The Inadequate Heir, page 51
The look she gave him made Keris feel sick, but he pressed forward. “Regain her favor and secure your position as heir. Become Empress. Do all the good you dreamed of doing. I’ll do the same and …” He trailed off, because the horror in her eyes had disappeared, and in its place was fury.
“Aren trusted me,” she said between her teeth. “And I trusted you. Instead of honoring that trust, you betrayed me.”
“I didn’t betray you.” He’d known she’d react like this. Known she’d be angry. “I—”
“Protected me? Saved my life?” Tears streamed down her face, and he took a step toward her, but she held up a hand. “Don’t. I love you, Keris. God help me, I do. But right now, I also hate you because you are your father’s son. You will have things your way no matter the cost.”
It’s worth it, he told himself even as her words cut deep. She’s alive and will remain alive, so it’s worth this pain.
But it hurt to hear the accusation from her. Like a knife to the heart, as the truth so often was. Yet he wouldn’t take his actions back. Refused to be sorry, because Zarrah would live. “Maridrina, Valcotta, Ithicana … someone had to lose, Zarrah. Having everyone come out of this unscathed was never an option. I tried to convince my father to walk away, but it was never going to happen, so I had to choose.” His voice shook. “We could change our world, Zarrah. Create a peace between two nations who’ve been at war for generations. Save thousands of our people’s lives. But that doesn’t come without sacrifice, and that sacrifice is Ithicana.”
Zarrah dropped to her knees, pressing her forehead to the dirt, but when he stepped toward her, she lifted her face. “Don’t you dare come closer.”
“Zarrah.” He hated that he had caused her this grief. He wished that there was a way to erase her pain.
But he refused to regret what he’d done.
“You say you did it for our kingdoms, but that isn’t it, is it?” she sobbed. “You did it for me. To save me. Admit it!”
“Zarrah—”
“Admit it!” The screamed words were punctuated by a sudden crack of thunder, the wind gusting over them.
He felt strangled, unable to speak. But he managed to get out, “I couldn’t …” Lose you, was what Keris had intended to say, but he’d known that in doing this, he’d lose her to hate. “I couldn’t let you die.”
“But now I have to live knowing that my life came at the expense of hundreds. Thousands!” She sobbed the words, shoulders trembling. “And there’s nothing I can do to change that.”
I don’t regret it, Keris silently chanted. “If there’d been another way, I’d have taken it. I don’t want Ithicana to fall. I don’t want people to die, but too many wanted war for a battle to be avoided.”
“There was another way—my way! But you didn’t like my choice, so you took it away.” Zarrah scrubbed the tears from her face, then met his gaze. “I will never forgive you for that, Keris Veliant. I never want to see your face again. Never want to hear your voice. And if we cross paths, I will kill you.”
His skin felt like ice, his stomach hollow. I don’t regret it. I … The voice in his head faltered.
“I’m leaving.” She straightened. “But not to go goddamned south. I’m going to try to help Ithicana.”
His eyes snapped to the storm racing in from the east, the clouds dark as midnight but for the constant bursts of lightning branching through them. Not a squall, but one of the Tempest Seas’ legendary typhoons. A ship killer. And it was racing west faster than any ship could sail. “No, Zarrah. You can’t—the storm.”
“I’m going to Aren’s aid, Keris. And this time, you can’t stop me.” Zarrah twisted away, striding toward the path.
She was going to get herself killed. After everything that had happened, after every sacrifice that had been made, she was going to get herself killed. Which meant it had all been for nothing.
Keris broke into a sprint after her, desperately reaching for her arm even as he hunted for words that would change her mind.
But Zarrah whirled, staff in hand, the tip flying toward him.
And then all he saw was darkness.
“THE STORM IS HEADED straight for Eranahl,” the captain shouted over the violent winds and surf. “Even if the battle still rages, it won’t for long—this storm will put every ship it catches below the sea! We must turn south and attempt to get out of its path!”
