“He has compromised you, and you have allowed it. We must all, every one of us, understand our weaknesses so we can bolster them. You have never, not once in my knowing of you, demonstrated an interest in governing your land. True doesn’t relish it either, but he understands it’s his responsibility and it is in his nature to assume it. It is not in yours. It’s in yours to delegate it. Therefore, appear in the throne room to knight the knights. Inspect the troops. Preside over arbitration, and announce the rulings, but allow True to decide them. Do what it is in your nature to do, delegate, but this time do it wisely.”

“This is essentially making my son regent,” he remarked.

“It is making your son counsellor. It is paving the way to make your heir, flesh of your flesh, equipped with the experience to be king. You did not wish him to be regent and you do not wish to rule. You get both. You get what you want. All you want. But this time, with a strong realm that has strong leadership. How can you protest that?”

“And you have investigated Carrington without my consent?” he demanded. “That is not your place, Mercy. With that, you have stepped over the line to such an extent, it, too, could be considered treason.”

She sat immobile, such was her affront.

“It is the king who decides his counsel,” he spat. “And it is the king who sits in that chair.” He rapped his knuckles on his desk and commanded, “Arise.”

She stared at him and did not move.

He leaned toward her. “Arise.”

“You have two choices,” she said softly. “We can walk out that door and direct Sir Bram to find Carrington and arrest him. Or I will walk out that door and direct Sir Bram to share that the king has signed the vouchers for the man who pilfered his treasury, and as such, he relinquishes his rule but as figurehead. And the Crown Prince, True, of Wodell, has become regent. It’s your choice. Make it now.”

His expression was the definition of thunderstruck.

“Blackmail?”

“It is your choice, Wilmer, make it now.”

His incredulity melted, he glared at her and snapped, “This will be the finish of us, wife.”

She felt her heart stutter, but she did not take her gaze from his.

“It is your choice, my king, make it now.”

“And have this hanging over my head so my wife and son can use it at will and play me like a puppet?”

“At least your new puppet masters will have the good of the people of Wodell in mind, not, at best, greed, and at worse, involvement in insurrection.”

He drew back in insult.

“You speak these words to me?” he asked.

“You yourself said this will be the finish of us, husband,” she reminded him. “I no longer have the wifely duty of managing your delicate sensibilities.”