Fic: Lines in the Sand (1/3)

[melyanna]

Fic: Lines in the Sand
Authors: angelqueen04, miera_c, and melyanna
Rating: PG
Summary: With the entire population of the Sodan arriving within days, the lords of Caldora struggle to fulfill King Henry's promise.


The journey from Cheyenne to Redwater was tense, and quiet other than the sound of hooves on the ground. With every hour, John wished he had been able to travel alone. In the spring he had come to Redwater from Madrona in less time, even having to evade the Goa'uld army.

Now, however, he had Princess Carolyn and her guards with him. Carolyn was an excellent rider but not accustomed to arduous journeys. There was also Cameron to consider. Though most of the time John would not think Cameron had been seriously injured in the last battle just weeks earlier, sometimes he would catch his cousin unawares and see a grimace on his face. On this, the third day of their journey, Carolyn looked exhausted and Cameron was trying hard not to show that he needed to rest. Though he would have continued on well into the night, John pulled his horse to a halt near a creek and raised his hand to stop the rest of the party. "We can camp here for the night," he said. There were trees on the near side of the creek, which would make it easier for the guards to secure the princess' safety.

"I am surprised you do not wish to press on," Carolyn remarked as she dismounted. "We could be in Redwater by dawn."

Delicately, John avoided mentioning his concerns for her stamina and his cousin's. "There will not be enough light in an hour or two," he said as his feet hit the ground again. "If the moon were full tonight it would be another matter. It will not be the end of the world if we delay our arrival until tomorrow evening."

Carolyn looked dubious but said nothing. John looked past her to where Cameron had dismounted. He was moving stiffly, and John worried that he had pushed his cousin too far as it was.

They settled in for the night, Cameron and John gathering wood for a small fire while Carolyn rummaged through their sparse supplies for food. "I believe Mistress Janet and her daughter are better judges of necessities than I thought any person could be," she remarked when they were all together again. "We have just enough for tonight and tomorrow morning."

Cameron chuckled as he got the fire started. "I would not tell that to either of them," he replied. "Janet would take it as further proof of her skills in nearly every field, and Cassandra is getting just as bad in thinking she has answers for everything, only she claims no one listens to her."

John chuckled. "Few young women her age have the luxury of being listened to." He glanced at the princess. "Present company excluded, of course."

Carolyn raised her eyebrows, though it was not an expression of annoyance. "I believe you may be confusing me with a different royal woman, my lord."

"Perhaps," he said, neutrally. He had heard stories, of course, of Carolyn acting as regent for her father during the fighting, but he said nothing of that. Mostly, he wished to avoid being asked to speak of Elizabeth.

If the princess had been expecting a different answer, she did not show it. Instead, she looked to Cameron. "Lord Mitchell, if it is not impertinent I would ask after your health," she said.

"Were it impertinent, it would not be my place to tell you so."

So blunt was this statement that John looked up in surprise. Cameron's ears began to get red as he realized what he had said to her, but Carolyn merely grinned. "I suppose I deserve that."

He smiled back at her. "I am well enough, Princess, but I will be glad when John and I are going homeward, and I do not have to cross this patch of earth again any time soon."

"I hope the need will not be as dire as it has been these last six months," Carolyn replied, "but I also hope the lords of Sheppard will not absent themselves from court so often now."

She glanced at John then. He pretended not to notice.

By the time they had eaten their light fare, the sun was down in the west and Carolyn retreated a little distance, as she had the previous nights. Cameron busied himself with putting out the fire, but John noticed that his eyes lingered on the princess far longer than was necessary.

John got up to get his bedroll and Cameron's out, but he did not feel like sleeping just yet. Instead, he walked north along the creek, looking at the Talas Mountains, which were just in sight, and remembering. It had been a year since he'd arrived on the northern sea, since he met Lady Teyla and helped her defend her people during a vicious attack. Since Teyla had taken him to meet Princess Elizabeth as thanks for his help. Since he'd fallen in love with the sound of her laughter and the way she would blush when he gently teased her.

That year had changed everything, it turned out.

