Chapter 94
The rumor reached them before sunrise.
October had barely opened her eyes when the sound of hurried footsteps came down the hall, followed by a sharp knock. Baldwin rose from the chair by the window—he hadn’t slept—and opened the door.
Scheuer stood there, still in her night robe, her hair loose. “It’s all over the lower wards,” she said without preamble. “And it’s spreading through the court like fire. They’re saying you—” She glanced at October, then back at Baldwin. “—that you’ve abdicated.”
Baldwin’s expression didn’t change, but October felt the air shift.
“That’s impossible,” she said quickly. “It’s a lie. Who would—”
“Someone with enough reach to plant it in every corner of the city before dawn,” Baldwin cut in, his voice low and controlled. “Scheuer, who brought you this?”
Scheuer shook her head. “Not one person, but ten. Different tongues, same story: you’re stepping down, giving the North to some ‘council of stability.’” She almost spat the last words.
Baldwin dismissed her with a nod. “Wake the inner guard. No one leaves the palace without my word.”
When she left, October swung her legs off the bed. “You don’t look surprised.”
“I’m not,” Baldwin said, pulling on his coat. “This is the kind of strike you make when the sword won’t work. They can’t break me in battle, so they try to make my people believe I’ve already surrendered.”
“And your council?”
“They’ll demand answers before breakfast.”
\---
By the time they entered the council chamber, the storm had already broken.
Lord Ferrol stood at the far end, his voice rising over the murmur of the others. “You can’t expect us to hold the borders if the men believe the throne is empty!”
Lady Veyra’s jeweled hands gripped the table. “If it is true, we must know your successor now before chaos sets in—”
“It is not true.” Baldwin’s voice was quiet, but it cut through the noise like a blade.
The room stilled. Every eye turned to him.
October stood slightly behind his chair, her hands clasped, listening as the first wave of protest began.
“You say it isn’t true, but the people—”
“My nephew swears it came from your own advisors—”
“Why would half the court repeat the same lie?”
Baldwin let them speak until their words tangled in the air. Then he stepped forward, palms flat on the table.
“Because they want you afraid. They want you scrambling for your own safety instead of holding the line.” His gaze swept over them, cold and steady. “I have not abdicated. I will not abdicate. And anyone who spreads this lie will answer to me directly.”
There was silence, but not agreement. October could see it in their eyes—some relief, some doubt, some calculation.
She leaned forward slightly, speaking for the first time. “If you want to stop the rumors, you can’t do it in here. You have to show the people. Publicly.”
Lord Ferrol sneered faintly. “And how do you propose we do that, Lady October?”
She didn’t flinch. “Call an open audience. Let Baldwin speak to the merchants, the farmers, the soldiers’ families. Let them see he’s still here. It’s harder to believe a lie when the man it’s about is standing in front of you.”
Ferrol glanced at Baldwin. “You’d risk standing before a crowd when half of them might be wishing you gone?”
“I’d risk it,” Baldwin said simply.
\---
The open audience was set for that afternoon. Baldwin refused the dais and stood instead on the lower steps, the winter wind tugging at his cloak. October stayed at his side, though the weight of eyes on her was almost as sharp as the ones on him.
The square was packed—merchants in fur-trimmed coats, farmers with windburned faces, soldiers in worn armor. The tension in the air felt brittle, like ice that could crack under a single wrong step.
Baldwin’s voice carried without strain. “You’ve heard the whispers. You’ve heard I’ve walked away from the North.”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
“I have not,” he continued. “I will not. My oath to this land does not break because winter is hard, or because enemies think they smell weakness. I stand where I have always stood—between you and the ones who would take what’s yours.”
The murmurs softened.
October stepped forward then, her voice lighter but no less clear. “Rumors grow in the dark. Let’s keep our torches lit. Look around—your neighbors, your families, your children. They’re the ones who will suffer if we turn on each other instead of the ones who started this lie.”
She caught the eyes of a young soldier near the front. He looked startled, then gave a small nod.
Baldwin finished with no flourish, just steady words: “Go home knowing the crown is not for sale, not for trade, and not abandoned. I am your emperor. I am not leaving.”
The crowd began to break, slow at first, then more quickly. Not all believed—October could see that—but some did. And that was enough for now.
\---
When they returned to the council chamber, the mood was sharper. Lord Ferrol’s mouth was a thin line. “You may have calmed them for now, but the fact remains—someone inside this court fed that rumor.”
Baldwin’s tone chilled. “And I intend to find out who.”
Lady Veyra’s jeweled fingers tapped the table. “If it was meant to force your hand, the leak failed. But if it was meant to test you…” She let the thought hang.
October caught Baldwin’s eye. “It means they’ll try again. Maybe louder.”
He gave a single, grim nod. “Then we’ll be ready.”
\---
That night, Baldwin worked in silence at his desk, reviewing reports from the guard. October watched the light from the fire catch the silver in his hair.
“You’re angry,” she said finally.
“Yes,” he said without looking up.
“Because of the rumor? Or because it almost worked?”
He lifted his gaze to hers. “Because someone close enough to know my movements thinks they can use my name like a coin. And because they might be right—if I let this court think I’m distracted.”
“You’re not distracted,” she said. “You’re careful. There’s a difference.”
He leaned back, studying her. “You keep saying things like that. Do you believe it?”
“Yes,” she said simply. “Do you?”
The corner of his mouth lifted—tired, but real. “I’m starting to.”
\---
The next morning, Scheuer brought news from the outer garrison: two generals had argued openly about whether Baldwin was still fit to lead. One had slammed his fist on the table and sworn his loyalty; the other had left without a word.
Baldwin read the report, then handed it to October. “They’re not done testing us.”
October set the paper down. “Then we keep passing the tests.”