Chapter 9
Roland returned with us.
Privately first.
No guests.
No announcement.
Ismeralda saw him in my study.
Her face emptied.
Corwin stood beside her.
For once, neither knew which lie to choose.
Roland placed both hands on the back of a chair.
Steady.
“Hello, Ismeralda.”
She whispered:
“You’re alive.”
He almost smiled.
“Apparently inconvenient.”
Corwin looked toward the door.
Rafe stood there.
No exit.
I asked Roland one question.
“What did you see on the west staircase?”
He looked at Corwin.
“Three men rehearsing an attack on you.”
Not one.
Three.
Two wore masks.
The third wore a Wyclare security jacket.
They practiced timing.
One entered through the maintenance door.
One created noise at the service hall.
The fake Wyclare guard pretended to miss him.
Purpose?
Produce witnesses.
Guests would see a dangerous breach.
Roland would appear responsible.
Corwin’s company would be invited deeper into my security.
But there was more.
On a table inside the room, Roland saw photographs of my existing guards.
Notes on habits.
Who drank.
Who had sick wives.
Who needed money.
Not assassination targets.
Recruitment targets.
Corwin was not merely trying to replace security.
He was preparing to split it.
Some men pushed out.
Some bought.
Some humiliated until they quit.
By the time I married Ismeralda, the people controlling doors around me would increasingly owe their positions to Vane.
I looked at her.
“Why?”
She answered before Corwin.
“Because your old men hated me.”
That surprised me.
Not coup.
Acceptance.
She had entered rooms where Roland barely hid distrust.
Other older guards treated her politely but never warmly.
She believed after marriage they would continue viewing her as temporary.
An outsider.
So she wanted a security structure that recognized her authority automatically.
I stared.
“You manufactured threats against me because you were afraid my bodyguards wouldn’t respect you.”
Her eyes filled.
“When you say it like that—”
“That is how it happened.”
Silence.
Roland added:
“You could have earned respect.”
Ismeralda looked at him.
“You decided I didn’t deserve it before knowing me.”
Roland nodded.
“Maybe.”
Then:
May you like
“So you proved me right.”
That landed harder than anything I could have said.
