confidently, almost boastfully. “But none of them were the son of Duchess Sabina Ashworth who would shield her from Triton Nobles such as yourself with immunity.”

  Hektor took the opportunity to advertise the truth and at the same time legitimize their relationship. From spelling it out, Hektor hoped to deter further objections from misguided fools.

  “You think you can protect her?” Niklas challenged, eyes turning bloodshot, panting and seething.

  Hektor managed a small laugh of bravado. “Gwen is amongst the most powerful wizards of her age, Lord Lang. I’d say she is more than capable of defending herself. Dutiful daughter that she is, her restraint in not teaching you a lesson in manners is because of her loyalty. That she does not want to create an incident that would be to the detriment of her parents. Thankfully for you, Lord Lang, she doesn’t need to. I am here for that. I am here to stand between you and her.

  “To protect you from her”

  A few chuckles broke out in the audience followed by clapping at the verbal joust. Before the applause could gather steam, Niklas lunged forward and backhanded Hektor across the face.

  In the deathly silence of the hall, Niklas proclaimed, “I challenge you to a duel! For besmirching my honor. For speaking out of line to a superior. For stealing that which was mine. I challenge you to a duel. What say you?” he shouted.

  Hektor was stunned. The blow had stung, but hadn’t been particularly painful nor strong. It was the act that had shocked him to inaction. It was only when Gwen lifted his chin to meet her gaze that he returned to thinking.

  With hands that shook slightly, Hektor lowered Gwen’s own hand and offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. With a deep breath to organize his thoughts and steel his nerve, he turned to Niklas.

  “I refuse.”

  Niklas didn’t seem to believe what he was hearing.

  “Coward! Have you no pride? Are you even a man?”

  Hektor shrugged, his side of the face still smarting. “I am only sixteen,” he shared with the crowd, getting a few strained laughs for his attempted levity in a most serious situation.

  Unbeknownst to all, Gideon had moved closer.

  “Why won’t you fight?” Niklas screeched.

  “I simply do not want to, Lord Lang. Your claims are untrue and you are in the wrong. I have witnesses to the fact. I have been more than reasonable and offered you many chances to retire for the evening and apologize for your poor showing. You have refused and repeatedly insulted not only Gwen and I, but the Duchess herself, in her very home.

  “Personally, I have no intentions to be the one to jeopardize the goodwill between our nations on account of you not being able to hold your drink. I refuse to indulge a man who has taken leave of his senses. And I most certainly will not fight you,” he reiterated. “The only reason that you haven’t been thrown out is because you are visiting nobility from a guest nation and that this is house of the Duchess and Duke of Faymoren. They will be the ones to decide upon your transgressions.”

  As Hektor was speaking, Niklas surprised him with a haymaker, the cheap shot sending the boy sprawling on the floor. Niklas managed to land a kick to Hektor’s chest before he was stopped.

  Hurting, Hektor was offered a helping hand by Gwen to assist him upright. Just the left hand though, as her right hand held a wand pointed at the levitating Niklas who was thrashing midair like a fish out of water and swearing up a storm.

  The crowd had found their volume and were growing louder and excitable.

  “What is the meaning of this?” a voice thundered.

  Ambassador Schmitt emerged from the crowd to step in front of Gwen. Hektor gave her arm a squeeze and Gwen ceased her spell and Niklas fell like a heap on to the floor.

  “A timely entrance, Ambassador Schmitt,” Hektor spoke with a wince, his jaw hurting and his side aching. “Would you be kind enough,” he coughed and wheezed, repeating, “Would you tell us why Lord Lang was left without his guards and without supervision?”

  Ambassador Schmitt appeared frazzled and short of breath. Evidently the man had rushed over in a haste. Or very much wanted to paint such an impression.

  By this time, the guards had assembled and rounded round Hektor protectively. Gideon remained incognito, only because he wasn’t needed with the Croft heiress being so close to Hektor. She was plenty of protection for his lord and Gideon didn’t want to spoil the image of Hektor’s chivalrous stand, nor diminish his solitary defense of his fiancé. As it were, his ward didn’t need the help.

  Schmitt took a gander before focusing on Niklas who was on all fours and panting like a dog. He kneeled down and had to hide his grimace at the state of his countryman.

  Schmitt arose, but before he could take any action, he was interrupted.

  “Son, what has happened?” Sabina’s imperious tone travelled across the hall as she made her appearance. Walking up to Hektor, she raised her hand to his cheek, tracing the small cut that bled profusely.

  Staring at her bloodied fingertips, she turned to the Tritons. Schmitt nearly shat himself at the look Sabina bestowed upon him.

  “Guards,” Sabina uttered in an eerily hollow tone, “restrain Lord Lang.”

  The guards did as ordered. Oblivious, Niklas struggled at being manhandled, but upon finally noticing Sabina, the fight left him and he went pale as ghost. He started shivering even.

