The Inadequate Heir, page 35
“There’s always someone listening in Vencia.” She sat next to him, frowning as the wind tugged a lock of her hair loose from its coif. “And we both know Serin takes a particular interest in you, Keris. You are not the sort of man he wishes to serve, and he aims to see you removed from succession. We’ve already seen the proof of that.”
He stiffened, and she gave him a sideways glance. “We both know it was Serin who drove Otis to attack you. His plot failed, but that only means he’ll try again and again until he succeeds. We need him dead, but your father relies too much upon him to give him up. Which means for you to survive, we need your father dead or removed from power. I imagine you’ve come to the same conclusion, and it is your efforts to achieve his removal that have been occupying your midnight hours, not whoremongering.”
Keris crossed his arms, unwilling to reveal anything, given that his last alliance with his aunt had netted him nothing.
“I know it’s you riling the masses against your father, boy. You’re pushing them to overthrow him, possibly to even kill him, but what is less clear is why you believe they’ll put you, another Veliant, on the throne in his place. What’s more likely to occur is that they’ll slaughter this entire family, and Maridrina will descend into anarchy. You’re wielding a cudgel when what you need is a knife.”
There was far more finesse to his plans than that, but Keris only said, “What do you propose?”
“That you use your sister as your knife. An option made much more feasible given that Lara is in Vencia. And she isn’t alone.”
Shock rippled through him with enough force that his jaw dropped. “Lara? How—”
“Aren gave me a contact in the city, his hope that I’d give the individual a message to desist in their attempts to rescue him. I went to meet this contact but found more than Ithicanians. Lara is with them, as are your missing half sisters, warriors, all.”
Keris abruptly found himself pacing, though he had no recollection of rising, a mix of emotions churning in his gut, the foremost of which was anger. Lara was a liar and a traitor and a killer. She’d started a goddamned war. Was responsible for the deaths of thousands of people. If not for her … “Why is she here?”
“Because of Aren. She and his people are united in the desire to see Ithicana’s king freed.”
How Lara had gotten the Ithicanians to stomach her presence, Keris couldn’t begin to imagine. “She’s a creature of Serin’s making, and we can’t trust her.”
“He left his mark on her, to be sure, but she’s not his creature. And certainly not your father’s.”
“I’ll have nothing to do with her,” Keris snarled. “What she deserves is a knife in the heart, and while the Ithicanians might not have the balls to do it, don’t think I’ll show any such hesitation if she crosses my path.”
Though he refused to look at her, Keris could sense his aunt’s scrutiny as she asked, “What happened to you that night in the bridge?”
Turning his back on her, he closed his eyes, the vision of Raina gasping for breath, blood bubbling from her chest, filling his mind. “I told you. They trussed me up like a pig when I protested their actions and I was left in a cart until the battle was finished.”
“Yes, I recall your bitter complaints.” She hesitated. “But knowing you as I do, it wasn’t what was done to you that you blame your sister for, but what was done to someone else.”
“They murdered my escort. They were good people.”
“That was your father’s doing, not Lara’s.”
“Bullshit!” He rounded on her. “She enabled him by being his tool.”
“You think she had a choice?”
He stared his aunt down. “Yes. The same one I had. The same one I still have.”
Neither of them spoke, the only sound the rain pattering against the roof of the gazebo and the wind racing across the land, the echoes of the typhoon over Ithicana.
“You two could be twins, you are so alike in face,” Coralyn finally said. “And both equally unforgiving, though your sister is significantly less self-righteous about it. She erred, Keris. She knows it and is trying to right wrongs. In that, I say she is your better, for while you have not erred, you do nothing but point fingers at the wrongs around you.”
“I’ll hear no more of this.” Turning on his heel, Keris made for the entrance to the gazebo, but his aunt’s voice stopped him in his tracks.
“For the sake of your mother, you will sit. And you will listen.”
Grinding his teeth, he turned.
“Lara intends to free her husband, and the harem has decided to assist her and the Ithicanians in this venture.”
Less Lara’s involvement, this was exactly the alliance he’d hoped for, but now he found himself not wanting any part of it. “Why? And why, for that matter, did you go to see Aren’s contact? You indicated to me that by winning my father’s promise to leave my sisters alone, you were content. What changed?”
She was quiet, eyes searching his for a long moment before she said, “The circumstances surrounding Otis’s death caused me to reconsider. When I learned Lara was with them, I realized she could be of use to us. If we give her the opportunity, she’s more than capable of killing your father. And more than willing.”
“You’re suggesting we use Lara to assassinate my father?” He frowned, pushing aside his anger in an effort to think clearly. “That’s why you are agreeing to work with them? Not to rescue Aren Kertell but because you believe she will use the opportunity to take revenge? And then … and then the expectation is that I’d use my newly gained crown to free him if he’s not escaped already?”
“Correct.” Coralyn stopped in front of him, her perfume thick in his nose. “Aren is a good man, and I believe the world will be better for his freedom. But I’ll sacrifice his life in a heartbeat if it sees Silas dead, Serin along with him, and you on the throne.”
