The Inadequate Heir, page 41
“Yes.”
He rounded on her. “You were willing to escalate a war that would see thousands dead just to destroy any hope I might have of being with Zarrah?”
“To protect you.” She choked out the words. “And to protect the family.”
“Have you ever stopped to think that maybe this family doesn’t deserve protection?”
Before she could answer, someone shouted in the distance, “Your Highness?” When Keris didn’t respond, boot steps echoed down the corridor.
Panic flashed in his aunt’s eyes. “Climb out! They can’t see you down here!”
Keris was furious with her. But that didn’t mean he wished her death. Far from it—what he wanted was the chance to prove her wrong. “I’m going to talk to my father. I’ll convince him to spare you—he’ll find it strange if I do otherwise.”
“Fine. Do what you will. You always do.”
Bending his knees, Keris jumped, pulling himself over the edge of the hole. He rose to his feet, right as the door to the chamber opened. But the screech of hinges wasn’t enough to drown out the sound of breaking glass below.
“Apologies for the interruption, my lord,” the guard said from the doorway. “The king wishes to have a word with the lady.”
Ignoring the man, Keris held the lantern down into the hole to better see his aunt, trepidation filling him, though he wasn’t certain why. “Coralyn …?”
There was blood everywhere.
The arms of her dress were soaked crimson from elbow to wrist, the broken wine bottle still gripped in her hand. “Forgive me.”
“Get the physician,” he shouted at the guard, then jumped back in the hole. He closed his hands over her wrists, trying to stem the tide, panic filling him as blood flowed between his fingers. “Why? Why have you done this?”
“I can’t risk Serin’s questions,” she answered between clenched teeth, already sagging in his grip. “You need to get out. You need to go.”
“I’m not leaving you!” Tears rolled down his cheeks. It didn’t need to be this way. He would have shown her. Would have shown them all.
Coralyn dropped to her knees, and Keris dropped with her, barely hearing the shouts of alarm from above. Barely feeling the blood soaking his clothes as his aunt slumped against him.
“I love you, dear one,” she whispered.
And then she said nothing more.
HER HANDS STRUCK the false bottom, sending it flying upward into the man’s face.
He cried out, but Zarrah ignored him and the pain of her cramped body as she launched from the chest.
She dived into him, sending them both rolling across the floor into a stack of books. Grabbing one, she smashed it into the man’s temple. He lay there, stunned, and she scrambled to her feet, slamming her heel down on his spine. The crack of his neck seemed to echo, and Zarrah glanced toward the door, waiting for it to open. Waiting for someone to investigate the noise. But the door remained closed.
Crossing the room, she locked the door, then turned to survey the corpse sprawled across the carpet. A corpse she was going to need to find a way to hide. She’d avoided using her knife to minimize the mess, but the bastard had loosed his bowels, and the room already smelled of shit and piss.
“Where the fuck are you, Keris?” She clung to her anger because the alternative was terror. What if something had happened to him? What if Silas had accused him of being involved?
What if Keris had done something stupid to try to save his aunt?
The thoughts spun through her head, compounded by her sense of helplessness at being stuck in here while he was out there facing their foes. But if she went out, and Keris did have the situation in hand, she’d destroy his hard-laid plans. Instead, she stripped the man of his soiled trousers and mopped up the mess with toweling, all of which she dumped down the privy, wishing it was large enough to dump the man himself. Then she wrapped the man in a blanket and shoved him under the bed.
Not a permanent solution, but the best she could do for now. Going back to the book chest, she climbed into it, debating how to close the false bottom over her again.
Click.
The door bolt turned. She whirled, pulling the knife from her belt as Keris stepped through the door.
Covered in blood.
Panic turned the room bright as she leapt out of the box, crossing the floor to him. He leaned back to close the door, closing his eyes as he rested against it. “What happened? Where are you hurt?”
“It’s not my blood. It’s Coralyn’s.”
