The Blood Spell (Ravenspire, #4)(13)
But for now, she had something more pressing to face.
She had to figure out how to create gold before more children signed their lives over to the brokers or simply died in the warren of back alleys and dingy neighborhoods because they lacked the basics to survive.
FIVE
DINAH CHAUVEAU SWEPT into the royal council chamber ahead of the representatives of the other eight head families and dropped into a deep curtsy before the queen. Dinah’s red gown contrasted beautifully with the emeralds she wore at her throat and wrist, and her brown hair was swept into an elegant updo with a sharp hairpin resting in its depths in case Dinah needed a weapon. She oozed power, wealth, and absolute confidence.
The queen smiled in welcome. “So lovely to see you, Dinah. Prince Kellan said he didn’t get a chance to talk to Lord Chauveau yesterday. I hope your husband is well.”
Dinah’s teeth set, but she answered the queen’s smile with one of her own. “Good morning, Queen Adelene. James is quite well, thank you, though he was a bit under the weather yesterday. He regrets not being able to meet with the prince.”
Actually James, the true head of the Chauveau family, at least in name, had known nothing about the prince’s visit, and neither had the extended members of the Chauveau family. Her plan had been to shine a spotlight on her daughters for the upcoming betrothal without reminding the prince that there were also several eligible nieces within the Chauveau family tree. Plus she intended to keep her feckless, irresponsible husband far away from the royal family. She didn’t need the prince wondering if the strength of Dinah’s empire rested on the shaky pillars of a gambler who would rather pursue his next pint of ale than the throne. Besides, Dinah had taken him well in hand—removing the bulk of their income from his solicitor to hers and making sure every bit of the considerable business empire she’d built in his name had her name on the property deeds.
Now she rose and moved to her assigned seat at the queen’s right hand. It had taken her nearly a decade to earn it. To arrange the deaths of the three Chauveau heirs who came before her husband’s claim to the family’s title so that he could rule the clan and to expand their business interests until her income and holdings surpassed even those of the powerful Gaillards. Along with increasing the Chauveaus’ wealth and position, Dinah had spent much of those ten years currying favor with the queen.
The queen had been cautious at first. She wasn’t a woman with close friends outside the Barbier family she’d left when she’d married the king, and with good reason. She was surrounded by people who either wanted her favor, her coin, or her throne. Dinah had pretended to want nothing but the good of the kingdom itself so that her own empire would be protected.
And now all her work was paying off. She was at the queen’s right hand for every council meeting. She and her daughters were frequent guests at the castle for private teas and brunches. No one dared bring up the fact that Dinah had been nearly penniless when she’d married into the Chauveau family. Not if they wanted their own empires to remain intact. Her wealth and position were rivaled by none, which made her family the strongest choice for an alliance with the Renards.
An alliance wasn’t the thing Dinah truly wanted—sharing power was nearly as bad as having none at all—but it would open doors she couldn’t open for herself, and one of those doors would lead her to the kind of power no one would ever be able to take away.
As the council members found their seats, the door opened one last time, and the crown prince entered. He was dressed in a royal-blue day coat with a purple cravat and the Renards’ signatory ring on his right hand. The message was clear: he was their future ruler, and he expected each of them to remember it.
Dinah met his gaze and lowered her head respectfully.
The sniveling brat had never had to work for anything in his life.
He didn’t deserve the power of the throne. He’d sacrificed nothing to gain it.
The meeting lasted nearly three hours. When it was over, Dinah swept out of the room, down the long hallway that led back to the entrance hall, and then out the front door. She was nearly to her carriage when someone yelled her name. Stopping short, she turned and found one of her household pages rushing toward her, a piece of parchment clutched in the girl’s hand.
“My Lady, your solicitor stopped at the house and said this was urgent.” She pushed the parchment into Dinah’s hand and stepped back.
Lady Chauveau, please come see me immediately on a matter of some urgency.
Dinah read it twice and then stepped into the carriage. “Go to my solicitor’s office. Hurry.”
Had one of her export ships been robbed? She’d heard there were issues with pirates on the stretch of sea between Llorenyae and Ichil. Had one of her buildings burned? Or was there an issue with payment from one of her many business interests?
The scenery flew by the window as the coachman drove the carriage quickly through the cobblestoned streets. Dinah settled against the cushions and forced herself to be calm. Whatever had happened, she would deal with it quickly and decisively before any hint of a problem reached the queen’s ears and weakened the appeal of a betrothal to one of Dinah’s daughters.
She wanted that throne. Needed it. It was the key to making sure no one could ever break her and leave her powerless again.
Her solicitor rented space above a bakery. The smell of warm, sugary bread followed Dinah as she marched up the outside stairs and entered his office.