The Windward King, page 17
Shara made himself nod calmly, but heat crawled over his face. Someone had tried to kill him and might try again, yet he cowered instead at the prospect of hearing more gunfire. Gritting his teeth, he raised his hand and waved again, letting the raindrops soothe and settle him.
At last Tishel summoned him back inside, and the little group set off again. The guards hovered uncomfortably close, and all the questions Shara wanted to ask Tishel faded into the stifling silence. He paid little attention to his surroundings until the scent of sulfur and lingering haze of smoke pricked his senses.
They’d returned to the throne room.
>><<
It might have been a tomb ransacked by robbers—chairs knocked over, fans and parasols and shawls ripped and ruined, streaks of black and red across the polished floor. No sign that he’d become a false king in this room.
Every head turned as he entered: Gepar and Admiral Thosena and Lieutenant Mereth, Nashai and her advisors, Lady Masar and Captain Sothal. Around them all crowded watchful guards, Barathi and Tethamari alike.
No Korith.
“Iliath!”
Nashai made it halfway to him before Tishel and Thosena leapt in front of Shara.
“That’s quite far enough, Your Highness,” Thosena said. She smelled strongly of sulfur and blood, and Shara’s gaze fell unbidden to her weapons.
“What is this?” Nashai’s brow furrowed, and her confusion darkened into offense. “You cannot suspect me of—”
“I’m afraid we can.”
Thosena gestured toward an alcove to their left, and Shara’s throat closed. A figure in black sprawled at the foot of a table, the floor around her dark with blood. As if in a collective trance, the group moved close enough that they could make out her features. Threads of grey in her dark hair, a sharp nose and jaw, thin lips. She was neither remarkable nor familiar.
“This is the attacker?” Shara heard himself ask.
“One of them.”
“One?”
Mereth cleared his throat. “Accounts suggest there were probably half a dozen all told. Possibly fewer—some had fabric over their faces, and descriptions of those who didn’t have been remarkably vague. Though in such a panicked state in the midst of all that smoke, I suppose we can hardly expect accurate observations. Witnesses described both men and women, so there were at least two.”
“And you dare suggest that this woman is Tethamari?” Lady Oshari somehow scowled at all the Barathi at once.
Thosena raised her hand. A pistol balanced on her index finger. “Her weapon. Tethamari made.”
Oshari scoffed. “That proves nothing. Our countries are engaged in trade. You eat Tethamari grain. Why, His Majesty—”
“Be extremely careful,” Tishel warned, “how you finish that sentence.”
Her face colored. “I only meant—”
“That Tethamar is supplying the Secret Order of Remarkably Nondescript Revolutionaries with weapons,” Thosena finished mildly.
Nashai’s gasp drowned out Shara’s poor attempt to turn a snort into a cough. Crouching beside the dead woman, she settled a trembling hand on her arm. “I’m afraid they are correct. She was one of our guard.”
No one spoke as Nashai climbed back to her feet. The Tethamari stared blankly. Captain Sothal inched closer to Nashai. Lady Masar fidgeted, clearly waiting for someone to speak so she had something to do. Not even Thosena and Tishel seemed certain how to react.
Shara’s mind spun. Iliath had invited the Tethamari here to establish peace. Was it actually possible . . . ? But why would Nashai so readily identify the woman? Why come at all if they’d intended to kill Iliath so publicly?
“Your Highness?” Again he heard his own voice, though he had no memory of deciding to speak.
Nashai fixed her eyes on him, cool and steady. She raised her hands, and for a fearful heartbeat, Shara expected her to say something in sign language that Iliath would have understood. But she only smoothed her hair. “Please accept my sincerest apologies, Your Majesty. I accept full responsibility for my guard’s actions and will make whatever recompense you require. I never would have . . .” Her voice faltered, and she shook her head. “I cannot claim that all of my people share my family’s desire for peace, and I assure you that she did not act on our behalf. I came here on good faith to treat with you. Please allow me to prove that.”
If she was lying, she was exceptionally good at it. The human belief that alvithi could sense lies was mere myth, but alvithi certainly detected signs of falsehood more easily than humans, and Nashai betrayed none of them.
But nobody else was alvithi. Gepar scoffed nervously, Thosena stared, and Tishel folded her arms and said, “You persist in claiming you are innocent?”
Nashai’s expression hardened. “I do. And since the rest of the assailants were allowed to escape—”
“If your people are truly innocent,” Tishel snapped, her voice higher than usual, “then your guards bear some of that burden. I don’t recall any of them lifting a finger to help.”
“Making up for your deficiencies is not their job,” Lord Fethan retorted. “Trust me, Captain, if we wanted a war, you would know it plainly by now. Such trickery is not Tethamar’s style.”
“Those who have crossed paths with Kana Faresh would argue differently.”