She saw then that his eyes were red and swollen, his dirty cheeks streaked where tears had fallen. “She’s …?”
“Yes.”
An ache filled Zarrah’s chest, because she knew this pain. Could have spared him this pain, if only she’d done what Coralyn had asked. “I’m so sorry. This is my fault. If—”
Keris’s eyes snapped open. “This is not your fault.” He closed the distance between them, gripping her face gently. She could smell the blood on his hands as he said, “She told me what she did. Told me why. Coralyn dug her own goddamned grave tonight for no better reason than that she couldn’t see a future different from the present.”
There was a quiver to his voice, the grief in his eyes so vast it carved out her heart. Though part of her wanted to ask what Coralyn had said, what had happened, Zarrah sensed that talking about it would undo him. And they were far from out of danger. So instead, Zarrah wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling Keris against her.
She felt the rapid pounding of his heart against her breasts, her cheek pressed against his, rough with stubble.
“You shouldn’t be out of the chest,” he said. “It’s not safe.”
Zarrah swallowed hard. “Someone came in. His body is under the bed.”
“Pardon?” He blinked at her, eyes hazed with grief and exhaustion, though they sharpened swiftly enough when he realized her words were no jest.
“Serin sent him in here to search for proof you’re involved with this escape,” she said as he crossed the room, bending to lift up the bed skirt and swiftly recoiling. “The man was thorough and discovered where I was hidden. I had no choice but to kill him.”
“Shit.” Keris scrubbed his hands back through his hair, and she noticed his face was pale. “Why can’t one goddamned thing go as planned?”
Battles rarely went as planned—the secret was being able to adapt your strategy. To look for solutions to problems as they occurred. They needed to get rid of the corpse somewhere it would never be found, which was impossible within the palace. Anywhere they put it, the body would eventually be found, and the blame would fall back on Keris.
“What the fuck do we do with him?”
Zarrah heard the edge of panic in his voice. Knew that he’d been pushed too hard, too far, to think clearly. But she’d been raised on the battlefield, trained to fight and to think even when bodies were falling around her. Even when her life was on the line. Which meant her mind was now at its sharpest. “We take him with us.”
HEART IN HIS throat, Keris followed the pair of sweating men he’d tasked with carrying his trunk of books down from the tower, keeping his arms crossed and a scowl on his face as they passed through the gardens and out the gates into the main palace.
Only for the drum towers, which had been a constant barrage of noise for hours, to plunge into silence.
Keris froze, his stomach twisting. Had Aren been caught or killed? Was that why the towers had ceased their noise? All it would take was one of Aren’s party being caught alive, one of them caving to Serin’s torture, for the information of Zarrah’s whereabouts to be revealed.
As well as Keris’s complicity in the escape.
Hooves clattered, and his father appeared before him, mounted on the back of his stallion. “They’ve made it up the cliffs outside the western gate,” he shouted at the soldiers massing around them. “We can’t let them reach the water! Go!”
His eyes latched on Keris. “Where the fuck are you going?”
“Nerastis.” He met his father’s glare, not bothering to curb the venom in his voice. “As you ordered. Your Grace.”
“Now?”
“You told me to be gone by dawn. And as it stands, I find there little reason for me to remain in Vencia.”
The horse sidled sideways, betraying his father’s tension, and he hauled on the reins. “Coralyn deserved her fate. She’s a traitor to the Veliant name.”
There was no one more loyal to this family than her, Keris wanted to scream, but he bit down on the words. Because drawing his father’s ire would be foolish. And because Coralyn’s loyalty to her family had been what had gotten her killed. “My ship sets sail at dawn. Do you have any orders for me?”
His father stared him down, then gave a tight nod. “War will be coming to Nerastis. Make sure we are ready.” Then he dug in his heels and galloped out the gate.
