The Corridor of Decisions

The letter had arrived that morning, and the moment I finished it, I burst out laughing.

It was a letter that laid Cassion's blunt, unbending nature utterly bare, and somehow that was exactly why it put me in such a good mood. He'd worried himself over me, and — wanting to be of help, of all things — had apparently gone to Liam with question after question. The way he flung his heart wide open for me while keeping Gadrian at a suspicious distance was rather cute, too.

I slipped Cassion's letter into a drawer. I briefly considered writing back at once, then gave up on the idea — what Cassion was burning to know was the outcome of the vassal council, and I had no idea how that would turn out either.

'I'll go see him once the council is over.' I would need to check for myself whether Cassion was settling in well at the changed palace, among all its new faces. 'Going by what Cho dug up for me, there wasn't a single servant or maid there likely to give him real trouble.' The staff of Cassion's palace had all been drawn from people Julia's influence had never touched. 'Though there was no telling when one of them might be won over.' For now, at least, I could rest easy.

"My lady, your lavender tea!"

I was doing my best to look composed, but with a council looming that would settle matters of real consequence, my heart would not sit still. I couldn't seem to focus on any one thing and kept fidgeting with this and that, until Jenice finally brought the tea out.

"Thank you, Jenice."

Time slipped past that way, and before I knew it, the afternoon had arrived. The sky had been clear all morning, but as though that had never happened, it clouded over, and the rain came pouring down.

"The vassals are arriving one by one."

Matthew came over to give his report once I had finished my preparations. His gaze lingered for a long while on the person standing at my side.

"How do I look today, Matthew?" I pulled my back off the sofa ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠where I'd been leaning and raised a hand lightly for him to see.

"As adorable as ever today, my lady."

The corners of Matthew's mouth curled upward, his face folding into wrinkles.

"Though today, I would say you are more than merely adorable."

Only then did he give my outfit a careful, thorough once-over.

"You look splendid today."

In place of an oversized ribbon I wore a crisp cravat, and a dress in a calm, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠violet-tinged shade overall. My hair had been twisted up and bound into a single neat coil, so that each time I turned my head, its ends brushed past the nape of my neck.

"That isn't Jenice's handiwork, I see."

Slow to catch on he may have been, but he was hardly a man without a keen eye.

"That's right. If it had been Jenice, she'd have turned me into one enormous gift parcel by now."

Ugh. I hated the very thought of it.

"Shall we be on our way, my lady?" Matthew asked, glancing at the clock.

I hopped down from my chair and took the lead, Matthew falling in behind me.

Only I would be entering the vassal council today. Cho and Loomdrax, Matthew and Jenice — even Rebert had all begged to go in with me, and I had refused every last one of them.

'Every one of them has shaky credentials, that's why.' Nobody could quite agree what Rebert's role in the household even was. Loomdrax was, officially, nothing more than a private tutor, and Jenice a mere lady's maid. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Matthew was a butler — but so what if he was a butler? He could hardly stand as my guardian or my spokesman.

The most defensible choice would have been Cho — and Cho, sharing my blood, was precisely the sort of person who could stand there, which was exactly why she was also the one person who must not walk in at my side. 'It could never come out that Cho is my aunt.'

"Diana, you're looking quite worn."

I had only just resolved to bring the meeting to a swift end, for the sake of the people who worried about me, when I came face to face with an unwelcome sight in the corridor. Count Kolkos.

"The council is being held on the floor below."

At my words, Count Kolkos laughed without a sound. Not out of any amusement — it was a purely ceremonial laugh.

"I came to fetch you. This is your first vassal council, no? You must be nervous. Come in with me."

His little scheme was plain as day. If the two of us entered side by side, the odds were very good that it would look as though Count Kolkos were shielding me — and as though I were the one leaning on him.

"Matthew, I've left something behind in my room. Would you escort Count Kolkos down to the council chamber?"

Naturally, I had no intention of playing along with his design. The smile slid from Count Kolkos's face.

"Now, wait just a moment."

"You would do better to head down, Uncle. I'm sure they've been talking your ear off about you down there."

Ever since I had planted the seeds of doubt about Count Kolkos among the vassals, their gatherings had not escaped our notice. Curious what they said when they huddled together, I had set Jenice on the trail, and she brought back word within half a day.

"They were talking about a man called Noanda. Apparently his quitting as Count Kolkos's aide is a very big deal."

Just as I had expected, cracks had spread through Count Kolkos's credibility. 'Which means now is the moment to drive the wedge in deep.'

