The Inadequate Heir, page 28
“Ithicana was no choice!” He twisted, sending them both rolling into a stack of books. “And neither was Yrina!”
“You’re a liar! You did it to impress your father! You did it because you want to be king!” She got behind him, arm around his throat. “And I’m going to kill you for it. Then your father. And then the rest of your twisted family.”
And she squeezed.
Keris clawed at her arms, trying to pull them loose, but Zarrah gritted her teeth and held on, her skill against his strength.
Tears rolled down her cheeks because she’d been so certain he was different. So certain that he truly wanted peace.
So certain that she could trust him.
But it had all been lies.
Fury gave her strength, and Zarrah pulled tighter as his fingers dug into her skin. There was no explanation. There was nothing he could say that would make this right.
Then he went limp. Not dead yet, but if she held on a few moments longer …
If you kill him, you’ll never know the truth of what happened to Yrina. The thought sent a rush of panic through her, and Zarrah let go of Keris’s throat, rolling him off her. For a heartbeat, she stared at him, certain that she’d gone too far, but then he sucked in a ragged gasp of breath, eyes fluttering open, his gaze unfocused. He started to sit, but she straddled him, pinning his wrists to the thick carpet beneath him.
“Tell me what happened. All of it,” she said. “Leave nothing out.”
Keris sucked in breath after breath, but then he met her gaze. “I didn’t know they’d captured Yrina until my father brought me down to her cell,” he said. “There was no way to get her out; there were too many guards. And even if it had been possible, Serin had … hurt her in ways that weren’t survivable.”
Tortured her. Zarrah’s chest constricted, her mind supplying endless visions of what Yrina must have endured.
“My father gave me the choice: to kill her or to allow her to die a slow, painful death. I … Mercy was the only thing I could give.”
Mercy. Her tongue felt thick, her throat tight. “Serin said you did it to earn your father’s favor.”
Keris gave her a sideways glance. “You believed him?” He gave a sharp shake of his head. “Serin used Yrina’s death to manipulate your emotions. To drive you toward a purpose. To …”
“Kill you.” Zarrah bit the insides of her cheeks, realizing now that the guards abandoning their station had been no misstep. The Magpie had known exactly where she’d go. Which meant he knew she was in here, and now she’d have to face either the consequences of having attacked Keris or questions she couldn’t answer for why she hadn’t killed him when given the chance. “I allowed grief to blind me, and I believed the worst.”
“Sometimes the worst is true.”
Silence stretched between them, then he said, “I should’ve told you about Yrina, but I didn’t want to hurt you. Didn’t want you to hate me.” He sucked in a ragged breath. “It was the act of a coward.”
How would she have reacted if he’d told her? Would she have been reasonable? Would she have listened to his explanation? Or would she have lashed out in grief? Zarrah wasn’t certain, but she did know that she’d rather have heard of Yrina’s death from Keris than from Serin. “You should have told me.” She swallowed hard. “Please don’t keep things from me. Even if they hurt, I need to know.” She looked down at him, meeting his gaze. “I can’t trust someone who deceives me, no matter the motivations. Yrina’s death was not your decision, but you chose to keep it from me. Chose to avoid me rather than to face the consequences of the truth.”
Keris exhaled a long breath. “I’m sorry. For deceiving you, but also for my part in her death.”
“You offered her mercy.” And she knew better than most that to be merciful often necessitated bravery, but God help her, this hurt. It was her decisions that had brought Yrina here, which made her more the cause of her friend’s death than anyone.
“I told her the truth. About you and me.”
A flicker of panic bit at her guts, fear that in learning the truth, Yrina had spent her last moments feeling betrayed. That she’d died believing Zarrah was a traitor. “Why?”
“So she’d know you weren’t alone. So she’d have the peace of knowing that someone was trying to get you free.”
“Then you should have told her you were negotiating with the Empress. She knows my aunt would never abandon me to die.”