Ignoring the last part of her statement, he said, “There has to be an easier way to murder him. One that holds less risk for the harem.” And one that didn’t involve his sister.
“You think I haven’t tried? For years, I’ve been trying to sneak poisons into the inner sanctum. Only twice have I succeeded, and both times, your father’s poison testers fell while he lived. I can’t even get a weapon larger than a butter knife through those gates.”
“But you think you can get Lara and her companions in?”
Coralyn nodded. “I’ll take a select group of the wives shopping. But it will be Lara and her sisters who return with me. I’ll choose women who look alike, and the younger women always keep their faces concealed outside the palace. Then I’ll hide them in the harem until it’s time.”
“That’s a piece-of-shit plan, Coralyn. What if the guards checking them for weapons notice they aren’t the same women?”
She glared at him. “For someone with an enormous vocabulary, you do tend to dig from the bottom of the barrel. But as to your question, you’ll just have to trust that I know what I’m doing.”
It occurred to him that if Coralyn had desired Valcotta free, she probably could have arranged it. But the harem’s hatred for the enemy nation ran too deep for that to ever be a possibility. Keris bit at his thumb, slowly warming to the plan, which did show much more artistry than his intended coup. “You’re certain Lara will kill him? Because if she just takes Aren and runs, it will be you and the rest of the harem who pay the price. My father might be an idiot, but Serin isn’t. He’ll know you arranged it.”
“Lara gave her word. She hates your father every bit as much as you do—I believe she’ll die before leaving with your father still alive.”
And Lara was a trained assassin. “You have a plan for getting her in. But what about out? It isn’t as though I’ll have instantaneous control, which means my father’s soldiers will kill her, Aren, and whoever is with them. As it is, I’ll look culpable if I just allow Lara to walk away. And she’s not going to agree to any of this without an escape route.”
“Lara believes Aren will have insight once presented with expanded resources.”
Keris shook his head, seeing the flaw in the plan. “Aren will never agree to this. One, Lara is involved. Two, it puts his people at risk, which is something he’s desperate to avoid.”
“Think of a way to convince him.”
The only way to convince Aren would be to make the reward worth the risk, which meant the reward had to be greater than his own freedom. “What if I promise I’ll withdraw our army from Ithicana if he and his people manage the assassination during the escape?”
“Do you believe he’d trust you?” Coralyn asked. “Easy enough for you to deny making any such promise when you take the crown, leaving him with only with his freedom for his efforts, which you’ve suggested isn’t enough incentive.”
“True.” Keris bit at his thumbnail again, barely feeling the pain or tasting the blood as he considered the problem. Not only did he need a worthwhile incentive, but he also needed to give Aren a reason to trust that the promise would be delivered upon.
Which meant the incentive needed to come from someone whose word was gold.
And Keris knew just the woman.
Catching his aunt by the elbow, he flipped the shade over her head to block the rain and then tugged her out of the gazebo. “I think it’s time I had another conversation with Aren Kertell.”
CORALYN WAS NOT one for idle threats.
True to her word, the woman had kept Zarrah locked in her room since the night of her failed assassination attempt, the only people she saw being the servants who brought her food and bathwater. The stone block had been mortared back into place in the wall, though how the harem had managed it without being seen, Zarrah didn’t know.
It was maddening, being imprisoned this way.
With nothing to read and nothing to do, Zarrah spent hours exercising, pushing her body to the limit, with Yrina’s imagined voice driving her on until she collapsed into bed at night, exhausted. But that was better than the waiting.
Waiting for Keris to come to an agreement with her aunt.
Waiting for Serin to try to kill her again.
Waiting for Coralyn to present another opportunity to rid the harem of Silas.
She wanted to scream. Wanted to fight her way out. Wanted to be able to rely on her strengths instead of being forced to face her weaknesses, of which patience was her worst. Where she dominated was the battlefield, with soldiers and weapons and strategies, not in political machinations.
You played your hand, Yrina’s voice whispered in her ear. Now you must see how the other players respond.
“I can’t wait any longer,” she answered, knowing that she spoke to a ghost. That she spoke to herself. “I need out of this room. Need to fight.”
Then you’re going to lose.
A knock sounded on the door.
Zarrah twitched, rising shakily to her feet as one of the guards stepped inside. He looked her over, his mouth curling in disgust. “Make yourself presentable. The king orders you to attend him.”
“I’m a prisoner, not one of his wives,” she answered, ignoring the flutter of nerves in her chest. “How I look matters little. Take me to him now.”
The man opened his mouth to argue, then huffed out a breath and gestured for her to exit the room.
Ignoring how her trousers and blouse clung to her sweaty body, Zarrah moved into the corridor, her bare feet making no sound as she was led to the doors to the covered walkway, where two of the king’s bodyguards waited.
As did an unexpected noise.
Glancing to the walls, Zarrah frowned at the roar emanating from beyond them. It sounded to her like an angry mob. And not one that numbered in the dozens, but rather one that numbered in the hundreds. Possibly thousands. “What’s going on?”
“Not your concern,” the guard snapped. “Hands behind you.”