With the earth softened by the recent rain, John didn't hear Cameron as he approached, but he was not surprised that his cousin came to speak to him. "When will you want to set out in the morning?" Cameron asked.

"At first light," John replied. "I will tell the lieutenant. The guards on the last watch will be able to wake us."

Cameron nodded. "We should be in Redwater in time for supper, then."

"Yes."

When John said nothing else, Cameron blew out a long breath. "I must confess, John, I have no wish to continue on."

"Whatever my father told you, court is not that bad," John replied. "I assume that is your objection, at any rate."

"I am discovered." Cameron smiled weakly. "I don't suppose you have any advice to share."

"Do you remember what I said before we went into battle?"

Cameron gaped at him. "You must be joking."

John shrugged. "I have found, more often than not, that most problems in court can be averted by taking a deep breath and thinking before you speak. Though this may be valuable advice for any situation in life," he added dryly.

They stood in silence for a little while, Cameron fidgeting slightly. "Cousin," he said, though with hesitation, "how great is the difference between Redwater and Atlantis?"

John looked at the creek running alongside them and sighed. "Very great and very small," he replied. "In some ways, Atalan is more of a centralized nation than Caldora, so the queen has more power and authority that is not subject to the counsel of her nobles. In other ways, people are people, and nobles are nobles. But there is one thing I would not have you forget, cousin."

"What is that?"

"You are a nobleman," he said emphatically. "Your life may not have had the trappings of court but you are none the lesser for it. The king has called for your service three times now. Let no one disabuse you of your authority."

He looked and saw Cameron swallow hard. "I still don't understand why the king has singled me out."

"Neither do I, but he has some service for you, I'm certain," John replied. "Best not to question his methods until you know them fully."

They turned back to camp then, passing between the guards and settling down for the night. "Tell me, John," Cameron said, though yawning, "when did you become an expert on such things?"

"Cousin, I assure you, I have no idea."

As Carolyn rode through the gates of Redwater, flanked on either side by the lords of Sheppard and followed by her guards, she belatedly realized that the gossipmongers would be out in force after this display. When she'd left for Cheyenne, she'd been too focused on her mission to think about taking another woman with her for propriety's sake. She had not even brought one of her own maids, her haste had been so great. Her guards were generally above suspicion in that regard, but she had little doubt that Lord John and Lord Mitchell were about to become the center of many rumors. The manner of their arrival would only add a different flavor to them.

When they came within the walls of the castle there were stable boys and servants waiting to take care of their horses and belongings. With them was Lord Paul Davis. He helped her from her horse and bowed. "Princess," he greeted, "your parents are waiting. There is much to discuss."

"Of course."

They had not made it ten steps out of the courtyard when Carolyn suddenly stopped. Lord Mitchell nearly crashed into her. "Princess?" John said softly, taking a step back and looking at her in concern.

"It is nothing," she said, trying to wave him off with her hand, but he did not look away from her. With a sigh, she lowered her voice. "Davis said that my parents were waiting." When John did not seem as though he understood, she added, "I have not seen my parents together in years, my lord."

John looked a little awkward, but then he briefly placed his hand at her elbow. "Then it would not do to keep them in suspense."

Carolyn agreed and set forth again with a little more resolve.

They entered her father's study, the room where all those weeks ago he had told her of his correspondence with Elizabeth Weir and that John of Sheppard had sworn fealty to the crown of Atalan. The information had shocked her then, but it seemed so normal now. Caldora and Atalan had met face to face. Lord John had not yet sworn allegiance of any kind to the king.

Despite this, there were bigger things on her mind now. Her parents were standing together at the hearth, obviously deep in conversation when she and John and Cameron arrived. She knew better than to get her hopes up, but it was difficult not to feel at least a little heartened by the sight.

"Carolyn," her father said, looking up. "My lords, please, be seated. You all look exhausted."

Carolyn wished she'd had a moment to wipe the dust of the road from her face, but it was not to be. Instead, they settled down at the table in the center of the room, her mother sitting beside her and squeezing her hand affectionately. Carolyn smiled wearily. "It is good to see you again, Father," she said.