  “Son, tell me,” Sabina spoke to Hektor, keeping her eyes on the Triton.

  Hektor obeyed and gave a detailed account of what had come to pass minutes ago. Starting with Niklas’ harassment of Gwen and ending at Niklas’ cheap shot, Hektor was thorough in his retelling.

  Hektor finished his recollection to pin drop silence.

  “What do you have to say?” Sabina ordered, not asked, taking a step towards the Tritons.

  Schmitt strained all his courage not to take a step back at Sabina’s advance. Niklas wasn’t as dignified and pressed back into his guards in an effort to get away from the Duchess.

  “Your pardon, Duchess, but I cannot, in my duty, commit to anything without performing my own investigation,” Schmitt stated hoarsely, impressive in that he stood up to Sabina and hadn’t crumbled under her aura.

  “By your admission, you are questioning my credibility. And that of my son,” spoke Sabina. “Are you calling me and my son liars, Ambassador Schmitt?”

  Schmitt was visibly sweating now. He had always admired Sabina and strived to foster goodwill and earn her respect, working diligently for years to get in her good graces. With time, his adoration of the Duchess had grown and he believed her to be the very best of rulers and someone that all nobles should aspire to. She was the ideal.

  To his misfortune, he was facing Sabina ‘the mother’ for the first time. And she was beyond frightful.

  Schmitt looked to her son and he knew that Hektor was telling the truth. He glanced back to Niklas and believed Hektor all the more.

  “I am truly sorry, Duchess Sabina,” Schmitt beseeched, entreating her to understand his plight. “But I cannot proceed without due process. And your pardon, Your Grace, but I must ask that you release Lord Lang this instant.”

  Sabina stared down the Ambassador. “Why was your compatriot Lang left behind?” she interrogated. “I do not see his guards and travel companions. Nor were you here for that matter. Care to explain, Ambassador?”

  Schmitt gulped. He had already figured out that Hans Weis had manipulated Niklas Lang for a sacrificial dupe. As to why, that was not too hard to speculate.

  The Weis and Langs were political families. And rivals.

  For the shitstorm that was about to drench Schmitt, he had to admit that Hans had been sly. As Schmitt recalled the past few days, he could imagine how and where Hans could have plotted for Niklas to turn up alone and unsupervised at the right place at the right time. Or very much the wrong place at the wrong time. As to Niklas’ mental state, with Hans being a wizard, a potion or spell would have done the job in getting Niklas to bare his ugliness. Wouldn’t have been that difficult for Niklas was a detestable creature in human skin.

  The Langs were in for some unpleasantness. The loss of face would just be the start. They would surely face sanctions by the King and his court.

  As to Niklas, he would do well to come out of this alive and without being disowned.

  The thought gave Schmitt pause. It wouldn’t be entirely out of the question for someone in the Lang family plotting up the succession ladder. But he had to shelve the thought.

  “I can only ask your pardon once more, Your Grace,” he replied to Sabina’s inquiry. “I give you my word that I will be thorough and swift in my duty.”

  One of the cardinal rules of politics, never confess to anything. Schmitt could not admit to any wrongdoing until he got to the bottom of things and heard from his superiors. As he saw things, Triton would have to offer reparations for the offence along with a formal apology at the very least. But it wasn’t up to him to decide and all he could do was to stand in service of his kingdom and get his loathsome countryman to safety.

  “My son’s blood was drawn to Triton politicking,” Sabina stated, her words a snake’s rattle before the venomous strike. “Very well, Ambassador. I will allow you to carry forth your duty. Be warned that every moment you deny justice, the price will be dearer for it.”

  Everyone was spellbound by Sabina who had transformed into a goddess of vengeance.

  All but one, as Hektor chose to speak up. “Pardon me, mother, but may I be excused?” he requested, tired of it all and wanting to just leave.

  Sabina returned to Hektor and a silent conversation took place between the pair. At its conclusion, Sabina embraced her son and allowed, “Of course.”

  Hektor gave her a smile and turned to go, but not before offering the same to Gwen. “Will you accompany me, Gwen?”

  “My pleasure,” Gwen agreed eagerly and the two of them walked out, arm in arm.

  Once they reached a private section of the castle that was restricted to the guests, they separated.

  “Goodnight, Gwen,” Hektor said casually and made to leave. Before he could, however, Gwen grabbed his hand.

  Once she had stopped him, Gwen found herself at a loss for words. Not that she didn’t have anything to say, rather that there was too much that she wanted to explain but didn’t know where to start.

  Hektor looked inquisitively to Gwen and to her hand holding his. Perhaps sensing her plight, he spoke compassionately, “We’ve had a long day, Gwen,” indicating that he appreciated her intentions.

  To her befuddlement, Gwen found herself blushing and released his hand. “Thank you,” she offered gratefully.

  So much was left unsaid between them, but Hektor matched her and replied with a simple, “You’re welcome.”