The Inadequate Heir, page 21
The guard stepped back outside. “He’ll see you now, Your Highness.”
“Perfect. Would’ve been a shame to have walked up all those stairs for nothing.” The guards searched them for weapons, then Keris stepped past them and into the room, the man holding her arms shoving Zarrah after him.
The top of the tower was enclosed primarily with glass. While she was certain the view was impressive, her eyes went immediately to the man sitting behind a heavy desk, elbows resting on the arms of his chair, azure eyes twin to Keris’s. Eyes that had given her nightmares for more than a decade.
King Silas Veliant of Maridrina.
Rage, blistering hot and fierce, scorched through her, and despite her wrists being bound, it was all Zarrah could do not to lunge at him. To claw his eyes out and rip his heart from his chest. But she’d only get one chance, and she needed to make it count.
“Keris.” Silas’s voice was deep and dripped with authority. “I didn’t give you permission to leave Nerastis.” Then his gaze moved to Zarrah. “Or to bring a Valcottan into my home. Explain yourself.”
Keris shifted, rolling his shoulders, and Zarrah sensed his fear. “Apologies for the slight, Your Grace, but keeping her in Nerastis while I waited for a message to reach you, and for you to reply in kind, risked the Valcottans attacking in an effort to retrieve her.”
“One of the many reasons we don’t bother with prisoners.” The king steepled his fingers. “I believe the current practice is to dismember them and catapult the pieces back over the Anriot, though I confess it’s been some time since I visited the city.”
“Yes, well, I deemed that shortsighted.”
“Shortsighted?” The king’s eyes narrowed.
“As I believe you’ve been made aware, this is General Zarrah Anaphora. The Empress’s niece, captured on our side of the Anriot.”
“General Zarrah Anaphora.” The king laughed, as though her holding the military title was the epitome of ridiculousness. She clenched her teeth because the alternative was to bare them, and it was better that he believed her cowed. Better that he believed her a helpless woman right up to the moment she slit his throat.
Silas rose to his feet, circling the desk. Then he waved a hand at the guards who’d followed them in, dismissing them. Only when the door shut behind them did he add, “Caught by you, Keris?”
“Hardly. That would require me lowering myself to patrol, which you know I have no tolerance for. Otis caught her trying to cross back over the Anriot.”
“Makes one wonder what she was doing on our side in the first place. Do you know?”
Keris shook his head, and Zarrah couldn’t help but imagine how his father would react if he knew the truth. “She refuses to say.”
“Perhaps we might let Serin speak to her.”
It was impossible to hide the flash of fear that lanced through her, and Silas smiled. Reaching out, he caught her by the chin, lifting her face to regard her thoughtfully. Zarrah cringed from his foul breath, the feel of his touch making her nauseous. Yet it was well worth it, because he was now within reach. And if he exposed his back to her, she might get the chance to snap his neck.
“I’d rather avoid Serin’s involvement,” Keris said. “If what’s going on in the gardens is any indication, all we’d have when he was through with her is information of dubious value and another corpse to add to the décor.”
“The walls, I’m afraid, are reserved for Ithicanians and Aren’s viewing pleasure. I wouldn’t want him to think I hang just anyone up to rot in my garden.”
Keris flinched, swiftly adding, “Why not just kill him?” to cover the reaction.
The king dropped his fingers from Zarrah’s chin and shook his head. “That’s not your concern. Obviously you have a reason for bringing this girl here. Speak your mind.”
Zarrah forced herself to breathe, lest she betray her own trepidation over what Keris intended to say.
“The Valcottans have several of our people prisoner in Pyrinat. We could offer her in exchange for their release, but I propose something more … ambitious.”
Zarrah tensed, her guts in ropes.
“Oh?” The king’s brow furrowed in interest even as her stomach sank like lead at the prospect of being ransomed. At the thought of being used to extort concessions from her aunt.