He nodded. "I am glad to see you safely home. But I fear there is much business."

"This concerns the Sodan, my lord?" Cameron prompted, somewhat surprisingly. Carolyn would not have thought him comfortable speaking to the king when he was not directly addressed.

"Indeed," Henry replied. "In exchange for their forces fighting with us against the Goa'uld, I agreed to give them land. As a sovereign people."

Everyone in the room clearly knew that, and Carolyn frowned. "This was widely known before the war was over," she said. "What has transpired to make this an emergency?"

"Haikon is in court," Aurelia said. "A few days ago he informed all of us that he had sent his men to bring their families to the land promised to them."

"What?" Carolyn cried. "Has he no regard for how things are done in this country?"

"Pardon me, my lady," Cameron answered, before anyone else could. "But in all likelihood he feared that if he left the matter to run its natural course, it would take years, and the king might hope that if it took long enough, the issue would simply go away."

"My father is not so dishonorable -"

"I did not say -"

"Peace," said the king, holding up his hand. "I believe you are both right. I am not so dishonorable that I would go back on my word, even in a difficult matter like this, but Haikon has reason to worry that the process will take too long for his people. I cannot agree with his method of hastening a decision, but I can sympathize."

John was sitting opposite Henry, with his arms crossed over his chest. "What has this to do with us?" he asked.

"I know of Lord Mitchell's friendship with some among the Sodan," Henry replied, looking straight at Lord John. "And I know the debt you owe them."

The two men stared at each other in silence for some time and Carolyn glanced back and forth between them, knowing that John understood what Henry was getting at. John's sense of honor was strong, and doubly so where family was concerned, and Carolyn felt her father was being rather shrewd in appealing to that.

Finally John relented. "I will do what I can, but I am not sure how much you can expect of me."

"Well, at this point there are other matters arising," Aurelia said. "There are some who are using this moment to renew old grievances. Centuries-old border disputes among provinces are being resurrected now and laid at the king's feet."

"Let me guess," John drawled. "Is Maybourne behind this?"

To Carolyn's surprise, her father chuckled. "I do believe I will find great use for you, my lord. Great use indeed."

John looked a little put out by that, but Carolyn had to smile anyway. "Now, gentlemen," Henry said. "In an hour, I would have you join us for supper. My steward will take you to your chambers."

The two men rose and left with a bow. Carolyn turned to her father, who helped her from her chair and embraced her. "Welcome home, Carolyn," he said.

Her mother rose and embraced her as well, and she could not help but look back and forth between her parents with a smile on her face. She knew things could not be resolved between them in so short a time, but it was so good just to see them in each other's company after so long. "It is good to be back," she told them, taking each one's hand in hers. "It is good to be back."

Aurelia did not say much during the supper that followed the brief audience in her husband's study. While Henry talked with their guests of the politics engulfing the court, she was able to observe her daughter and the two gentlemen who had returned to Redwater with her.

First and foremost, she took note of their obvious exhaustion. When Lord Mitchell had walked into the dining room, a step behind his cousin, Aurelia had easily spotted the limp in his gait. Even after he had seated himself at the table, she could see how he kept his back as straight as possible, even wincing on occasion when he reached for something. She had heard of his injuries in the last battle, and hoped that his recuperation had not been seriously impaired by the mad dash from Cheyenne to Redwater, not to mention the sojourn into Atalan.

Lord John and Carolyn, though uninjured, were hardly much better, though they kept their attentions fixed on the conversation admirably. Still, Aurelia had no doubt that the moment Henry excused them, they would all three likely take to their beds.

Aside from their fatigue, Aurelia noticed other things as well. Both Lord John and Lord Mitchell were unfailingly polite to Carolyn, each offering her whatever food they reached for before partaking of it themselves. When Lord John spoke of the restoration efforts in Cheyenne and the area surrounding the city, Carolyn gave him her full attention, even adding her own views on occasion. Similarly, when Lord Mitchell spoke, Carolyn also paid close notice to him, even offering the young man a small smile here and there.