“No!” She screamed the word in defiance. Not at the captain or the storm, but at Keris.
Keris, whom she’d left unconscious and bleeding and alone on Southwatch Island. Keris, who had betrayed her trust. Keris, who had condemned Ithicana to save her.
And yet for all he’d done, she still loved him.
“General,” the captain pleaded. “We must turn south. Give the order. Please!”
“I can’t! We have to help them!” She couldn’t live with herself if Ithicana fell. If Aren and Lara and all their people died because of her. Better to go to the grave knowing she’d done everything she possibly could.
“Then you damn us all!” The captain abandoned the wheel to his first mate, gripping her shoulders, both of them struggling to balance on the storm-tossed ship. “A thousand Valcottan souls will perish if you don’t abandon this course.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “They say the tempests defend Ithicana—trust that they will do so now.”
Tempests wouldn’t be enough to stop Silas Veliant. Yet all around, she saw her crew, her soldiers, clinging to ropes and rails. All of them had agreed to this. All of them had been willing to risk life and limb to do what was right, but would she be in the right condemning them to death?
I need to honor myself. Her own words repeated in her head, and slowly, Zarrah bowed her shoulders. “Turn south. And may fate, God, and the stars have mercy on Ithicana.”
And on her.
FOR NEARLY AN hour, he’d been kneeling on the dais while a series of priests and priestesses conducted his coronation. Old men and women droning on about his divine right to rule and other such nonsense, it not lost on him that given the Veliant family’s infamous lack of piety, it seemed unlikely that God had anything to do with his current position.
Keris barely heard half of what they said anyway, their voices drowned out by the endless repeat of his last conversation with Zarrah, his eyes filled with her tear-streaked face. He’d woken up on the ground, his head aching and his vision swimming, but he’d had sense enough to climb the lookout tower in time to watch her sail away. To scream her name, because he’d been certain the storm would claim her.
That despite everything, she was going to die.
I don’t regret it. Those were the words he’d told himself a hundred times. That it didn’t matter if Ithicana fell, didn’t matter if she hated him, didn’t matter if he hated himself, he wouldn’t regret it. Yet every time he’d spoken those words, they’d been a lie.
Because he regretted everything.
Something heavy settled on the top of his head, and Keris twitched, realizing that it was a crown. The crown of Maridrina. His father’s crown.
His father was dead.
Ithicana, under Aren’s leadership and Lara’s bravery, had prevailed, his father’s fleet nearly destroyed by the storm and hundreds of lives lost beneath the waves. And despite it having been his plan that failed, his plan that had lost the bridge, Keris was being raised up high as king, the people singing his name in the streets and proclaiming that Maridrina would enter a new era of peace under his rule.
The last thing he deserved was songs.
His knees cracked as he rose, one of the priests handing him the jeweled scepter of his office, and as Keris turned, the man intoned, “All hail King Keris of Maridrina!”
As one, the masses of nobility filling the cathedral dropped into deep bows and curtsies, the enormous structure entirely silent as he said, “As your sovereign, I swear in the eyes of God to uphold Maridrina’s laws and protect our borders from those who might do our people harm. To raise Maridrina up high so that it might shine as the brightest jewel of the known world.” He cleared his throat, the next not words that had been given to him to say but those he’d given himself. “I swear to pursue lasting peace and true alliances. To listen to my people and be their voice. To protect those who need protecting and to bring the villains who would prey upon them to justice. This I swear.”
The nobility all stared at him in silence, but Keris heard the whispers of his words being repeated, moving back through the building and out into the open air, where throngs of civilians waited. Heard their cheers and calls of his name.
And felt hollow.
He was supposed to walk in a stately fashion down the aisle toward the rear, but Keris found himself striding quickly, looking neither left nor right as he passed, leaving the procession behind him. At his nod, the guards flung open the doors, and he blinked away tears from the brilliant glare of the morning sun before stepping down the steps to the awaiting carriage.
