“We share a rivalry,” he repeated, as if trying the words out for the first time. “Such a way to phrase it. In what manner do you consider yourself my rival, Lord Mehkal?”
It was a fair enough question, or at least it was voiced as such. There was no venom apparent, no undertone suggesting some hidden malice. But then, this was a man schooled in these things, with lifetimes of experience in the arts of deceptions, and Frederic was not gifted with that Sight. Mikino could not hear a lie, but he could speak as many as he pleased. If he took offense, he hid that equally well, speaking matter-of-factly in turn. The words were quick, easy.
“My wings have little to do with my position in Court, I assure you. Other gifts granted me that, the one in particular of course. You may well be right. I fear we share few experiences. I will not be accompanying you on this hunt of yours. I have no interest in polo. I have never waged the sort of campaign you are known for. I would be of precious little use to one, as you say. But that particular sword, I wonder if it does not cut both ways. Of what use are you here, in my little playground? Do you truly think a soldier will make for good King? It is my game you will be playing here, whether you favor it or not.”
He did not back down, if that was what Frederic was thinking. He sensed no danger of that sort here, and Frederic would only have done him a favor by seeking to lay a hand upon him. Mikino gave him credit for being smarter than that, at least. “You speak as if you know of my loyalties, to Her Grace or anyone else. You say you care not for a man you have, before this instant, never met. It is not me you have a rivalry with, Lord Mehkal, it is the failings of your forefathers to secure for you this position you scramble for now. You demean my accomplishments in one breath as the result of feathered wings and then elevate them to a level worthy of your esteem with the next.”
The mention of threats had him tilting his head, bemused. “A word from me would have you thrown from court. Or worse. I wonder if the fruit of your actions was not incidental. Well-played, no less, but a Chaldean is a dangerous enemy to make for such a paltry offering. But I’ve spoken no such words, have I? If I wanted the throne, I would have it. That is no secret in any circle. If someday you have a daughter of your own, Lord Mehkal, if she is a Princess of the Realm, you may well understand that it is no thing to wish upon your own child. Letting rumors of discontent fester for this purpose of yours is one thing, but leaving the Chaldean in the dark, using her as a pawn in your scheming, that is a dangerous game. One even I would hesitate to play.”