Her daughter's fondness for both men was not overly noticeable, but Aurelia knew Carolyn better than almost anyone. She could see the appraising gleam in Carolyn’s dark eyes. What she could not determine, however, was just which lord the girl favored more.

Eventually, Henry took notice of his supper companions' tiredness and released them to rest, leaving the two of them alone in the dining room.

Once the door closed, Henry turned to her and asked, "What do you think?"

She stared back at him. "I think many things, my lord," Aurelia replied with a faint smile. "You will have to be more specific."

He glared at her, but there was no heat in his gaze. "You barely said a word," he said. "Which means you were watching the three of them do a subtle dance around each other. Dare I ask which man our daughter has set her cap for?"

Aurelia chuckled. Henry had spent the entire meal discussing politics and yet had still seen Carolyn's reactions to the two men. He might not have been able to analyze it as deeply as she had, but he was by no means blind to it.

"I honestly do not know," she answered, standing up from the table. He rose with her. "She pays both men great attentions."

They stepped out of the dining room and into the corridor. Their guards were waiting for them and immediately fell into step behind them. "Just what I need," Henry muttered beside her. "A… romantic triangle."

She laughed outright this time. "I don't know if it has gone that far. I am not as familiar with the two lords as I am with our daughter, and thus it is difficult to comprehend their level of interest in her."

Henry did not share her amusement. "Those two men will be forces to be reckoned with once they enter the mess in the assembly. John of Sheppard is no fool; he grasps these issues far better than he lets on. He just prefers to keep his own counsel. For all intents and purposes, Mitchell is his cousin's heir until the man finds himself a wife and has a child with her. Mitchell is also a close advocate of the Sodan." Henry sighed. "They are as close as kinsmen can be. The only thing I can see driving them apart is a woman, and I dearly hope that will not happen, least of all with Carolyn in the middle of it."

Aurelia had to admit that her husband had a point. Right now the two were closely allied to each other, bound by their shared cares for their home province and their common debt to the Sodan. To have them at each other's throats would be disastrous. Nonetheless, she shook her head. "I do not believe it has gone that far. I also do not think it will while politics is on everyone's minds."

They continued to walk the corridors of the palace, and eventually came to a halt in front of the entrance to Aurelia's chambers. Henry turned to her and offered her a tired smile of his own. "Sleep well, my lady," he said quietly. He looked slightly nervous, and when she did not immediately move away, he leaned down and brushed his lips over hers chastely. Aurelia didn't even have time to react before Henry stepped back and moved off down the corridor in the direction of his own chambers.

She stared after him, her pulse racing. Damn the man, but even after years of heartbreak, sorrow, and upheaval, he could still make her heart pound.

The castle in Redwater was very crowded. Nearly every nobleman in the country was in the city, and to make matters worse, many of them had sent their wives and families to the capital, where they would have been more protected had the army failed in the west. Most of them had not yet gone home.

All this meant that John and Cameron were forced to lodge together, but more than that, the palace was terribly noisy late into the night. Inwardly Cameron was annoyed by this, for it took him far longer than it should have for him to fall asleep.

Despite this, he slept well, likely the result of the journey they'd taken from Cheyenne. The terrain was not too difficult, but often Cameron's muscles still ached. He had only to hope that his body would be his own again soon, no longer subject to the lingering effects of the war.

In the morning he and John rose early, taking breakfast in one of the large dining halls in the lower levels of the castle. They did not say much, for John seemed to be brooding a little. It took Cameron a while to realize why. He was nervous. Though it had been some time since John became the marquis and he had served the king with his fellow noblemen on the battlefield, this was clearly a different beast to be mastered. Cameron wondered how much of John's mood was centered on the last time he had appeared before the assembly, when he had been sentenced to exile.

The assembly was meeting relatively early in the morning, and Cameron followed John through the labyrinth of corridors to the great hall. It was only when they came into the well of the hall that he realized that he had no idea where he was to go. John was a member of the assembly and had a seat inside. Cameron did not.