Settling in the rear seat, he fought the urge to yank the curtains closed even as he struggled to regain control of his thundering heart, the weight of the responsibility he now held only just starting to take hold. The carriage rocked as it started to move, slowly making its way through the cheering throngs.
Throngs that only yesterday had been weeping for the loss of so many soldiers—husbands, sons, fathers, and brothers who’d died on the slopes of Eranahl or drowned in the Tempest Seas. Throngs that cursed his father for all that he had done, and Keris wanted to climb onto the roof of the carriage and scream, It was my plan! It is me you should blame!
Just like she does.
Zarrah.
Her ships had been spotted heading south, though there was no word yet from the spies of whether she was on them or not. But he knew. Knew in his heart that she was alive.
Keris bent forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and the crown slid from his head to land with a heavy thud on the carriage floor. Gold glinted in the sun filtering through the windows, the Maridrinian rubies that adorned it looking like drops of blood.
She consumed his thoughts. Ruled his dreams to the point he’d had to drown himself in wine to silence her voice. To vanquish her eyes, which always stared at him with the pain of betrayal.
I’m sorry, he silently whispered, wishing he could say it to her face. But she’d been clear: she never wanted to see him again. After all that he’d done, at least he could honor her in that. And by pursuing the future they’d dreamed of, even if it always meant standing on opposite sides of a border.
There was no doubt in his mind about the first step he needed to take as Maridrina’s king.
Bring the villains to justice.
The carriage rolled through the palace gates, and he reluctantly picked the crown up off the floor and placed it on his head. The door opened, and he stepped out, not waiting for the endless carriages carrying his aunts and siblings to arrive before heading into the inner sanctum. There were things he intended to address with his family—for he refused to call them the harem any longer—but that would wait. This, this, had to come first.
Dax, beard neatly trimmed and uniform freshly pressed, met him at the base of the tower. “Your Grace.” He gave a low bow, but his voice was full of amusement as he added, “Nice hat.”
“It’s godawful heavy.” Keris pulled it off once they were inside, hooking it over his forearm. “Now I understand why my father never wore it.”
“Hopefully you bear the weight of responsibility better than that rat bastard ever did.”
Keris cast a sidelong glance at the captain of his personal guard. “Time will tell, Dax. Time will tell. Someone has been sent to fetch him?”
Dax nodded. “It’s all been done exactly as you wanted.” His mouth stretched into a feral grin. “The crowd that will gather to watch that monster’s execution is going to be bigger than that for your coronation, Your Grace. You might make it a holiday.”
“I’ll take it under consideration.” They rounded the stairs of the tower, rising up to the top level, where more of Keris’s personal guards stood at the entrance, the old guard who’d been so loyal to his father dead at Eranahl or dismissed with the warning to make themselves scarce. One of them opened the door, and Keris stepped into the office, surveying what had once been his father’s domain. The place where he’d ruled from high above like some false god.
“I hate this room.” He set the crown on the desk, his skin crawling with the sense his father was watching. That he wasn’t dead, and when Keris turned around, it would be to see him walking through the door, ready to put him in his place.
“It’s your house,” Dax answered, not seeming to note Keris’s tension. “Redecorate.”
Except Keris didn’t think burning every object in this room would be enough to erase his father’s presence. Pouring himself a drink, he unbuckled his sword belt and leaned the weapon against the desk before sitting.
Seconds passed, then minutes, and though he should have been anticipating the sweetness of the moment to come, Keris’s hands were clammy with sweat, his stomach in ropes.
A knock sounded at the door.
“Send him in.” It was a small miracle that his voice was steady, because his heart felt like it was ricocheting off his ribs.
The Magpie stepped inside.
“Your Majesty.” He bowed low. “My most sincere felicitations on your coronation. I was saddened to have missed it, but my flock has shared with me all the delightful details, including your speech.” The spymaster smiled, revealing his rotting teeth. “So inspiring. The cheers of the masses reached me even within the depths of my workroom.”