His jaw tightened. “The Empress personally gave the order that no one was to go after you. Yrina defied the order.”
A jolt ran through Zarrah, her breaths coming quickly yet not seeming to deliver air. “So she died a traitor to the crown and knowing that I lied to her.”
Silence.
“She didn’t care about any of that, Valcotta. She willingly chose death to protect you, and her last words were to request I tell you that she loves you.”
A knife to the heart would have hurt less, and Zarrah doubled over, forehead pressed against his chest as she fought to breathe. “Was it quick? Please tell me you made it quick.”
“It was quick.”
There was something about his tone that told her what his words did not. “She did it herself, didn’t she? You weren’t the one who killed her.”
He didn’t answer, and she looked up to see that his eyes were closed, fingers pressed to his temples and face pale. “Keris?”
“I hesitated.” The words caught as he added, “I wanted a chance to think of a solution, a way out, but …”
Of course he had. Of course he’d refuse to concede to death being the solution. “Sometimes, there is no way out.”
His eyes snapped open. “I will get you out, Valcotta. One way or another.”
Except she hadn’t come to this place to escape. She’d come for blood and vengeance. But for all her admonitions about honesty and trust, she couldn’t tell him that. So Zarrah only gave him a tight nod, easing her grip on his wrists.
But she didn’t climb off him, remaining where she was, straddling his hips. Rising meant leaving, and she didn’t want to be alone in her grief. In her guilt.
Keris shifted beneath her, fingers interlocking with hers, and the tenuous control she had over her emotions shivered. Her chest was so tight, and she feared if she opened her clenched jaw, a sob would tear loose. Yet she managed to say, “I should go. I need to go. Serin knows I’m here.”
Instead of answering, Keris sat upright, and Zarrah instinctively shifted her weight so that her legs were wrapped around him, resting her forehead on his shoulder. She exhaled, shuddering, and tears forced themselves free. Don’t cry, she told herself. You’re strong.
Not strong enough.
A sob ripped from her lips with such ferocity she thought it would tear her apart. Might have torn her apart, except Keris wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. Holding her together as sob after painful sob clawed its way out of her body. Only when they eased did he loosen his grip, one hand moving up and down her naked back.
The sensation sent a stab of heat into her core, igniting a throb between her legs, and she clung to the sensation rather than attempting to vanquish it. Focused on how the silk skirt of her dress was pushed up to her waist and that she wore nothing beneath, her naked sex pressed against him. On how the lowcut neckline had pulled sideways to expose one of her breasts. On how the growing hardness beneath her betrayed that he’d noticed these things as well.
She ground her hips against him, her desire ratcheting higher as he groaned softly, his fingers trailing over her naked thighs. Then he said, “You need to get out of the tower before Serin comes looking. He can’t catch us like this.”
Because it would be the death of both of them. Yet such logic meant little when she wanted to drown her grief in his touch. Wanted to drive away the pain in her heart with lust. Wanted to fall asleep wrapped in his arms so that he might ward away the nightmares that were sure to come.
Except she wasn’t selfish enough to disrespect Yrina’s sacrifice by getting herself killed before accomplishing what she’d come to Vencia to do, so Zarrah rose and straightened her dress. “Serin believes I came in here to kill you. We need a reason why I didn’t. An excuse for me being here.”
“Think of one on the way down.” Keris caught her hand, leading her to the door and hauling it open. “We can’t linger.”
The sound of footfalls echoed in the stairwell.
“Shit!” Panic filled Keris’s gaze.
An idea struck her.
She hauled Keris up the stairs, whispering as they climbed. “Tell the guards upstairs that I have information for the king and I wish to negotiate. Then follow my lead.”
“What information?”
“Trust me.”
Keris gave a tight nod, then caught hold of her elbow, leading her up. They reached the first pair of bodyguards, one of them saying, “You aren’t supposed to be alone with her, Highness.”
“I’m not.” Keris looked over his shoulder, then frowned as though surprised to see Zarrah’s escort missing before shrugging. “I’m sure they’ll be along shortly. This can’t wait.”