He glanced about and saw galleries above on either side of the wedge-shaped room, but in the front of the chamber something caught his eye. Stairs led to the galleries, as in the back of the room, but between one of the galleries and the stairs was a gate of wrought iron. Behind it, he glimpsed the princess.

Curious, he went behind the dais and ascended the stairs. At the top, he was almost immediately halted by a guard, but his steps had caught her attention. She saw him, and the guard looked back. "Let him enter," she said, moving over a chair in the tiny booth. A young woman stood just behind her, presumably one of the princess' attendants.

"Princess," he said, bowing to her once he'd passed the guards.

"Lord Mitchell. Are you rested this morning?"

He took the vacant seat and nodded. "Yes, my lady. A good night's sleep did wonders."

Carolyn smiled. "I can well understand that."

Cameron looked around the little room curiously. "I know I have only been in Redwater once before," he said, "but I did not know this place existed."

"It is here so members of the royal family may observe discreetly," she explained. "My mother will not be here this morning, so she gave me leave to attend in here."

He thought of the way she had comported herself in Cheyenne, aiding John as she could, and what a challenge it must have been to stand as her father's regent. In light of such struggles, it struck Cameron as particularly unfair that she had no place of her own in the assembly below.

Cameron nodded to Carolyn's companion, but before he could be introduced, the hall below settled and quieted, as though prescient of the king's coming. Indeed, mere moments later, a door in the rear of the room opened and King Henry entered. Instinctively Cameron rose, and the nobles on the floor did as well. He glanced at the princess, who had not stood, but a moment later she got to her feet. "No one will mark you here," she said lowly.

"Certain decorum ought not be ignored," he replied. "No matter who can see."

Carolyn smiled, but showed no signs of condescension in the expression. Cameron felt his neck get warm for no reason, and he was grateful for the relative darkness.

The king took his throne and banged an ivory globe on the arm of the seat. The crack filled the hall three times, and the assembly came to order. In their little perch, Carolyn and Cameron both sat down again, as did the men below. Henry began, "Six months ago we learned that the Goa'uld had crossed the Mearali. Six months ago, Lord Haikon of the Sodan came to us with a proposal which we were in no position to refuse. As you know, we promised the Sodan land in exchange for their blood in fighting the Goa'uld."

At the memory of that day and the battles which followed, Cameron's fingers dug into the arms of his chair. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but the feelings of dread had not lessened with time. He suspected they never would.

"The assembly will not debate the giving of land to them," Henry continued, a note of warning in his tone. "The king will honor his debts."

Fleetingly Cameron thought of the aid from Atalan. While the king had insisted they would not accept infinite aid from their northern neighbors, Cameron wondered how indebted Henry felt and how that debt would be repaid.

"We will take advisement from this assembly on what lands will be ceded to the Sodan, and then we will make the final decision."

There was a moment of fraught silence, and then an eruption of talking from nearly every man in the room.

Again ivory struck wood and the assembly quieted, though grudgingly. "We will hear you in an orderly fashion," Henry said darkly.

A handful of men rose, and one by one they sat down again until the only one remaining was a rotund gentleman with a ruddy complexion. Carolyn leaned over to Cameron and whispered, "The Marquis of Medinah, Lord Thomas."

He nodded, grateful to know whom the king was acknowledging. "Sire," he said, "the west has given enough."

There he paused, no doubt for dramatic effect, but Maybourne, without waiting for permission to speak, called out, "You, who would not deign to come to the front to defend your own people?"

There was a burst of angry, energetic chatter upon that pronouncement and Cameron almost winced. "You do not like the ebb and flow of the assembly's moods?" the princess murmured, though there was a touch of sarcasm in her voice.

"The summit was trying enough, my lady," he answered, softly enough that the lady behind them could not make it out.

"You shall have to tell me about it sometime."

He looked at her quickly, wondering how much her father had disclosed to her about it. Belatedly he realized that it could not have been much, since the king could have only told her about it the previous evening. "I will," he said quietly.

Down below the shouting seemed to be restricted to a few, namely Maybourne, Medinah, and Dixon. Lord David's voice was carrying above the rest. "Do you honestly think, Maybourne," he said, "that my people should continue to sacrifice so that your house will be comfortable?"