I have the power now, Keris reminded himself. Not this creature. But the reminder did nothing to steady his nerves, nothing to ease the growing sense that even with the crown in his grasp, he was not in control. “I assume you know why you’re here?”
“Of course.” Serin gestured to the chair. “May I?”
Keris shrugged, struggling to keep his calm in the face of Serin’s composure.
Once the old man had settled into the chair across from him, having carefully arranged his brown robes, Keris said, “When you leave this room, it will be in chains, Serin. You will be taken to prison, where you will be kept under heavy guard until the time of your trial. A trial that will unveil all the many horrors you visited upon the people of Maridrina with my father’s blessing. I will, of course, convict you of all of them, at which time you will be executed.”
Serin’s smile didn’t falter. “Coralyn would be so pleased, Your Grace. I believe she wished for my death even more than she wished for your father’s, and here, you’ve accomplished both.”
“My father died in battle. By the Queen of Ithicana’s hand, if the rumors are to be believed.”
Serin huffed out an amused breath. “You’ve always been a gambler, Your Grace. All your adult life, my flock has watched you shed the veneer of the polished, bookish prince to climb into the heights and slum it with the masses, rolling dice and betting on cards, the rush you gained worthy of the risks you took.” He ran his tongue over his lips. “This was no different. You gave your father a perfect plan, but you bet on his failure. Or, to be more accurate, bet on your sister’s desire to atone.”
It was Keris’s turn to laugh, though it was entirely feigned. “You’re allowing your imagination to get the better of you, Serin. How could I have predicted any of what happened? There was no way for me to know a storm would strike. No way for me to know the Ithicanian queen was alive, much less at Eranahl, to deliver that fatal blow. This was the work of higher powers than me.”
“Then these higher powers must favor you, Your Grace, for everything has worked out as you intended.” His rheumy eyes glinted. “Almost, at any rate.”
Keris’s skin prickled and crawled with tension. No … not tension, fear. Serin had something up his sleeve. Something that was going to hurt. His mind raced over what it could be, because he’d ensured his family was under guard, with the men hand-selected by Dax. That his little sister Sara had been hidden out of harm’s reach. Except he knew this creature had his ways, for Keris had watched him destroy people all his life. He glanced to Dax. “Leave us.”
The man hesitated, watching Serin as most people would a poisonous snake. “Your Grace …”
“It’s fine.” Even as Keris said the words, he slipped a knife from his boot, resting it across his lap. “You’re not going to try to kill me, are you, Magpie?”
Serin’s jaw tightened, ever hateful of that moniker. “No, Your Majesty. I have greater ambitions than your death.”
Keris’s blood ran cold, sweat rolling down his spine as Dax left the room. “Enough with the games, Serin. My plan is to give you a swift death via the headsman, but if you continue to test my patience, I may have to resort to my original intention, which was to nail your feet to the dirt in the garden below and then give my aunts several buckets of rocks. They dislike you even more than I do.”
The Magpie only leaned back in his chair and laughed. “I neither feel nor fear pain, Your Grace. Besides, I knew in coming here that I was walking toward my death.”
“Then why didn’t you run? You of all people have the wherewithal to escape and stay hidden.”
Serin rubbed at the grey stubble of his chin, flakes of dry skin falling like snow to join the collection dusting his robe. “True, but it is hard to give up power once one has grown used to it, and while many might wish to live out their last years in peace, I am not one of them. Peace has never given me any pleasure, and as such, I will always walk the opposite direction of such a fate. Which is why I walked toward you.”
Keris’s thoughts raced, trying to predict the man’s intent. Trying to predict his plans. But his mind came up empty of anything but rising panic.
“Your father was the perfect master in that he was the perfect pawn,” Serin continued. “In all but one thing: his weakness for your mother. And her spawn.” He spit on the floor. “Despite all my protests that you both would be the death of him, he favored you and Lara. Saw your failings as merits, and even after your sister showed her true colors, he refused to turn on you.”