Zarrah allowed him to fasten manacles to her wrists, then a set to her ankles. Normally they didn’t bother restraining her until she was about to step into Silas’s chambers, and she wondered if the mob was what had provoked the extra caution. What were the people so angry about?
Chains clinking, she walked across the walkway to the tower, her eyes drifting over the gardens below, immediately fixing on Keris.
Her heart skipped, for it had been days since she’d seen his face. Days since she’d heard his voice, and she willed him to look up, needing that connection, but he was deep in conversation with Lestara, several of his younger sisters skipping around them.
“Spends so much time with women he practically is one,” the bodyguard holding her wrists said to his fellow. “Useless weakling. I can’t believe he’s lasted this long.”
It amazed her that these men, trained soldiers, didn’t see the truth. When she watched Keris move, she immediately saw the raw strength in the press of muscle against his embroidered coat. The balance and grace in every step that came from a lifetime on rooftops. The swift instincts of one who might choose not to fight but was more than capable of doing so. But it was his intelligence that made him a force to be reckoned with.
And she expected the day these men realized the danger that walked among them, it would be too late.
The guard opened the door to the tower, cool air washing over Zarrah as she started up the endless stairs. They reached the top, and the guards outside the doors to Silas’s offices searched her for weapons before allowing her inside.
“Good morning, Zarrah.” Silas sat with his boots up on the desk, a glass filled with amber liquid balanced on one knee. Serin stood next to the window behind him, face unreadable. “I have news.”
Her heart skipped, then raced.
“The Harendellians sailed into port this morning,” he said. “With your aunt’s response to my son’s proposal.”
Sweat broke out on her already-clammy palms. Her aunt hadn’t abandoned her. “Oh?”
“I’ll allow you to read it yourself.” He tossed a folded piece of familiar stationery to her side of his desk, the purple wax of the Empress’s royal seal snapped in half.
The chains on her wrists rattling, she picked it up and unfolded it, her eyes skimming over the two sentences of text. The familiar signature.
I’ll allow my niece to die a thousand deaths before negotiating with a Veliant. Do with her what you will, but be prepared for the consequences.
Petra
Zarrah’s stomach hollowed even as a shaking breath exited her lips. She’d known her aunt wouldn’t concede to Keris’s terms, but she’d thought the Empress would draw out the negotiation. Would look for another way to secure Zarrah’s freedom. Would buy time for Zarrah to free herself. Not … not this.
She read the lines a second time. And a third. Searching for something, anything, that indicated the Empress hadn’t abandoned her. That she’d fight for her. That she still loved her.
But there was nothing.
Her aunt would allow Silas to kill her before conceding an inch. Would allow him to murder her because her death would put fuel to the fire of the Endless War. As her aunt had used her as a tool in life, she’d now use her as a tool in death.
Zarrah couldn’t help but wonder if that meant her aunt had never cared about her at all.
SINCE THERE WAS no way to arrange for a private conversation with Aren, circumstances necessitated doing it in full view of Serin, his father, and all the many watching eyes within the inner sanctum.
Fortunately, Keris was no longer working alone.
“Loud enough that no one can overhear,” he murmured to Lestara. “And have the girls block the view of us so that reading lips will be a challenge.”
“How do you know he’ll come?” she asked.
“Because for one, he’s waiting for news that Coralyn met with his people. Two, he’s watching us from his window.” Leaving her to organize his little sisters, who were all dressed in a rainbow of dazzling silks, Keris stared at the book in front of him, none of the words sinking in.
Be patient, he told himself. Aren believes he needs you more than you need him.
If only that were the case.
Long minutes passed, then the sound of footsteps filled his ears, chains clinking as Aren settled onto the bench across from him. Not wishing to appear eager, Keris refrained from looking up from his book until Aren’s guards stepped back. “Good morning, Your Grace. Come to enjoy the brief respite from the storm?”
“Rain doesn’t bother me.”
“No, I suppose it wouldn’t.” Keris set his book on a spot on the table that had dried in the sun, then fixed his gaze on the lingering guards. “Is there something you need?”
Both men shifted uncomfortably, probably wondering if they’d be rewarded for allowing Keris to get himself killed. “He’s dangerous, Your Highness,” one said. “It’s best we remain close in case he needs to be restrained. He’s very quick.”
Keris bent to look under the table at Aren’s legs. “He’s chained to a stone bench. Just how feeble do you believe I am that I can’t outpace a man chained to a bench?”
“His Majesty—”
“Is not here. You two are close enough to be part of the conversation, and from this brief exchange, I can already tell that I’ve no interest in further discourse with either of you. Plus, you are in the way of my little sisters’ practice. Move.”
The guards glared at him but complied, though one said, “Scream if he causes you trouble, Highness. It’s what the wives have been told to do.”
Keris forced his face into a mask of boredom despite the irritation rising in his chest. Don’t worry about what they think, he told himself. You can replace them all once you are king. “Noted.”
He turned his attention back to Aren, who was scrutinizing Keris’s forearms with a furrowed brow. Tugging down his sleeves, Keris kept his tone bland as he asked, “Now, how might I be of assistance, Your Grace? More reading material, perhaps?”