THE STREETS OF Vencia were empty except for the soldiers patrolling them, everyone under orders to remain in their homes while the city was searched. It was quiet, but the stink of smoke from the fire at the east gate was nearly as thick as the tension that hung in the air as his carriage slowly made its way down to the harbor.
The wind had risen, the waters rippling with whitecaps despite the thick storm walls that protected it from the worst the seas had to offer, which meant it would be rough once they passed out into open water. But being out on violent seas was more appealing than remaining in Vencia a moment longer, because drowning would be a far more merciful death than would be granted them if they were caught.
Soldiers flanked the gangplank as Keris and the servants carrying his trunks approached, the men with his book trunk staggering beneath its weight. Aboard, more men searched the contents of the vessel, his father taking no chances of anyone escaping. The sight had sweat rolling in rivulets down Keris’s spine.
“Your Highness.” The soldier in command bowed low. “I regret the inconvenience, but your belongings must be searched before the ship can set sail.”
Keris huffed out an annoyed breath but gestured to his trunks. “Be quick about it. I’ve had a long night.”
They riffled through the one full of clothing, then turned to the trunk with its precious—and damning—cargo. Turning to him, the soldier said, “I need the key, my lord.”
Digging the small bit of metal from his pocket, Keris unlocked the trunk, lifting the lid and stepping back. His stomach was in ropes as the man picked up a book, setting it on the ground before plucking up two more. The layer of books over the false bottom was only six deep. If the soldier reached it, there was no way in hell that he wouldn’t guess there was something hidden beneath.
Surrounded by soldiers as they were, there’d be no escape.
Feeling ready to vomit, Keris snatched the book the man was holding out of his hands. “That’s the only copy in existence. Have a care with it.”
The man frowned. “It’s just a book.”
“It cost two hundred pieces of gold.” Which was total bullshit. He’d picked up the volume from a bookseller for a handful of silver. But it had an ornate cover, so it looked expensive. “One good gust of wind and I’ll lose the lot to the harbor, and it will be you I hold accountable.”
The soldier hastily set the book back in its place, then stared at it, clearly warring between the cost of disobeying orders and the cost of damaging Keris’s belongings. The latter prevailed, and the man reloaded the chest, gesturing at the servants to carry it aboard the vessel. “Safe travels, Your Highness. The seas are fierce.”
It was a struggle not to let the breath he was holding out with a loud woosh, and Keris pretended to pluck at lint on his sleeve as he followed the trunks up the gangplank.
The captain met him at the top, but Keris only half heard the man’s pleasantries as he was led to a large stateroom, where his trunks were placed neatly against one wall, the men who’d carried the book trunk grumbling about the weight as they exited. “No interruptions,” he told the man. “I prefer to study at night and sleep during the day, and if I wish for food or libation, I will call for it. Understood?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“When do we set sail?”
“As soon as the soldiers finish searching my ship.” The captain scuffed his boot against the ground, his eyes bright with curiosity. “Is it true the King of Ithicana has escaped?”
“Unless he’s aboard this ship, Aren Kertell’s whereabouts are not your concern.”
The captain’s eyes widened. “Certainly not, my lord! I am loyal to king and crown.”
“Wonderful. I look forward to journeying south with you.” Stepping inside, Keris bolted the door behind him, then searched the room for any spyholes drilled into the wall, but there were none.
He stopped next to the trunk holding Zarrah. “I’ll get you out as soon as we pass the breakwater.” They’d still be at risk, but not from his father’s soldiers deciding they needed to do another inspection of the ship. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” came a soft whisper.
Going to the window at the back of the cabin, which held a stained-glass panel depicting flowers and greenery, Keris stared out the clear pane in the center. The ship bobbed, the faint sound of sailors shouting filtering through the walls, and then the vessel drifted away from the dock. He gripped the edge of the window frame, watching the rough buildings of the harbor, faintly lit by the dawn sun, grow smaller and smaller as they picked up speed. Then the breakwater, the opening flanked by two towers, appeared. A few minutes later, the deck tilted as the sails caught the heavy wind that tore around the point, the ship bucking and plunging on the rough surf. The vessel headed farther out to sea, then shifted direction, heading south along Maridrina’s coast.