“Highness …”
Keris ignored the man, pulling Zarrah up the stairs to the top level, where yet another set of guards waited. “She wishes to negotiate with His Grace. Says she has information he’ll consider valuable.”
The guard knocked, then stepped inside, reappearing a moment later to nod at Keris. “He’ll see her.”
The guards fastened her wrists with manacles, and taking a breath to steel herself, Zarrah went inside, the chains jingling with each step.
Silas sat with his boots up on his desk, arms folded behind his back and a glass of amber liquid sitting in front of him. “You’ve been busy, Keris. It’s been less than an hour since you left my presence, and already you’ve managed to have an unsanctioned conversation with Aren Kertell, as well as found the time to facilitate a confession of some sort from Lady Zarrah here.”
“Serin’s tactics have broken the man’s will, and he’s on the cusp of taking his own life, which will cause us significant consternation,” Keris answered. “The Magpie allows his passions for torture to take precedence over your goals, Your Grace. You might remind him who rules, because I believe he may have forgotten.”
Something flickered in Silas’s eyes … annoyance? Or something more? “You may have a point. Now what is it that Lady Zarrah wishes to discuss?”
Lifting her chin, Zarrah allowed her grief to swell, the prick of tears in her eyes unfeigned as she said, “Your spymaster informed me that an individual of some importance to me was apprehended and killed.” She shot a look of venom at Keris, who shifted uneasily. “Killed by his blade.”
Silas’s jaw tightened. “What of it? The woman murdered four of my soldiers. If you are seeking an apology, you are wasting your breath.”
“That’s not what I want.” A tear spilled down her cheek. “Yrina was my bodyguard. And friend. I’d see her remains treated with respect and returned to the Red Desert. And in exchange, I’ll offer you information about your daughter.”
“Which one?”
“Lara.” It was old information. Probably useless as far as locating the traitor queen. But from the way Silas slid his boots from his desk and straightened in his chair, Zarrah knew she’d chosen well.
“I’ve no notion of what Serin did with the remains, but if such a thing is possible, I will see it done,” he said. “That is, assuming your information is good.”
“Our spies told us that she was seen in several coastal villages in Harendell,” she said. “In taverns every night.”
Silas grimaced. “Yes, yes. We received the same information. It is of no worth, as she disappeared before assassins could track her down.”
“Did your spies also inform you that she was drinking to excess every night?”
“I fail to see how tales of her celebrations are of any worth.”
Probably because he was a man. And his spies were men. Whereas the Valcottan who’d reported this information had been very much a woman. “Not celebrating, Your Grace. She drank alone, refusing to have anything to do with other patrons, drinking to such excess that she was often sick in the gutter, at which point she’d drag herself back to a boarding house, always alone.” An easy mark, which the traitor queen of Ithicana had to have known. “She favored harbor taverns, particularly those with active trade between Harendell and Southwatch market.”
Silas stared at her, still not comprehending.
“She behaved like a woman with deep regrets. A woman with nothing left to lose. A woman desperate for information about those she left behind. And if, as you say, she’s now gone from those taverns, it is because she learned the news of her husband’s capture.”
“She’s coming for him,” Keris said softly, a hint of disbelief in his voice, and Zarrah gave a slight nod. “A spy’s worth is not always in what they see and hear, but in how they interpret it.”
A smile of delight rose to Silas’s face. “Indeed. And it is news well received. I shall discover the fate of the remains of your countrywoman.”
“Thank you.” The words stuck in her throat, but Zarrah forced them out. She’d take them back when she took his life.
A knock sounded at the door, the guard stepping inside. “Serin is here, Your Grace.”
The spymaster entered. Though he must have been surprised to see her standing there with Keris, still very much alive, none of it registered on his face. “Aren has agreed to attend a dinner with the ambassadors tonight.”
