Page 81 of A Courage of the Chosen

I find myself alone at the food table, for the first time in hours. And when I say alone, I mean as alone as a newly announced queen can be. There are a couple of guards, who have tailed my every move since I stepped more than ten yards away from the dais.

Lord Garside approaches me, inspecting the dessert platters before selecting a small lemon-curd filled tart.

“Good choice,” I say, taking my own and chewing quickly.

He hums appreciatively, washing the pastry down with a sip of wine.

“I want to thank you for your support, Lord Garside.”

He gives me his full attention, those teakwood eyes appearing brighter beneath the dimmed lights of the great hall.

“I must apologize for my earliest skepticism. Your story seemed almost too farfetched. It was only when I saw your grandfather that I truly believed it.”

“I accept your apology. You’re a man of logic, and you didn’t have a lot of evidence to go on, so I can see why you were reluctant.”

It had been easy to navigate this with Lord Haddow and Lady Calder, the conversation flowed, and I was able to discretely tell them what I intended to do with the supply runs, giving them each slightly different information and asking them not to repeat it. They’d readily bought that I didn’t trust anyone else on the council.

Lord Garside is a lot more difficult to read, and I can’t determine what he’s thinking as he waits patiently for me to continue.

“You’re clearly a respected member of the council, and I hope I can trust you moving forward?”

“Of course, Your Majesty. It’s my role, and my honor, to serve the rulers of Elfayne.”

My heart skips a beat in my chest.

Here goes nothing.

“In fact, there’s something I’d hoped to speak with you about, and only you. I value your input more than the others. Please don’t repeat that,” I add with a gentle laugh that I hope is convincing him.

Lord Garside puts down his wine glass, looking around us to check we’re out of earshot, lurking guards aside.

“How can I be of service?”

This man’s poker face is next-level impressive.

“It’s about the wagons, I’m sending them out again. What are your thoughts on using Ratagan Pass?”

He lifts his head as he contemplates my question, deep-red hair turning auburn as he moves. “It’s not well travelled, and potentially vulnerable to attacks, as it’s not easy to traverse. However, if you’re insistent on sending more wagons out—”

“I am,” I interject. “Seelie need our help. I won’t leave people any more vulnerable than they already are.”

Lord Garside nods, as if he expected such a response from me. “Then Ratagan Pass is a risk that might be worth taking, if it means the goods reaching their destination. I would recommend additional guard protection. The forest is thick along that route, and known to be a popular spot for Brollachan.”

“Thank you for the advice. I’ll make the arrangements then. I’d appreciate it if you kept this conversation between the two of us?”

I didn’t mean for the last part to sound like a question, so I tack on a smile, and pray to Dhia that Lord Garside is buying this sub-par performance.

“I’m not one to gossip, Your Majesty. What is discussed between you and I, will remain that way unless you ask me otherwise.” His response is stiff, and I think I might’ve offended him.

“Thank you,” I repeat, feeling increasingly more foolish the longer we remain here.

“Well, enjoy the rest of the evening, Your Majesty.” Lord Garside bows and briskly walks away.

With a deep sigh, I shovel another lemon tart into my mouth in one bite, and turn to face the room as Rach and Brodie join me.

“You’ve got a bit of something.” Brodie points to the tip of my nose. “Right there.”

I scoff as I slap his hand away. “Don’t. That made me physically ill.”