Keris exhaled, finally allowing his shoulders to slump, adrenaline fading and leaving exhaustion in its wake. Valcotta was free.
THERE WASN’T ENOUGH air to breathe, and what there was of it reeked of corpse.
Zarrah pressed her face to the tiny air hole, sucking in breath after breath, but it felt as though a band of steel was tightening around her chest, slowly suffocating her. The body shoved in next to her grew stiffer by the second, though at least it had finally stopped its twitching.
Let me out, she silently pleaded. Please let me out.
Only her pride kept her from screaming the words aloud.
Then the scent of Keris’s cologne filled her nose, spicy and familiar and comforting. “We’re at sea. I’m going to get you out now.”
Relief tempered her rising panic, but Zarrah’s heart didn’t ease its gallop until he’d pulled out the layer of books, the volumes thumping against the floor like he was throwing them. Until he’d pulled up the false bottom, letting in a rush of air. Until he was hauling her out of the trunk and wrapping her in his arms.
Zarrah’s muscles screamed as her body unfolded, her legs shuddering as she forced them to straighten, but she didn’t care.
She was free.
“Look,” he whispered in her ear, half carrying her to the window. “That’s Vencia in our wake.”
The hill holding the city rose above the wall of the breakwater, the palace that had been her prison sitting atop, the bronze dome of Silas’s tower glinting in the dawn light. To be free of it seemed impossible, and part of her feared she’d awake to find herself back in her tiny room in the harem’s house, her escape only a dream.
“Are you all right?”
She tore her gaze from the city to look at Keris and found herself once again short of breath. Lifting her hand, she tucked a lock of his hair behind his ear, wondering how his eyes had ever inspired her hate. Wondering how she’d ever compared them to his father’s, for beyond the color, they were nothing alike. “Yes. Other than the fact I stink like corpse and have needed to piss for hours.”
He winced. “I’m sorry. I wish there’d been another way.”
“It was my idea, Keris,” she reminded him; then they both turned to stare at the body stuffed into the trunk, limbs bent at awkward angles from Keris forcing the man to fit. “Let’s dump him while it’s still dark.”
Working together, they hauled the man out of the trunk and over to the window. Zarrah opened it, air that smelled of brine and storm rushing over her, lightning crackling to the north over Ithicana. The ship rose over a large wave, then plummeted down, spray rising to mist her hair. More than enough noise to cover the sound of a body splashing into the water.
“Ready?” she whispered as the ship rose another wave. “Now!”
They heaved the man out the window, watching him strike the water right as the ship hit the dip between waves. The corpse disappeared beneath the foam.
“Serin will suspect.” Keris leaned on the windowsill, the muscles in his forearms bunching. “There’s no way around that.”
“He’s suspected for a long time but not had the proof he needed to convince your father.” She hesitated, then added, “I overheard them that night in the tower. Your father … he’s protecting you.”
“I don’t believe that. My father hates me.”
Was it better that he continue to believe that? Better for her to stop this conversation in its tracks than to open old wounds? It was tempting, but Keris had kept hard truths from her out of the desire to protect her. Truths that had subsequently been delivered to her by others with hate in their hearts. Truths that she’d rather have heard from him. “I don’t think he does. I think you frustrate him and piss him off, but … but you’re the only person who isn’t afraid to stand up to him, and he respects that.”
“That’s bullshit.” He scowled at the water. “I’m fucking terrified of him. Always have been.”
“But you still don’t bend to him.” She bit her bottom lip. “He believes you’re suppressing your true nature, but that there will come a point you’ll embrace it. That you’ll live up to your name and be the heir he wants you to be. That’s why he’s protecting you.”
