Free Revenge of the Rose by Nicole Galland Page A

not a marriage, he has leverage to drum up another match. He’d marry her to the pope if he thought he could. I know he’s got his eye toward Bourgogne, which I find annoying— the last thing I want is to marry my only legitimate kin to France’s lackey.”
    Marcus felt a seizure of fear. “If you would insist upon my marriage to Imogen finally taking place, that danger is removed.”
    Konrad downed the wine and belched a little. “I cannot force Alphonse. The delicate dance of pretending we respect each other could not survive it. But there are ways to encourage his cooperation.” Seeing the look on Marcus’s face, Konrad added disapprovingly, “Oh, for Christ’s sake, you really are lovesick, aren’t you? Must you complicate things?” Before Marcus could defend himself, Konrad held up a hand for quiet: all the doors were open to welcome the afternoon warmth, and the footsteps mounting the steps outside were growing louder. The two friends said nothing as the guard outside briefly patted down the ascending count. Jouglet bowed Alphonse into the far room of the suite, and then Konrad called out, “Jouglet, don’t you think love is an illness?”
    “Absolutely,” the troubadour said heartily, entering. “But I make a good fat living off it, so I’m glad we live in an age of epidemic outbreaks.”
    Alphonse of Burgundy bowed to His Majesty, an action consisting of bending his tall, otherwise gaunt frame over the bulk of his stomach. “Your Majesty,” he said solemnly. “I was on my way to you already. His Eminence your brother has humbly begged me to humbly beg you to reconsider Besançon’s girl as a bride.”
    Konrad grimaced. “His Eminence my brother can go bugger himself. Innocent should be castrated for sending him as papal chaperone. I can’t believe you gave him a southern room, Marcus, it should have been saved for something more worthy, perhaps an indoor privy. Uncle, play chess with me. I shall be white.”
    Marcus immediately stood and offered his stool to the older man, who took it, looking at his sovereign a little suspiciously. Jouglet knelt by the board and returned all the pieces to their starting positions with impressive dexterity.
    “Your Majesty has summoned me to play chess?”
    “Of course not, you’re an awful player, I always beat you,” Konrad said. “But now that you’re here you might as well practice. I called you because I need you for some clarifying.”
    “Clarifying? What does Your Majesty need me to clarify?”
    “A small matter, Uncle, but I didn’t specify which of us would be the clarifier.” Konrad carelessly moved a pawn two spaces forward. “Your turn. Am I correct that my father gave you the border fort near Dole?”
    “…Yes, sire, I received that honor,” Alphonse said warily.
    “Oh good,” said Konrad. “I’m so glad to know that it is firmly in family hands.” As if it were an unrelated thought, he said, “I’ve heard a rumor that your neighbor just across the river there, France’s new lackey, is looking for a new bride for his son and heir. The last one just died in childbirth or something inconvenient like that.”
    This was a lie— a setup— but the count looked so hungry at the news that Marcus almost felt sorry for him.
    “I did…I did not know of this, Your Majesty.” Trying not to look too eager he ventured, “We might offer my daughter Imogen.”
    “Well you see, that’s the thing,” Konrad said with barely masked triumph. “If she inherits all the land right up to the border, then marries the man who inherits the other side of the border— suddenly the border becomes meaningless, in a way that is not, I think, in my best interest. Of course you see the folly of my approving such a match, don’t you, Uncle? Unless of course I were to divest Imogen of her inheritance, which is within my power to do, especially if you don’t marry her appropriately. It’s your move.”
    The Count of Burgundy drew a careful breath. “I