Lady Masar’s hands faltered, but Nashai had caught enough. “You dare—”
“Enough!” Shara growled, throwing his arms out.
It hit him at last—exhaustion, uncertainty, overwhelm. He could face down their weapons and drown out the noise and cover his nose against the stench, but this . . . The coronation had done nothing. He felt no different; he was no different. Still just Shara. And surely not even Korith would find Shara’s heart and instincts sufficient for this situation. Especially when they were telling him to run.
Or perhaps that voice was something less dependable than instinct.
In the rain-spattered window, his reflection watched him. Clothing dishevelled and damp and bloody, hair in disarray, eyes too wide, breaths too shallow. But Iliath’s crown remained on his head, unmoved despite everything.
There, Korith. I noticed something positive. Something immaterial, but it was better than nothing. Korith would have said so, anyway, if he’d been here instead of . . .
Please let him be safe.
He cleared his throat. “I wish to speak with my advisors,” he told Nashai, “and I’m sure you would like to confer with yours. Why don’t we resume this when everyone has had a chance to . . . rest.”
Judging by the twist in Nashai’s lips, she knew he’d chosen a kinder word than he wanted to say. “Very well. But I would speak with His Majesty first. Privately.”
Thosena started. “Absolutely not.”
Nashai’s smiled cooled. “Very well then.” She narrowed her eyes at Shara. “You are—”
“Wait.” A shiver crawled up his spine at the look in her eyes, like she had a final piece to play in a game that should have ended. And he had a horrible feeling he knew what piece it was. “It’s fine, Admiral. I will speak with her. Please escort the rest of our guests back to their quarters.”
He held up a hand to silence her protest, dimly aware that it worked, that Korith would have told him he was doing well.
One by one they turned, all scowls and quiet grumbling. Only Lady Masar lingered, and after a brief conference with Nashai, she too shuffled away, casting protective yet fearful glances over her shoulder. A final look, and she was gone.
Shara stared past Nashai and out the window, where the rain had swelled into a storm. That was for the best—he’d been expected to parade through the city after the crowning, but surely they would cancel it, and poor weather would serve as a better excuse than an attempted assassination.
Slowly Nashai moved into the center of the room, far enough from the guards Tishel had left flanking the door.
Shara gripped the back of a still-upright chair. “Well?”
She tilted her head like a hawk surveying its next meal. “You,” she said after a painfully drawn-out moment, “are not Iliath.”
Chapter 25
Just Shara
Shara’s mind went blank.
He’d expected the accusation; he’d had a plan, a response. . . . It was gone.
Not Iliath . . . just Shara . . . not Iliath . . .
“No,” he managed, tilting his chin the way Korith had taught him while he scrambled for words. “As of minutes ago, I am King Iliath.”
Nashai snorted, and her expression flitted through amusement before settling into disapproval. “You think you’re clever, do you?”
It was a more generous word than desperate. “What proof do you have?”
“Let me see.” She pivoted and paced through the maze of chairs. “You defer to your advisors on everything. You guard each word as though a wrong one might spell the end of Barath. You don’t remember any of the signs I taught him, and you’ve not so much as—” Her cheeks flushed. “I’ve met Iliath, you know. Five years is enough to change a man, but not to transform him into a coward who questions his every thought.”
Shara winced and tried to hide it with a weak smile. “So it wasn’t the squirrel-dragons crawling all over me in the gardens?”
Another smile fluttered over her face. “It could have been. Or maybe . . .” She stalked forward until a mere step separated them and prodded him abruptly in the shoulder. “Maybe it’s that you pulled a piece of your throne out of your body minutes ago and were waving your arms around without pain shortly after. Or do all Barathi heal with such miraculous speed?”
Burrs! Molting, sea-cursed humans and their slow healing.
Nashai’s expression darkened. “I could declare war on Barath right now. First you accuse my people of instigating this attack—”
“I didn’t—”
“—and now this breach of faith. To think I might have sailed home with an alvithi’s signature on our peace treaty.”
A memory, driven into hiding by everything else, now nosed its way to the front of Shara’s mind. “And when you went, would you have taken the squadron hiding in the Talons with you?”
Her eyes flew wide and then narrowed, but she said nothing.
“So you don’t deny it?”
Her scowl deepened, and she prodded one of the overturned chairs with her foot. At last she huffed. “It was a precaution, nothing more. As I said, I came here on good faith, but good faith only carries one so far in another’s land. I doubt you know enough of our shared history to appreciate how things stand.”
“I know enough. You humans carry a peace offering in one hand and a weapon in the other, and you wonder why your relations are strained. The nobles here swear oaths to their future king and make alliances behind his back. Iliath’s advisors thought replacing him with me was preferable to civil war. Do you really want peace, Your Highness? Is that truly why you came here?”