The trust built when Keris had offered her the opportunity to escape wavered, replaced once again with the fear that he’d been playing her this whole time. That his agenda had always been to further himself, and she a fool to believe otherwise.
Keris’s plans don’t matter, she silently reminded herself. All that mattered was her finding a way to kill the creature standing before her.
Keris cleared his throat. “Even with Ithicana on the brink of falling—”
“It has fallen,” Silas interrupted sharply. “All that remains is to clean up the rubble.”
“Allow me to rephrase. Even with our hold on the bridge secure, it benefits us little with Valcotta stymying trade. One might argue that at this point, all it is doing is costing us.”
It was costing Valcotta, too. Dozens of merchant ships were already lost to the Tempest Seas’ violent and unpredictable weather, but her aunt had declared she’d stop trade entirely before paying Silas Veliant a copper to use the bridge.
“What I propose,” Keris continued, “is that we offer General Anaphora up in exchange for a trade agreement between Maridrina and Valcotta, which would see gold in our pockets and their heir back,” he glanced her direction, “breathing and in one piece.”
Zarrah barely heard his words, her pulse roaring as Silas started to turn, exposing his back to her. This was her chance. She’d get her bound wrists around his neck, and it would be over.
You can do this. You can end this.
Then Silas paused and met her gaze, a smile rising to his lips. He knew. Knew she wasn’t cowed, knew what she intended, and his eyes gleamed as he backed away from her, taking a seat at his desk. “Breathing and in one piece, so she can again cause us trouble.”
She wouldn’t get the jump on him. Not now, not like this. Which meant she needed to find a better opportunity, and that meant staying alive long enough to do so.
Which meant she needed to play along with Keris’s plan.
Keris slipped into the chair across from his father. “I didn’t say it was a perfect solution. But killing her would incense the Valcottans enough to move against us, which would not be ideal, given that much of our forces remain engaged with quelling the Ithicanians.”
“Why am I not surprised that you’d offer up a strategy that avoids war?”
“Not avoids war, Father. Just avoids us losing one.”
Silas was silent for a long time, wheels of thought turning in his eyes, then he lifted one shoulder. “There might be merit to this plan of yours, Keris. I’ll keep the girl here while I consider if what we might gain in exchanging her is worth more than the goodwill executing her would earn me with our people. But don’t bother unpacking your bags—I’ll forgive your decision to deliver her to Vencia, but you will return to Nerastis with all haste.”
If the order surprised him, Keris didn’t show it. “I thought you might allow me the opportunity to negotiate the agreement, Your Grace.” He hesitated. “We both know that I’ve no head for military matters, but such is not the case when it comes to economics. Allow me the opportunity to prove my worth.” His jaw flexed. “Please.”
Using the word had cost him. She could see it, and judging from the thoughtful expression on his father’s face, he’d seen it, too.
“This is unlike you, Keris,” the king said after a long moment. “And that makes me mistrustful of your intentions, which are nearly always contrary to my own.”
Keris exhaled a soft breath, then nodded. “In that, this is no different. I wish to live, and to achieve that end, I must earn your favor in whatever way I can.”
The silence stretched, Zarrah’s heart racing as she watched the king consider Keris’s request. If he sent his son away, Zarrah knew she was a dead woman. Without Keris to argue otherwise, Silas would choose the path that protected his pride, and she’d likely never get the opportunity to try to kill him. But if Keris bought her time …
“You may remain for as long as I perceive your efforts yield some worth,” Silas finally answered. “But fail in this …”
“I won’t fail you, Father.”
Instead of answering, the king turned on Zarrah, running his tongue over his bottom lip. “And you, General. I will grant you my hospitality for now, but if you make any effort to escape, rest assured that I won’t hesitate to remove your head.” He smiled. “Much like I did your mother’s.”
Logic burned away, reason turning to ash. The world around Zarrah turned bright, blood roaring in her ears as a scream rose in her chest. As her hands balled into fists, every inch of her wanting to attack. Wanting to rip out his eyes and his tongue and then carve him apart piece by piece. But she was bound wrist and ankle, the guards outside only a dozen paces away.