At that question the room fell silent. Maybourne's posture was stiff; Cameron could tell even from a distance. "Sir," he said carefully, "I would suggest that the west gained the most from this partnership with the Sodan."

Dixon looked livid, and Cameron wondered why John was saying nothing, though he appeared equally angry. But it was Stephen Caldwell who stood next and faced Maybourne. "Without the Sodan none of us would have survived," he said. "You on the east have perhaps more of a debt to them, for the west suffered what you did not. Sheppard and Dixon have lost more than the rest of us. We cannot bleed them dry."

A brittle silence fell over the hall, and Cameron wondered how many had ever contradicted the Duke of Icaria and lived to tell about it. He looked at his cousin, who had an expression of dark annoyance on his face. It seemed there was little in the world which irked him more than having to think well of Stephen Caldwell.

Yet Maybourne was not finished. "Then who will yield, my lord duke?" he asked, rather impertinently. "You?"

Caldwell said nothing, but only glared at Maybourne. From the expression on the duke's face, Cameron imagined the low growling of a dog just barely restrained from lashing out.

"We will convene again in two days' time," the king announced, ending the discussion before Maybourne could foolishly goad anyone else. "At that time, we will expect proposed schemes to pay our debt." Henry gave them all a warning glance before adding, “And not more petty bickering.”

He cracked the ivory against the throne again, dismissing the assembly. Slowly the men began to disperse. Cameron looked at the princess, who looked unhappy. "Why did your cousin not speak?" Carolyn asked.

"It is not his nature, I suppose. Not in this setting."

"He survived in a foreign court," she protested.

"And once was cast out of this one," Cameron pointed out. Carolyn looked taken aback for a moment. "I cannot blame him for any wariness he might feel."

"He is a better leader than this," Carolyn said, sounding frustrated.

"Yes, he is," he replied. "But he must come to realize this on his own terms, not ours."

"He may not have the time."

With that oblique pronouncement, Carolyn rose. Cameron had barely risen from his chair before she had exited the little booth, her attendant following closely at her heels. He was left in the dark room, wondering what her rush was.

John quit the hall and wandered for a bit around the castle's interior. It had been long enough that he could not remember clearly the path to the outdoors, and he was perhaps not thinking with clarity at the moment. The desire to go back and throttle Maybourne was distracting him.

Lord Thomas at least had sent men to join the king's army, if he had not come himself. Maybourne and the others had dragged their collective feet about sending troops to the front until the Marquis of Sheppard had shamed them into it. John had been willing to use his influence and authority on that point, but sitting in the assembly hall made him vastly uncomfortable.

He could hardly forget that it was in that room that the assembly had pronounced him guilty of murder. Most of the men sitting in that room today had been there then, deciding against him whether for justice or politics or spite, and the king had exiled him for the terrible crime of defending a helpless and abused lady.

John remembered his mother’s tears and the unforgiving fury on his father's face.

Being back here brought all his latent anger to the surface. It was all he could do to hold his tongue this morning as men whose lands were untouched by the devastation of the invasion bickered over yielding an acre of land. Some were using this moment to dredge up old conflicts over borders, not unlike Lord Malchus had in Cheyenne.

John still found politics utterly distasteful, even after all this time.

"Lost already, Lord John?"

He turned around to find Stephen Caldwell looking at him in amusement. He glowered a little. "It's been many years since I had freedom to walk through this place," he said belligerently.

Caldwell had the grace to look slightly chagrined. The duke had sided with the majority in John's trial, but not vocally. More importantly, he had backed up the king's decision to commute the death sentence for murdering a nobleman and exile John instead of ending his life or imprisoning him. Many of Lord Makepeace's allies had been calling for John's blood, but when the second most powerful man in the country had supported the exile, John's life had been spared.

John doubted he would ever have simple feelings about Stephen Caldwell. He had reasons for gratitude for the man, but it had never left John's mind that if Caldwell had opposed the guilty verdict in the first place, John might have been acquitted and the last four years would have been different indeed.

