The Inadequate Heir, page 40
Keris went first to the destroyed dining room, but the only bodies were those of soldiers, so he headed into the harem’s quarters.
It was eerily silent.
He proceeded down the hall to the grand suite of rooms Coralyn occupied, his heart skipping at the sight of the open door.
Then Serin’s voice reached his ears. “Who else was involved?”
“I already told you, Magpie, we don’t know. This is Coralyn’s doing.”
Lestara.
Pulse hammering in his throat, Keris stepped into the room, finding six of his aunts on their knees before Serin. The wives were all red-eyed and tear-streaked, three of them actively weeping.
His temper simmering, Keris snapped, “You’d better have a good explanation for this, Magpie. And an even better explanation for why the woman you trained has escaped the palace with both of our prisoners. This is a truly spectacular fuck-up on your part. If I were you, I’d be trying to put as much distance between me and my father as possible rather than abusing his favorite wives.”
The Magpie’s eyes darkened. “Coralyn conspired with Lara to free the Ithicanian.”
“So I’ve been told. Yet it isn’t Coralyn you’re interrogating.” Even as he spoke, Keris silently whispered, Please don’t let her be dead.
“She’s indisposed,” Serin replied. “And we’re rather short on time, Your Highness. If we don’t capture them soon, we never will.”
Indisposed could mean any number of things, and none of them eased the twist of fear in his chest. “Then why are you wasting time talking to these women?” Reaching down, he took Lestara’s hand and drew her to her feet. “Instead of punishing my aunts for your failure to predict the actions of the woman you trained, perhaps you might turn your attention to hunting my wayward sister down!”
Ignoring Serin’s glare, he helped the rest of the women rise, motioning for them to leave. Then he rounded on the Magpie. “Where is Coralyn? What have you done to her?”
“Nothing your father didn’t ask me to,” Serin answered. “The old bitch is finally going to get what she deserves for her meddling.”
Keris’s control snapped.
Grabbing the spymaster by the front of his robes, Keris slammed him against the wall, pressing his forearm against the man’s throat. “Where. Is. She?”
Serin glared at him, but as Keris pressed hard enough to cut off his air, the glare turned to panic, and he gave a tight nod. Gasping in a few breaths, he said, “You know where he puts wives that anger him.”
Suddenly, it was Keris who felt like he couldn’t breathe.
They’d put Coralyn in the hole.
THE CHEST PRESSED in on all sides, the air thick and unbreathable and filled with the scent of her own sweat. Zarrah’s breath came in fast little pants, every part of her wishing that she could be on her feet with a weapon in hand. Turning her head, she pressed her lips to the hole that Keris had drilled in the chest, sucking in mouthfuls of air as she sought some degree of calm.
She was a warrior. Her strengths were tied to the battlefield. Not to scheming and strategizing, and most certainly not to hiding in a box so that she might escape like a piece of contraband.
But if she had another chance to go with Aren and the others, she would still choose to remain. Because she trusted Keris with her life, and because by remaining, she’d prevent Keris from sacrificing himself in a desperate attempt to save his aunt.
She hoped.
Relaxing her aching fingers from around the hilt of the knife she clutched, Zarrah squeezed her eyes shut, seeing Keris’s face when she’d told him about Coralyn. The grief. The guilt. She might have spared him all of that agony by just killing his father when she’d had the chance. But the ambassadors from Harendell and Amarid and all the other nations had been alive and watching from where they’d cowered in the corner. They’d have seen. And short of slaughtering everyone in the room, there’d have been no way to keep silent that the heir to the Valcottan throne had done the killing.
This is what it’s like to rule.
The thought weighed on her mind, making her understand why her aunt kept the world at arm’s length. How could one do anything else when one was constantly forced to put the good of the Empire over the good of the individual? That was the choice her aunt had made in refusing to negotiate with Maridrina to get Zarrah back. And while she was increasingly wary of her aunt’s vision of Valcotta’s future, there was no doubt in Zarrah’s mind that she’d acted for what she perceived was the good of the Empire.
Would it be possible to change her aunt’s view of the future? Would Zarrah still have influence with the Empress after this debacle? Unease flitted through her chest as she envisioned walking into the palace in Pyrinat and explaining, as much as she dared, how her capture had transpired. Explaining how she’d forgone an opportunity to escape on the way to Vencia in favor of the chance to assassinate Silas, only to forgo both her chances to do so. First to protect Keris and then because she’d come to understand that murdering the King of Maridrina would be like dumping oil on the fires of hatred between the two nations. Explaining how she’d then escaped by making a bargain with Ithicana, another nation the Empress was at odds with, all with the help of the son of her mortal enemy.
“Fuck,” she whispered, because the truth was damning.
The door latch clicked.
Zarrah’s heart leapt as the door opened, and she steadied her breathing, listening for the familiar tread of Keris’s feet.
“He’s distracted. Search the room, top to bottom, but make sure you put everything back as it was.”
Serin.
“What are we looking for?” a man asked. Then he muttered, “This room is a mess. Don’t the servants ever come in here?”
“Search for anything that ties him to Ithicana,” Serin answered. “Or to Valcotta. And be quick about it.” The door shut.