So I had gone looking for a valet who had once stood close to Count Kolkos and then been cast out. Mackerie. A steady, level-headed man of thirty that year, he had served as Count Kolkos's dressing valet. There had been a time when Count Kolkos was the talk of society for his dashing clothes — every stitch of it Mackerie's work. Count Kolkos had been fond of him, and by all accounts the two had gotten along well enough. And then, without warning, the man received a one-sided notice of dismissal.

The reason was simple. There had been an outfit Count Kolkos wanted to wear, and Mackerie — stressing that dress must suit the time, the place, and the occasion — had pressed him hard to wear something else instead. Medicine to Rebert, swindling to Loomdrax, information to Cho, and the dressing of one's person to Mackerie: leaving each thing in the hands of the person best at it was only common sense, but Count Kolkos would not have it. Mackerie did not bend, and Count Kolkos — on the grounds that his valet had failed to respect his wishes — threw out a man of ten years' service without a single coin of severance pay.

It wasn't hard to guess what word he would carry to them: that the mood among the nobles had turned, and none too subtly.

Count Kolkos stood there staring at me, making no move to leave. I was still weighing how to shake him loose when his valet came hurrying over and whispered in his ear.

"Go on down and wait."

Whatever it was the valet had said, he abruptly turned and made for the council chamber.

"My lady, if you would tell me what it was you left behind, I will go and fetch it at once."

Matthew spoke in the now-empty corridor.

"Ah — it isn't a thing, it's a person. Would you bring me the one in my room?"

Matthew moved off without delay, and I walked the empty corridor alone.

Making my way down the long passage, I sank into thought. Today would decide whether all my efforts in the time since I'd returned to the past would bear fruit or come to nothing.

I found myself thinking of my parents. Every time Father attended a vassal council, he walked this corridor alone — because he needed a moment, however brief, to arrange his thoughts by himself. What had he thought about, walking this same path? I had wondered about that for so long, and now, at last, I felt I understood. The futures of countless people, all of them poised to be upended by my decision — did I have the right to decide those futures?

A smile rose to my lips before I could stop it.

I did have the right.

At the very least, more than Count Kolkos did.

'So there's no need to make yourself small, Diana. And no looking back.'

I quickened my pace.

Count Junas, the man entrusted with the southern granary lands of the present House Ehrenberg, had come up to the capital several days before.

House Junas had received its title from the royal family of Petrora, and for generation after generation since, it had served House Ehrenberg with unfailing loyalty. But still water is bound to rot, and an easy life makes a man idle. The current Count Junas had begun to ask himself just how long he was meant to live out his days tucked away in the quiet south.

He was fond enough of the plenty the southern granaries yielded him, but he envied the glittering life of the capital. From boyhood he had cared far more for commerce than for farming, and had the chance ever come, he would gladly have traded the inheritance of his house for a merchant company of his own.

But then his two elder brothers went and died, and the running of the southern granary passed to Count Junas after all. And so, for seven years on end, he lived as a faithful vassal of Ehrenberg, just as the previous Count Junas had before him.

Then the late Duke of Ehrenberg died.

The Duke's passing did not extinguish House Junas's loyalty. Someone would surely carry House Ehrenberg forward, and no one would tear the stewardship of the well-run southern granary out of House Junas's hands. So he paid the question of Ehrenberg's succession no mind whatsoever.

Until, one day, Count Kolkos came calling.

Count Kolkos made him a sweet offer. He urged Count Junas to take up the dream he had long since put away, promising that he himself would help him do it. A man who had once dreamed of being a merchant, Count Junas knew perfectly well that no arrangement survives on taking alone. He asked what would be required of him in return, and Count Kolkos asked for nothing difficult: only that the guardian be appointed quickly — and that Junas put his name forward for the post. There was no other plausible candidate to recommend anyway, and as Lady Diana's uncle, his qualifications were beyond question.

Count Junas and Kolkos saw eye to eye without the least difficulty. And so at last the day had arrived that would decide whether Count Junas's dream would be realized — or not.

He had slept fitfully since the night before. The cause was a rumor that had been circulating among the vassals for days now.

"They say Count Kolkos wipes his mouth clean the moment he gets what he wants."

'No — surely not. There's no way.'

Count Junas trusted Count Kolkos, and yet unease gnawed at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠him all the same — for their bargain had left behind not a shred of evidence. It rested entirely on each man's faith in the other. Having spent nearly the whole night staring at the ceiling, Count Junas readied himself for the council from early morning, and arrived at the Ehrenberg residence well before the appointed hour.

He was alone in the council chamber. There, Count Junas turned the decision over in his mind, and turned it over again.

Before long, the other vassals began to trickle in. This was the first vassal council to be held officially since the late Duke of Ehrenberg's death, and the vassals, seeing one another after so long an interval, were busy trading greetings.

"So the guardian is finally being decided today?"