Chapter 482: The Heads of Gallowshill

Chapter 481: The Heads of Gallowshill

Lyria’s POV

Corvin turned at once towards Duke Valenridge, his mouth already opening to fashion some retort, for he plainly had something he wished to say. Yet Duke Valenridge did not so much as glance in his direction. He simply took his seat quietly, conducting himself as though Corvin were not present in the chamber at all.

Duke Thorncrest took that moment to lead me towards a chair.

I did not think it respectful to decline his gesture, even though I privately wished to sit elsewhere—next to a particular person who, for reasons I had not yet determined, appeared to be avoiding my company.

Once I was seated, Duke Thorncrest placed himself upon my left, while Lucian took his place upon my right without a moment’s hesitation, as though the arrangement were the most natural thing imaginable.

Marquess Silverwyn sat opposite me, beside Duke Valenridge, and Corvin, though reluctanctly and a distinct tightening of the jaw, took the remaining seat next to Marquess Silverwyn.

Obadiah stood by the door, his posture betraying a degree of anxiety. Marquess Silverwyn had opened his mouth to speak when Obadiah spoke up.

"The ’eads’ll be ’ere shortly. They was s’posed ter be ’ere already, if I’m bein’—"

He paused suddenly, then exhaled.

"They’re approachin’ already," he informed us.

Minutes passed in constrained quiet. The assembled company maintained the outward forms of composure expected of their station; Corvin alone appeared unable to do so.

"They are taking their time," he muttered in clear annoyance.

Marquess Silverwyn turned to him.

"Surely, my lord, you can sense their presence approaching, and rather swiftly at that. Perhaps you might grant them the small courtesy of arriving before you take offence at their tardiness."

Corvin huffed, still visibly irritated.

"I merely—" he began, but I spoke before he could continue.

"Marquess Hale," I called firmly.

He turned towards me at once, those hateful grey eyes fixed upon mine. There had been times when I had entertained uncharitable thoughts of what it might feel like if those eyes were... I drew a quiet breath, resolving not to pursue such reflections. Violence of that nature was hardly the proper answer.

"We are all h-here for a m-meeting," I said calmly. "I would r-rather you be i-involved and put your e-energy into what is to be d-discussed than into m-matters not of your c-concern."

I gave him a pointed look, allowing the silence to linger just long enough to emphasise the rebuke.

"The h-heads are on their w-way already. That is a-all you need to k-know. So p-please do not d-disrupt the peace people are t-trying to get with your i-incessant complaints. For I shall a-admit to you now—there is o-only so much I c-can tolerate from you."

Corvin stared at me, colour rising faintly in his cheeks.

"Is th-that clear?" I asked him calmly.

He only glared, as was becoming his default expression, the muscles of his jaw working.

I regarded him a moment longer.

"Are you h-hard of hearing, my l-lord? Or p-perhaps the p-porridge affected your h-hearing?"

My eyes widened slightly, and I nodded to myself as though a sudden realisation had struck me. Quite shocking, I must admit—and how was it that I had failed to perceive it sooner?

"Th-that is why you were so i-insistent upon n-not being s-served porridge. And why you c-could not pick up s-sounds as everyone e-else does. The p-porridge which y-you ate and c-cleaned t—"

"I am of sound hearing," Corvin interrupted through gritted teeth.

"Then w-why did you not r-reply when I a-asked you a question?" I inquired, my tone remaining measured yet pointed. "I f-fail to see a reason w-why you did not r-reply, if you are of s-sound hearing as you c-claim, my lord."

Corvin clenched his fist upon the table, the knuckles whitening.

"I am of only hard hearing when Your Highness speaks," he said pointedly.

I paused at that, quite taken aback. Before I could fashion a suitable reply, however, the door opened and three persons walked in.

Two were men, one of whom I knew—Jim. The other was a woman with whom I was also acquainted—Ursula. The third was a man considerably older than both, though he walked upright and with quiet dignity.

They approached the table with even steps. Once they reached it, Jim spoke first.

"I apologise fer the delay," he said. "There were—"

He sighed heavily and then shook his head.

"There were some matters that ’eld us up."

He straightened, meeting the eyes of those seated around the table.

"I am the official, an’ the overall ’ead o’ this town. Me name is Jim. Jus’ Jim."

He gestured towards Ursula, who wore a blank expression, as though the very act of formal introduction displeased her.

"I am acquainted wiv all o’ ye already," she said at last, "but I never did introduce meself proper. I am Ursula, owner o’ the inn, an’ I also assists Jim wiv ’eadin’ the town."

Then the last person spoke—a man whose presence I could not recall from any point during the day, not even when we had laboured in the fields. His voice was little more than a whisper, yet it carried a quiet gravity that commanded attention.

"I am Baldwin," he said. "I too assist Jim in ’eadin’ the town."

The three of them took seats upon the vacant chairs. Jim positioned himself at the head of the table, Ursula to his right and Baldwin to his left.

I took the opportunity to speak.

"Since the h-heads have i-introduced themselves," I said, my gaze resting upon the five men seated around the table, "then it i-is our turn. For from w-what I gathered from Jim when we s-spoke earlier, the p-people of this town do n-not know who we a-are."

I turned back to Jim.

"Is t-that not c-correct?"

Jim nodded once, the motion curt yet affirmative.

"I shall g-go first," I said at once. "Though I know you all a-already know m-me, but I a-am P-Princess Lyria."