“And so you’ve floated your thoughts about what you’d do to avoid problems like Cleon. And to ensure people can’t raise concerns about you without some actual cause.” Antimony tapped her fingertips together.
“Exactly. But some people don’t like that. And of course, there’s all the other politics. Being Heir means being visible, in a particular way, that Nestor would very much like. Now, he’d also be good at a number of the administrative tasks. I do not deny that. But there are also ways where someone - as Heir, named as Heir - can angle things their way. Take personal meetings for things that would usually be delegated, so that you’re the one holding the connections rather than the office.”
“You’ve thought a lot about this.” Antimony tilted her head. “You know many people. Especially here in Trellech itself. Don’t deny it.”
“I’m not.” Griffin snorted. “Besides, Annice keeps pointing it out. But I know a lot of people in all sorts of walks of life. Shoemakers and theatre folk and apothecaries. The nice woman at the cafe on the corner, and people at the inn, and of course a lot of the Temple of Healing folks, and not just the Healers. Still plenty of people because of Dad’s store. I mean, they saw me grow up.”
“It’s not a grasping sort of knowing, the way you do it. And with Nestor, there’s that element.” Antimony chewed on her lip. “With Nestor, I always wonder what he wants from me, what’s going to even the balance on the books. With you - or watching you with other people - it’s more about how to get something good for everyone. Especially watching you in the Court, with contentious cases.”
“That’s the place we need the most even-handed approach, don’t you think? I mostly think it’s pragmatic, though. If people keep fighting each other - even once the Court decides - it’s going to keep hurting everyone in the net of relationships. If the Court can bring them to a resolution they understand, even if it’s not the one they wish had been chosen, maybe everyone can get on with being connected still in a year or two.” Griffin rubbed his nose. “Well, maybe more than two in some cases.”
“The Rowleys,” Antimony said. “And basically all the cases that also involve the criminal courts.” She shrugged. “I see what you mean, though. And certainly, I approve of the aspiration. That is why we get on.”
Griffin waved a hand. “If I get chosen as Heir, Nestor will, presumably, continue running the civil courts efficiently. I’ll have a bit more leeway to make sure those under him are treated well.”
“Where a bit means more than none.” Antimony certainly understood the political limitations. “And he’ll still agitate against you.”
“Yes. But there’s not much he can actually do, short of proving me incompetent. Which would take a lot of effort and evidence. With any luck, he’d settle down to spending his time on improvements to the system. And I’d support that. Even if it comes with more standing around at cocktail parties on his end than I’d choose. Not just because of the standing part.”
“And you’re not worried about his connections affecting the Courts?” Antimony asked. “I would be.”
“Remember, we’re under oaths to justice and truth in that form. There are limits - codified and tested over centuries - that restrict that. And we review those regularly to adapt.”
“Huh. That’s not something you all talk about much. What was a recent one, then? A change?” Antimony leaned back.
“Oh, how to handle ranks when people returned from the War. All of a sudden, we had a lot more people who had held rank as a Captain or Major, and the way the titles play into some oaths. But at the same time, those people were no longer acting in that rank. It took us a bit to sort out, but there’s precedent for that kind of thing. We modelled it on the crossover to titles and social status in Britain, where it depends on whether that role is in play in the case in question.”
“Huh.” Antimony let out a long breath. “All right. You let me know what I can do to support you in your project. I’ll tell you if there’s particularly nasty or notable gossip. We’ll get on with things and let Nestor sort himself out?”
“That,” Griffin agreed. “It’s the only sensible way to go forward.”
She laughed and then stood up. “I’ll let you get on with your other work. See you Friday for the morning case.”
“Friday.” Griffin dropped the warding, waited until the door closed behind her, then brought it back up again. He didn’t much want to be bothered for a little, he needed to make some notes.
Chapter40
APRIL 29TH
On Friday night, Annice and Griffin had gone out for a pleasant and leisurely meal at yet another restaurant they hadn’t tried together yet. Griffin still had quite a list of those. They hadn’t even got halfway through the list of ones where the chair was easy to manage. They’d come back to the flat, companionably continuing the conversation they’d been having since they sat down to eat. It had been all about the lore related to stones and woods, and how accurate some of it was when it came to making lasting objects.
Once they were inside, it was getting on for ten. Griffin took a breath. “Meet you in bed in a few minutes? I’ve got something I’d very much like to ask you, if you’re willing to hear me out?”
Annice had been putting her cloak away, hanging it up on the hook. “Something?”
“If you’d do me the favour of listening.” Griffin honestly wasn’t at all sure how she’d take it, because he’d been very careful not to put any pressure on her future. And at the same time, she’d been slowly making it clear that she intended to be around for a bit. She’d extended her contract with Niobe again, this time open-ended. She’d claimed a mug of her own, and space by the bathroom sink. And while most of her clothes were in the wardrobe upstairs, some of them were in the bedroom. If she said yes tonight, they could get another wardrobe made to match his. And any number of other things, to make it a shared space, for that matter.
Ten minutes later, they were both in bed, though not under the covers. Griffin had tucked what he needed into his dressing gown pocket, where he could get it readily. Annice twisted sideways, her legs off to her right on the bed. She’d taken over the far side of the bed, by preference, just naturally, without asking. “You had a question?”
“First, um.” Griffin felt tongue-tied. “I promised not to ask about the future. May I? Obviously, you needn’t give me an answer right now, or until you’re ready, whatever it is.”
Annice tilted her head, considering him at some length, then she patted his knee. “You’re actually nervous.” She sounded almost delighted about it. “I didn’t know you got nervous like that? You’re always so sure of yourself.” Probably the only other time she’d seen him this flustered, come to think of it, was back when he was telling her about being Heir. One of the Heirs in potential.
“I have not, in fact, had much practice with this particular conversation.” Griffin tried to keep his dignity together, but now her eyes were crinkling up with laughter, and she was waving a hand for him to go on. He swallowed. “I know this is fast and sudden, given we haven’t been talking about things beyond the next few days. But will you marry me? Please?”
She tilted her head a little more, and now he could see and hear the bit of laughter. “First, yes. Second, is this how you are doing this?”
“Getting down on my knees isn’t very elegant in my case?” Griffin met her eyes, smiling back at her. “And I don’t exactly have a ring. Or rather, I do, but it’s a token one.” He rummaged in the dressing gown pocket, bringing out the little box, twice the size of an ordinary ring box, and opened it, holding it out to her.
