Caldur looked at Herald, who shrugged nonchalantly and said, "I can spare a few men."
"How far have the abductors gone?" Lord Norbury asked, his voice dry and steady, as though he were discussing a case in court.
"Far, but still in Malveria," Caldur replied.
"How far?" Norbury pressed.
"Just close to Hartfield." Caldur answered, his lips tight with a restrained impatience.
"Which is remarkably very close to Ivandell," Herald chimed in. "Is your father aware of this?"
"I have already sent a letter to him."
"Funny that these men were so comfortable going through Ivandell with a queen without any worry," Herald said, the corner of his mouth curled upward, though the sneer was more out of cynicism than humour.
Caldur narrowed his eyes. "What are you implying?"
"That I just find it suspicious," Herald leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and giving a slight shrug, as if the matter wasn't worth his full attention. "The Queen of Malveria, kidnapped in her own land, being transported through your father's lands… and then you, being in charge in her absence? Sounds convenient to me."
Caldur's fists clenched beneath the table, but he managed to keep his expression neutral, a slight quirk of his eyebrow betraying his irritation. "Lord Beaumont, if you want to accuse me of something, I would prefer for you to be straightforward."
"You know your actions speak against you," Edward said quietly, his tone calm, his hands clasped atop the table as if in silent judgment.
"What actions?"
"Your delay in informing the council. It has been over 12 hours after her abduction and a meeting is just being conducted."
"I got the information late." Caldur shot back, jaw tightening.
"Still. If Thurston had been in charge…" Everett added.
"Which he isn't." Caldur interrupted, his tone defensive, almost challenging.
"I'm sure the Queen would have been found already, or there would be trails," Everett continued, ignoring Caldur's words altogether.
"And what would he have done that would be so different from what I did?" Caldur asked, his voice rising, trying to match Everett's conviction. He was done with the insinuations, done with feeling like a child in front of these men.
"He would have written to the Lord Marshal of Malveria," Herald said smugly, his lips curling with satisfaction. He was confident in his own knowledge, and there was a certain amusement in his voice, as if Caldur's failure was some grand spectacle for him.
"I had already instructed—"
"Commander Francis," Herald cut in, the distaste in his voice plain. "Commander Francis is the Lord Commander of Aldenbury. He doesn't have extensive knowledge of the lands like I do, and neither do his men. He was trained to protect the royal family—not to hunt bandits."
"Have you written to the dukes?" Everett interjected, as though he hadn't noticed the growing tension.
"Which ones?" Caldur asked, his voice lower now, edged with frustration.
"All of them." Everett replied, leaning back slightly, as though he were in a position of authority.
His jaw clenched, but he kept his composure. "I have not sent them out."
"That is another mistake that you—"
The heavy wooden doors of the council chamber suddenly swung open with a loud thud, the echo bouncing off the stone walls.
Thurston entered, unbothered, unhurried. He walked in with the ease of someone who owned the place. He barely spared any of them a glance as he made his way to his chair and sat, ignoring the silence that settled in his wake.
His chocolate-brown hair was slightly tousled, likely from riding hard to the palace. He was, as always, irritably handsome—his jaw sharp, his nose straight, and those storm-grey eyes sharp enough to cut. The kind of eyes that made a man feel stripped bare if looked at for too long.
Caldur said nothing. None of them did.
Thurston had practically insulted them all by barging into the council room mid-discussion. But Caldur doubted anyone would dare say a word. Some feared him, others respected him far too much to challenge him. Not only because of his position in court, but because of what his name meant in Malveria.
He was the son of Garrick Elmsford.
And that alone carried more weight than any title.
Garrick was feared—unapologetically so. A man untouched by the law, and unbothered by consequence. And he made sure his enemies knew it.
Thurston, his heir, was destined to inherit more than the Elmsford name. He was next in line for the Dukedom of Elmsworth—a name proudly derived from the family itself. Pride was practically a tradition in that house. But it wasn't pride alone that made them powerful.
They were rich. The richest in all of Malveria, perhaps the richest in the South.
But it was their iron grip on weaponry that made them untouchable.
They didn't forge mere swords and axes. Garrick had taken it further—investing in gunpowder, firearms, and tools of war that no other house dared rival. And it made people think twice. Because the Elmsfords didn't just sit on wealth. They sat on fire.
Thurston now looked at the gathered council with mild expectation, like a tutor waiting for slow pupils to resume their lesson.
"My lord, thank goodness that you are finally here. We were just talking about the Queen's disappearance," Mortimer said, trying far too hard to sound composed.
"I think, Lord Mortimer," Thurston replied coolly, turning his eyes back to the man "that that is the only topic we ought to discuss at this point."
Mortimer nodded quickly, trying to mask the sting of Thurston's correction.
"So," Thurston said, settling back in his chair, "what did your king have to say?"
The sarcasm in his voice was unmistakable.
"We are still discussing damage control," Caldur bit out, jaw tight.
"Damage control?" Thurston repeated.
"Yes."
"Of course. We wouldn't need damage control if you focused your energy on finding Victoria."
"I am already doing all I can to find the Queen," Caldur said, emphasizing the title to remind Thurston, whether intentionally or not, that she was more than a woman he was familiar with—she was sovereign.
"Exactly. Something most people here have failed to see." Herald leaned forward. "Now that Thurston is here, I'll say what I have on my mind. Thurston should be in charge until the Queen returns. He is, after all, the Lord Regent."
"I can assure you I have everything under control," Caldur replied sharply.
"Looks to me like you don't, Caldur. Your sluggishness in finding the Queen makes you unfit to be in charge," Herald said bluntly.
"There's no need for all this," Norbury cut in, his voice more hesitant now. "Caldur is the husband of the Queen and should act as regent—at least until the princess is of age to take the throne."
"Princess?" Thurston repeated, his voice rising for the first time, sharp as steel. "You do remember that Victoria is still alive?"
He didn't shout, but the force of his words silenced the room. Even Norbury flinched.
"Of course, my lord," Norbury said quickly, eyes lowered. He looked shaken. Thurston was rarely emotional. Rarely anything but composed. That flicker of fury from him was enough to rattle the table.