Zarrah clenched her teeth, listening to boots thud and scrape over stone as the man moved through the room. Papers rustled and objects shifted as he searched through Keris’s things, muttering about the disarray as he went. Then boots came closer, stopping just in front of the tiny hole she was peering through.
“Who locks up books?” the man grumbled, and Zarrah flexed her fingers, the knife hilt slick with her sweat. Go away, she silently willed him even as she knew a locked box would draw his interest.
Metal scraped against metal, the man cursing under his breath as he fumbled with his picks. But there was no mistaking the click as the tumblers released.
He is only Serin’s stooge, she told herself as she listened to him pull out books, shaking them to check for loose pages. You are a general of the Valcottan army. You have been fighting since you were a child. You can defeat this man.
Except then what? She was still trapped in Silas Veliant’s inner sanctum, which was swarming with soldiers.
Something scraped along the false bottom above her, and she prayed he didn’t notice the difference in depth. Prayed that Keris would come back. Prayed that a servant would walk in and interrupt their search.
Yet even as she prayed, Zarrah planned her attack, because there was only one person she could count on to save her ass: Herself.
“Who needs so many blasted books?” The chest shifted slightly, and the man grumbled, “My God, this thing is heavy. And he takes it with him everywhere he goes. Wait …”
Silence fell, and Zarrah took a measured breath. Then another. Because this was the silence of a man who’d discovered something. Of a man who suspected he might not be alone.
Practiced hands brushed along the sides of the chest, searching.
Click.
Light blossomed above her.
And Zarrah attacked.
EVERY MEMBER OF the Veliant family knew about the hole, but given his propensity for pissing off his father in his youth, Keris knew it better than most.
He made his way to the staircase that led to the cellars beneath the harem’s building, his stomach tightening at the sight of the guards standing by the heavy door. “Open it. Now.”
One of them used a key attached to his belt to unlock the door, swinging it open, but as Keris passed, taking their lamp as he did, the man said, “The king has ordered she not be removed. Not under any circumstance.”
Keris didn’t bother answering, only kicked the door shut behind him, the damp scent of earth filling his nose even as darkness closed in around him. Turning up the lamp, he called out, “Coralyn? Auntie?”
No answer.
Heart in his throat, he moved down the stone corridor, bypassing the wine cellar and storerooms, heading to the door at the very end. As his hand pressed against the wood, Keris hesitated. What if she was dead? What if those men had been told to guard her corpse?
His breathing came in too-fast pants, his hands clammy as he prepared himself for the worst. The hinges creaked as he pushed, holding the lamp ahead of him as he swallowed hard. “Auntie?”
Silence.
“I suppose it was too much to hope that you’d leave well enough alone.”
Relief shuddered through him, sending the shadows from the lamp dancing across the mildewed walls. Keeping his voice low, Keris said, “You told me that Lara swore to kill him or die trying. So which is it, Auntie? Is my sister a liar? Or are you?”
“You know the answer.”
She’d lied to him.
Hurt lanced through his chest because other than Valcotta, she was the only other person living whom he trusted.
“I’d never have agreed to this plan if I’d known you intended to take the blame.” Not even the opportunity to save Valcotta was worth the death of his aunt. He’d have found another way. A way that protected everyone he cared about.
“I’m aware, Keris. There’s a reason I didn’t tell you the truth.”
Moving toward the dark opening in the earth, Keris looked down. About six feet in diameter and eight feet deep, the hole smelled of wet earth and decay, the light from the lamp only faintly illuminating his aunt’s face. Her cheek was bruised and her lip split, but knowing her as he did, she was likely more aggrieved that her gown was soiled by dirt. “How badly are you hurt?”
“Your father got in a few blows, but I’ve weathered plenty of that over the years from him.” She gave an annoyed sigh. “Since there isn’t a chance of you leaving without some form of chatter, go fetch me two bottles of wine.”
“Wine?”
“Yes. Be sure to pick something expensive. If I’m going to die in this hole, I might as well cost Silas money while waiting for him to do the deed.”
Keris had no intention of letting her die, but he also knew arguing would be futile. So Keris hurried back down the corridor, stopping in front of the well-stocked cellar. Picking out two bottles that he knew she favored, he all but sprinted back to the hole, closing the door behind him.
Setting the lamp next to the edge of the hole, he said, “Make me enough room that I can jump down.”
“Having to share my accommodations won’t improve them,” she said, but did as he asked.
Gripping the bottles, Keris jumped, ignoring the ache in his knees from the impact. Pulling out one of the corks, he handed her the bottle and watched as she drank from the neck. She downed half of it.
“Have they been caught?” she asked.
“Judging from the noise of the drum towers, no.”
She gave a tight nod, then drank several more gulps of wine. “You need to leave. All of this will have been for nothing if your father believes you complicit.”
“I’m not leaving you down here, Auntie.” He fought the urge to ball his hands into fists. “Not a chance.”
“You will do precisely that.” Setting down the bottle, Coralyn gripped him by the shoulders. “Already you stand on precarious ground, because you were seen speaking with Aren twice, and it is no secret that you and I are close. Don’t for a heartbeat believe that Serin won’t suspect you were involved in my scheme and use that angle to try to turn your father against you.”