“Excellent.” Silas sipped at his drink. “I’m going to need you to dig up the corpse of that Valcottan woman. Pay a merchant to dump the body in the Red Desert.”
“Why would we do such a thing?”
“As payment for information the Valcottans had about Lara that you didn’t.”
There was a threat in Silas’s tone, but instead of blanching, Serin’s gaze darkened with anger. “What information would that be?”
“Information on Lara’s behavior and state of mind,” Silas answered, then repeated what Zarrah had told him.
“It would be good information if not for the fact it presumably predates Lady Zarrah’s capture in Nerastis, suggesting that it is old information and likely of little use.”
She couldn’t help but tense, because if Silas agreed, he might deny Yrina dignity in death.
“You’re an idiot if that’s what you think,” Keris said. “And even if it proves useless, the fact remains that it is information your spies failed to accurately report, Serin. You must be losing your touch.”
“My son makes a valid point.”
Zarrah didn’t so much as blink, but watching the spymaster squirm, knowing full well that his scheming had been turned back on him, sent a rush of vicious pleasure through her.
“I will endeavor to tighten my web,” Serin finally said. “But as for the matter of the body, I’m afraid that will be impossible.”
Zarrah felt her stomach drop and her hands turn to ice even as Silas demanded, “Why not?”
“Because it was burned,” Serin answered. “And the ashes were tossed in the sewers with the rest of the shit.”
The world spun in and out of focus. In the sewers …
“My regrets, Lady Zarrah,” Silas said. “I’ll be sure to make the proper arrangements if any more of your people attempt rescue, although I’d not hold my breath.”
She couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. “You monster!” She flung herself at Serin. “I’m going to rip out your goddamned heart.”
Then she was flying backward, her shoulders aching from the force the guard had used to jerk her chains. She ignored the pain and lunged again, but the guard was strong. He kicked her in the back of the legs, knocking her to the ground, his boot between her shoulder blades.
Zarrah felt hot breath against her cheek, and she twisted her head to see Silas bent close. “You are expected at dinner with the ambassadors tonight. Be on your best behavior.” Then he rose. “Lock her in her room.”
The guards dragged her backward, kicking and screaming, but as the door slammed shut between them, she met the King of Maridrina’s gaze and made a silent vow.
Tonight, Silas Veliant would breathe his last.
SERIN WAS TRYING to kill him.
Which meant his father was losing patience with Keris’s ploys, and that meant time was running out. Though whether that would see his father dead or Valcotta dead, he wasn’t sure.
There had been no missing the promise of murder in her eyes—a fate his father had earned, but if she managed to follow through, the consequences would be catastrophic. If his father’s guards didn’t slaughter her, which was unlikely, her life would still be forfeit. The people would demand her death, and even with the crown on his head, he’d be in no position to deny them. It would necessitate him trying to escape with her, which would border on an impossible task.
Not that he wouldn’t try.
And the Endless War would be catapulted into a fevered pitch, his father a martyr fueling Maridrina’s wrath and the Empress, from what he was learning, more than happy to return in kind. Especially if Valcotta ended up on the executioner’s block.
His mind spiraled down and down, imagining worse and worse scenarios, until he felt sick with anxiety. He needed to talk to Valcotta, needed to explain to her that Aren might be the key to her escape, but getting her alone was nearly impossible. A few more hours was all he needed, for the harem had a plan to allow Coralyn a moment to speak to Aren over dinner and gain the man’s support.
Which had to work.
Keris pressed his fingertips to his temples, his head aching and every muscle in his body tense, hating that he was dependent on the Ithicanian king. On that man whose error in falling for Lara’s duplicity was the cause of all of this. “He’s desperate,” he told himself, stomping down on the guilt that rose in his chest. “You’ve seen the proof of that.” Desperate enough to take his own life to keep any more of his people from dying trying to rescue him, but the desire to live was still there, else he wouldn’t have taken the bait Keris had left him with that book. Aren was looking for options, and if the harem could connect him to his people, options he would have.