Caldwell gestured and John followed him to the duke's private study. They settled into chairs and John accepted the mug the other man handed to him. He sighed, trying to clear his head. The past was the past, and he needed to take his father's advice and let it go.

"My people owe you a debt, my lord," he said, keeping his voice even by sheer will.

Caldwell waved a hand. "You needed those supplies more than anyone else. I heard the king's report when he returned from his brief stay in Cheyenne. I could not keep food from women and children who were starving in the streets."

That seemed to be as much acknowledgment as Caldwell would make, and John was not particularly inclined to continue to press gratitude onto a man who didn't want it. The conversation turned to Cheyenne and the slow progress of repairs there. John drained his glass and growled in frustration. "Most of it must wait, now, while my cousin and I are both here. I need to journey to the mountains and speak to the herd masters before we can make any further decisions, but given what we saw this morning, I doubt these conferences will end swiftly."

Caldwell nodded. "I saw one of Maybourne's lackeys arguing with Lord Davis earlier this morning about border disputes. I fear this could dredge up every conflict within the kingdom from the past generation."

John groaned. "Meanwhile the Sodan wait interminably and all other business in the country comes to a halt. This bickering is pointless. Someone will need to yield. Why delay the inevitable needlessly?"

The other man shrugged. "Jockeying for position and power is endemic to any court. I'm certain you know that."

The reference to Atalan did not help improve John's mood, but he held his tongue.

Caldwell studied his drink for a moment. "I noticed you gave no opinion during the morning's conference," he said carefully.

John tensed, sensing there was some hidden objective behind the comment. He kept his voice neutral. "Others ended the argument before my voice was needed," he pointed out with a tiny tilt of his head.

Caldwell didn't fall for the dodge, however. "Other than Lord David, the person best able to speak to how little the western lands can afford to lose anything more now is the marquis, who also outranks Dixon in court. Yet he remained silent."

John could feel his temper slipping. "What is your point?"

Caldwell leaned forward, elbows on the desk. "I can appreciate that it is uncomfortable for you to be back here, but has not the time come to put the past away and focus on your duties here and now?"

"What do you think I have been doing the last six months?" John retorted.

"I am not speaking of the necessities of war and survival but the place of the Marquis of Sheppard within the nation. I wonder whether you have yet truly embraced your new role in life, and your responsibilities, Lord John."

"My responsibilities are to my people, Lord Stephen, and they are never from my thoughts," John pointed out.

"And what about your responsibilities to your king?" Caldwell shot back. "You still have not given King Henry your oath after all these months. I am not the only one questioning whether your loyalty truly is with Caldora or not."

John stood up, nearly knocking the chair over in his haste. "What would you have me do, my lord? I swore my fealty to Elizabeth of Atalan, and only she can release me from her service. If I were to vow my loyalty to King Henry I would break faith with her and dishonor myself in the process."

Stephen reflected on that for a moment. "Have you asked?"

John looked up sharply. "What?"

"Have you asked the queen to release you? She must have given at least tacit permission for you to remain here. If she is as intelligent as you keep insisting she is, she must understand your responsibilities to your people and your country. If you were to ask for release, would she be so petty as to deny your petition to resign her service?"

John gaped. He could come up with no answer to such a question, for of course the thought had never occurred to him. Objectively, in such a situation, usually the monarch would release someone from service if other needs arose. Men and women left the service of kings and queens for family reasons all the time.

John had never thought to seek Elizabeth's permission to resign from her service. He didn't want it. Was he not now tortured by the idea that Elizabeth did not care for him? The only tie he had remaining with her and with Atalan was his vow on the day of her coronation.

Now Caldwell was staring at him expectantly, suggesting coldly that John sever that last tie.

It was what duty said he should do, but everything in him rebelled at the thought.

John's hands balled into fists. "Do not speak callously of things you do not understand, my lord duke," he said lowly, before turning and departing without bothering to give any sign of respect. He did not trust himself not to strike out, even though in his heart, John knew it wasn't Caldwell he was so furious with, but himself, Elizabeth and the universe in general.