You will only get one chance.
So she took a deep breath, digging for calm as Silas laughed at her. The same laugh that filled her nightmares.
The laugh that had brought her here.
He rose to his feet. “I cherish that particular kill. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have another prisoner requiring my attention.”
I CHERISH THAT particular kill.
Anger simmered in Keris’s guts as he pulled Valcotta from the room, knowing that if she were subjected to any more of his father’s barbs, she’d try to kill him, consequences be damned.
Either that, or Keris would try to kill the sadistic prick himself.
Avoiding Valcotta’s gaze, he growled at the guards waiting outside the door, “Bring her,” then started down the stairs, exiting on the second level in order to take one of the enclosed walkways that connected the tower to the other buildings of the inner sanctum. As he crossed, his eyes flicked to the three corpses now hanging from the wall, crows already circling above.
Aren Kertell remained chained to a bench, his face blank and unreadable as he stared at the corpses, Serin nowhere in sight. Which meant the Magpie was probably on his way to meet with Keris’s father to discuss whatever he’d learned from the prisoner king. It wouldn’t be long until the bodies started to stink, until the flies began to swarm and the birds to pick at their flesh, and dizziness swept over him as memory juxtaposed itself over reality.
Shaking his head to clear it, Keris stepped into the harem’s quarters, which, despite the hallway being empty, were loud with female chatter, shouting children, and a few crying babies. “Go back to the main palace,” he said to the soldiers, taking Valcotta’s arm himself. “This place is not for your eyes.”
And not waiting to see if they complied, he pulled Valcotta along with him, allowing the door to slam shut.
She looked at the closed doors lining the curved hallway with curiosity, tone cool as she asked, “What is this place?”
“The harem.” His voice was sharper than he intended, his apprehension over the conversation he was about to have with his aunt nearly as bad as he’d felt over the one with his father. “Men aren’t allowed in here.”
She arched one eyebrow at him and Keris sighed. “Obviously I’m exempt. I meant no men who are not of my family.”
Her eyes brightened. “So there are no guards?”
Giving her a long look of warning, he said, “There are,” the verity of the statement revealed as they reached the apex of the curved hallway, where two such guards stood outside a closed door. “But they’ve had certain parts removed, if you get my meaning.”
Zarrah huffed out a shocked breath, but she said nothing as he gave a firm knock on the heavy wood. After a moment, it swung open, revealing an exceptionally beautiful woman with ivory skin and hair so blond it was nearly white.
Lestara was the daughter of a king of one of the smaller nations north of Harendell, having been offered as a bride in exchange for one of Keris’s half sisters. She was several years younger than Keris was himself, but because she had the habit of looking at him like he was something she might one day consume, he said, “Good morning, Auntie.”
Lestara’s eyes widened at the sight of him, and she dropped into a low curtsey. “Your Highness! We hadn’t been made aware you were in Vencia.” Then she caught sight of Zarrah, and the pleasure on her face was eaten away by anger. Despite having lived in Maridrina less than a year, the harem’s prejudices had already worn off on her. “Why is there a Valcottan in our house?”
She said Valcottan like Keris might say worm, and for no reason other than to goad her, he said, “I finally decided to get married.”
Lestara’s amber eyes bulged, but the joke was ruined as a voice belonging to an older woman said, “He’s teasing you, girl. Not even Keris has the balls to marry a Valcottan. Mostly because he knows I’d chop them off myself if he ever did so.”
“What an awful thing to say, Auntie Coralyn.” He tugged Valcotta into the room. “You know how attached I am to them.”
The matriarch of the royal harem snorted and took a long sip of steaming tea, eyeing him up and down. After his own mother was murdered, Coralyn had personally seen to Keris’s upbringing, and even after he’d grown too old to live within these walls—his father uninterested in competition, least of all from his sons—he’d remained close with her by letter and frequent visits. She’d intervened often between him and his father in his youth, and though it had not come to pass, had fought tirelessly on his behalf for him to attend university in Harendell. Not because she had any time for philosophy, but because she’d recognized that remaining in Maridrina would be the death of him.
