-Chapter 13-

The next morning, at Buckingham Palace…

Gregori found Carmelia in the ballroom, playing with one of her new instruments. She had been receiving gifts from many a lord since the announcement of her coronation. Some were dresses, some were toys and some were musical instruments – each one a bribe. All of which had increased in richness and quantity since Lord Lancaster's death, as though such favors could so easily absolve them of blame. Carmelia had of course received each gift with due gratitude and easy assurance to each of the lords and ladies, but what she was planning, none could fathom. They could only chance the faint hope of her pleasure and plot on their escape.

Meanwhile, Carmelia had taken especially to one of the musical instruments given to her by Lord Randall and had gone to the ballroom to practice her playing. The instrument is question was a glass armonica, delicately fashioned, the stand gilded in silver. Each glass cup was of a different size, each producing a different note when stroked and rubbed using a wet finger. The instrument was most fashionable in court at the moment, yet few could play it with the deftness of the Princess. Thus, on this day, a few young ladies of the court had chosen to attend the Princess to listen to her playing and meanwhile attempt to befriend the young queen-to-be.

In the corner of the ballroom, Gregori waited for the Princess to finish playing, motionless as wave after wave of pure crystalline notes washed over him. The tune was almost eerily beautiful, each sound startling in its soft intensity even as the Princess spun and rubbed the glass faster and faster. Finally, the song ended in a long haunting note as the ladies clapped in admiration. Carmelia stood and curtsied at the applause, smiling all the while. She looked most a child then, pretty and innocent and pleased at her accomplishments. However, when her eyes met Gregori's across the room, it held a cruel malice which was gone an instant later.

"My ladies, I'm pleased that you have enjoyed my poor playing, but I'm afraid that I can no longer entertain you this afternoon." Carmelia said as she turned back to the waiting ladies.

"I beg your pardons, but I have other urgent matters to attend to." She continued her face contrite as she gave what no less amounted to an abrupt dismissal of her unwanted playmates. "All of you are of course welcome to stay and make yourselves comfortable. I am sure the servants will see to your comforts."

With that, Carmelia swept out of the room, Gregori following at her heels. Out in the hallway, Carmelia stopped and turned to face her butler, her expression one of innocent expectation.

"So Gregori, how is my game progressing?" she asked, her tone happy and excited, almost as if she was asking about a new toy.

"Mistress, Duke Lawrence is dead. He was murdered on his way to the Tower of London. The perpetrator committed suicide before she could be arrested."

"Oh dear," the Princess sighed, turning away "another dead relation."

Tilting her head as she glanced back at Gregori, her lips twisted in amusement. "How many dead relations do I already have Gregori?"

"Three, Mistress." Gregori replied, his voice and demeanor as indifferent as if they were discussing the weather.

"Three," Carmelia savored the word, "and many more to come."

"Gregori," Carmelia called as she glanced at him, her ash-mauve eyes betraying her pleasure, "make sure our good friends of the nobility hear of the Duke's unfortunate demise."

With a silvery laugh, she made her way back to her room, the sound the echoing through the hallway like the sweet tinkle of bells, each note as pure and crystalline as the armonica she had played earlier. The sound as chilling as the armonica's tune – the madness of the devil's instrument.

Later that day,

The nobles convened a council in secret to discuss the matter of the Duke's sudden death. As always, Advisor Galen had managed to innocuously present himself at the meeting even though he had not been invited. The nobles bristled at his presence but said nothing.

Meanwhile, a raging debate was taking place among the polished wooden tables of the Marquis's hall.

"Princess Carmelia cannot ignore the Duke's death! This is an insult to England! How dare those French dogs plot to kill Duke Lawrence! We must answer, and answer with war!" Marquis Midford roared. His determination to protect his country was a noble sentiment and many cheered in answer to his cry. However, despite the answers of "war!" and "England", most of the nobles seated among the tables were more concerned about the profits of war than their country's well-being. Wolves could always smell when there was prey to be had, and the lords and ladies of England were no different than those vicious predators at the scent of gold and riches.

On the other hand, there were those, who argued most valiantly against such needless bloodshed and violence, trying desperately to persuade the Marquis to negotiations with France. Unfortunately, they were most dismally outnumbered and could barely be heard above the din.

Finally, as the room was about to burst out into violence, Adviser Galen rapped his walking stick on the table and brought the room to silence.

"Let us take a vote", he announced, "so we may give the best possible advice to our Princess and to England."

The opposition shied at such a notion, knowing full well that they stood to lose within a heartbeat. "Adviser Galen!" one of them cried out in desperation "Surely you do not support such folly! War would destroy us all!"

"We will take a vote." Advisor Galen repeated, undeterred, his voice soft but firm as he stared unrelentingly at the speaker. "What I support is the good of England and that will be determined by the collective voice of all of us here today."

With that, the battle was lost and everyone knew what the outcome would be, a fate of bloodshed and battle – of war.