“It was my scheme!”
She huffed out an amused breath that made him feel like a fool for ever believing that was the case.
“It doesn’t matter whose plot it was.” His mind raced for solutions. He’d smuggle Valcotta into the city. Would contact his supporters and take the crown by force, as he’d originally planned to do. “I’m not letting you die for me.”
“Any good mother will willingly die to spare her child such a fate.” She pulled him against her, her familiar perfume filling his nose. “More than any other child of this harem, you are my son, Keris. And I would die a thousand times over before allowing harm to come to you to spare myself pain. Besides, it’s done. Nothing you say or do is going to save me from your father.”
“You won’t need to be saved from him if he’s dead.” Pushing her back, he met her gaze. “I’ve thousands of supporters in the city. I can take the palace by force.”
“And get every member of this family killed in the process?” Her voice was filled with fury. “You will do no such thing, Keris Veliant. I will not allow you to risk this family in a futile attempt to save my life.”
“What makes you think you can stop me?” He twisted away from her, bending his knees to jump and pull himself out of the pit, because he needed to prepare his lieutenants.
“Keris.” She pulled on his coat, her voice tight. “You’re right. I can’t stop you. But perhaps the truth will make you rethink sacrificing so much to save my life.”
“I doubt that.” He pried at her fingers, but froze as she said, “I know about you and the Valcottan woman. About Zarrah.”
A chill ran down his spine. “What are you talking about?”
She exhaled a pained breath. “Don’t insult me, boy. I knew from the moment you marched that woman into my rooms that there was something going on between you two. Never mind that the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, you’ve spent your whole life running from your duties as a prince of Maridrina. Running from the politics and machinations and power plays. Yet the moment Otis captured her in Nerastis, you suddenly decide to play the game? Your idiot of a father believes that it’s becoming the heir, and your own desire to survive, that has caused this change in you, but I know you better than that.”
Denial seemed pointless, so Keris only stared at her in silence.
“If it had been only lust, I might have turned a blind eye. Except when I dressed Zarrah like a courtesan and paraded her in front of you, you didn’t look at her as someone to be bedded and discarded; you looked at her like you wanted to get down on your knees and beg for her hand! As though you loved her!”
He couldn’t help but flinch, especially as tears poured down her face.
“I knew she’d be your damnation. That if anyone discovered what was between you, your father would kill you, because what you two are doing is forbidden by both your peoples. If you were dirt-poor farmers, it would be forbidden, but you are the heirs to the most powerful families on the continent!”
His throat was thick as he said, “Do you think we aren’t aware of that? We both know there’s no future in it.”
Coralyn’s face crumpled as though some part of her had hoped she’d been wrong and he’d ripped that hope away from her. “You know it, but do you accept it, Keris? Or is there a part of you that believed if you took the crown, took power, you could force Maridrina to accept her as your consort? That believed you could force peace down the throats of two nations that have hated each other for generations? Some stubborn part of you that believed you could have it all?”
Keris’s lips parted to deny it, to scoff in disgust at such a suggestion, but the words wouldn’t come. Because hearing it made him wonder if it was true. “I wanted peace long before I met Zarrah.”
“But it wasn’t until you met her that you risked anything to achieve it.”
It was true, but not in the way she framed it. Meeting Valcotta, knowing Valcotta, had changed him. Made him believe himself capable of achieving things he had never believed possible. And made him understand that anything worth achieving required sacrifice.
“Not just your own future, your own life, but the lives of everyone in this family. For if you pursue this future, you will see the Veliant name, and all those who bear it, burned to ash. I couldn’t allow that to happen, so instead, I resolved to kill Zarrah. Aided her quest for vengeance for her mother’s death and got her all the way to your father’s chambers in the tower, knowing his guards would slaughter her. Knowing that I’d kill two birds with one stone and you’d never be wiser to my involvement.”
His breath came in fast little pants, his anger rising. Not just anger, but blistering fury. Coralyn hadn’t just tried to murder Valcotta; she’d manipulated her using the wounds her mother’s murder had left behind.
“But she didn’t take her chance, choosing instead to protect you from your brother, never mind that it was your affair that set him against you in the first place.” Coralyn was shaking, the words coming out between sobs. “Not even your brother’s death was enough to turn you from her. Instead you sought to make it worse with a coup, willing to let a hateful mob into our home for the sake of freeing your goddamned whore.”
“Don’t you fucking call her that,” he hissed.
“Why not?” Coralyn spit between sobs. “The Empress will call her that and worse should she ever learn what Zarrah has done.”
“Then call me the same, for she’s done nothing that I haven’t done!”
“It’s not the same.”
“It is!” He didn’t care if the guards heard. Twisting away from her, Keris pressed his forehead against the wall of the hole, sucking in breath after breath as he fought for composure. Fought to master the grief he felt over this betrayal by the one person he’d trusted all his life.
“You convinced Zarrah to kill him tonight in exchange for the chance to escape with Aren, didn’t you? You never intended to take the fall—you intended to use her to martyr my father so that all hope of peace between our nations would be lost.”