“You’d better have a good explanation for this, boy. And it better not have anything to do with her pretty face.”
“Otis captured her, not me, so if you’re going to cast stones, direct them at him. I merely recognized her worth and decided to capitalize upon it.”
“Oh?” Coralyn crossed her arms. “Care to elaborate, or are you more interested in standing there looking smug?”
“This is Zarrah Anaphora. She’s …” Keris trailed off as every woman in the room rose, their faces darkening. On the surface, the harem seemed soft and civilized, but he knew better. Knew what they were capable of, if pressed.
“You can’t kill her.” He stepped between Zarrah and the other women. “I’m going to ransom her back to the Empress in exchange for a trade deal with Valcotta. I’m afraid that requires her alive, so control yourselves.”
One of Coralyn’s eyebrows rose. “Sometimes you are too busy being clever to think about whether what you’re doing is smart, boy. Do you have any notion how many of the harem’s sons have been lost to the Valcottans? This woman personally murdered your brother.”
Keris made a face. “You yourself said Rask was an idiot and a sadist, Auntie. Don’t go pretending to be morose over his loss.”
Coralyn opened her mouth, but the retort in her eyes never reached her lips as Zarrah said, “I didn’t murder him. I met him blade to blade on the field of battle, and while fate favored my life over his, he died with his weapon in his hand, cursing my name.”
Silence fell over the room, and Keris clenched his teeth as he waited for wrath to fall upon her. And him.
But Coralyn only lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Better a weapon than his manhood, I suppose. We’ve had a few lost in the brothels over the years, and it’s truly embarrassing for all involved.”
Zarrah laughed softly, and the tone of it made Keris’s skin prickle with memory. The last time he’d heard her laugh was when she’d been naked in his arms. Was before she knew his name. He shoved aside the sensation. “Rask notwithstanding, I’m well aware of the enmity between her family and ours. But our coffers grow thin, and if you wish to remain in the style to which you’re accustomed, we need Valcottan revenue from the bridge.”
“I dislike this, Keris. You’ve brought a fox into the henhouse.”
“You don’t need to like it. You need only find her a room and ensure she is kept in comfort fitting her title. And while she might be a fox, don’t pretend you and yours are helpless hens, because I know better.”
His aunt made a noncommittal noise, then took a mouthful of tea. “Fine. But this will be on my terms, Keris. My rules. Is that understood?”
“I wouldn’t dare presume otherwise.”
The look she gave him said that she didn’t believe that for a heartbeat. Taking hold of Zarrah’s arm, he inclined his head to the women and started toward the door. “Which room do you want me to put her in?”
“The one at the end of the hall has bars on the window. And a secure door. It will do.” Then Coralyn eyed Zarrah. “I’ll arrange for more appropriate attire.”
“Excellent.” He edged toward the door, but Coralyn’s hand latched onto his arm with surprising strength.
“You aren’t going anywhere until we discuss the matter of compensation, Keris.” Gesturing to a servant, she rattled off instructions as pertained to Zarrah’s attire, then opened the door and barked at the two guards outside, “Take the prisoner to the room at the end and stay with her until I arrive to inspect the security.”
Neither guard argued—they knew better than to cross Coralyn—one taking Zarrah’s arm and leading her out, the servant trailing after them.
“Sit,” Coralyn said. “Have tea with us.”
Equal parts annoyed and curious about what the harem wanted from him, Keris obliged, sipping from the steaming cup that Lestara handed to him and waiting while the women settled themselves. His father had somewhere around fifty wives, but only twelve were currently present, playing court to their unofficial queen. Never mind that of all his wives, Keris’s father despised Coralyn the most. Meddlesome, sour-tongued old hag, he always called her, but not even Silas Veliant was stupid enough to attempt undermining the harem’s order.