“Yes, it is.” She met his gaze, her expression hard but unwavering, fierce but sincere. Still no hints of falsehood. “But I will not see my country calumniated or deceived, and even you, whoever you are, must admit that my wariness is justified when I learn that the Barathi thought they could put an impostor on the throne and carry on as usual. Where is Iliath?”
Shara choked on laughter. “Do you think I would be here if we knew? No one wants me here, Your Highness. I’m not Barathi or even human, I have no idea what I’m doing, and you said it yourself—I’m a coward.”
To his shock, her scowl faded. “That was . . . unfair of me.” She twisted the signet ring on her finger. “You are not Iliath, but you agreed to take his place amidst extremely trying circumstances. There is no cowardice in that.”
He ducked his head. She wouldn’t say that if she knew the circumstances of his agreement. “It wasn’t really . . .”
She tapped her fingers against her palm the way she often did when asking someone to repeat their words. “Pardon?”
“Never mind.” He couldn’t make himself thank her, but maybe Korith would be satisfied knowing he’d at least not apologized.
“Very well. So Iliath simply disappeared?”
Possible responses rolled around in Shara’s mouth. How much to tell her? Yes, he was kidnapped out of his chambers and two of his guards were killed. We have no idea who did it—it might be your uncle, by the way—or where he is. “Yes.”
“And you have no idea where he might be?”
He rocked back on his heels. “We’ve eliminated the most likely location, and Lord—er, we’re investigating several others. Captain Tishel will be able to tell you more.”
“Hmm.” She looped her hands behind her back and stared down at her feet, humming softly. When she raised her eyes again, regret lined her face. “Unfortunately, I will not—cannot—treat with someone masquerading as a king. Now that the coronation is over, I’m returning to Tethamar immediately.”
Shara’s jaw dropped. “Wha—? No! You can’t—”
“The real king is missing, someone from my country just tried to assassinate his replacement, and you appear to be the only person willing to entertain the possibility of my innocence in the matter—in both matters, I imagine. I have little incentive to remain.”
She moved toward the door, and Shara dove in front of her, throwing his arms wide. How ridiculous he must look, the newly crowned monarch flailing like a child. “Wait, please. Give us a chance. A . . . a week. Stay a week.”
“And give this situation time to worsen?”
“Or improve.” His mind tumbled through possible arguments. He glanced at the body of the dead Tethamari, and something nudged his senses, the same sensation he felt whenever he overlooked an opponent’s play in malir. But whatever it was, it wouldn’t help him convince Nashai to stay. “Look, you admitted she was one of your guards, and with everyone so suspicious of you, you could end up imprisoned or punished, and—”
Nashai’s perfect eyebrows shot into her hairline. “I beg your pardon?”
Shara cringed. “That’s not—”
“This is supposed to convince me to stay? Threatening me with execution? Or would you like to pretend I misunderstood you and start again?”
He ground his teeth and sucked in a steadying breath. Alanthas. Be like Alanthas. Cool demeanor. Calming voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to threaten. I only meant that if you leave now, you’ll look even more suspicious. But if you stay, we still have a chance at finding the truth and making peace. I’ll ensure the investigation is conducted fairly and thoroughly and that the Tethamari are given the benefit of the doubt. And with luck, we’ll find Iliath so you can speak to him before deciding about the treaty.”
Nashai bit her lip and folded her arms, tapping out a rhythm with her finger. The rain beat against the windows. Shara held his breath.
“Please,” he pressed when his lungs could bear it no longer. “This isn’t Iliath’s fault. Or Barath’s. If the assassination attempt was the work of a few dissenters, surely Iliath’s disappearance was as well.”
More rain, more silence. Nashai’s mouth quirked. “You’re diplomatic, whoever you are; I’ll grant you that. But why should I believe you can achieve any of what you offer? You have no power of your own. You promised to invite my uncle to stay in the palace, but when Lord Gepar tried to dissuade me, you refused to speak against him.”
“I . . . You’re right.” He ducked his head before remembering she needed to see his face. “I’m nothing but a lost alvithi. I’ve hardly lived here a month. But there are people and places and things I care about here, and I want peace for them. I’m going to try my best to preserve it. Please . . .” He swallowed, tasting unfamiliar words on his tongue. “Please trust me.”
With agonizing slowness, she unfolded her arms. “You’re right. And I truly do want peace. You may have heard rumors about a marriage alliance between me and Iliath. I had . . . hoped to see that come to pass.” Her cheeks flushed, but her resolve never wavered. “Very well. I will give you until the full moon.”
All sense of victory fled. “That’s three days!”
She nodded. “If I were here alone, I might be able to remain longer, but with my father’s advisors present, I’m afraid that’s all I can offer. If, after that time, we’ve not found any evidence that Tethamar sanctioned this attack or orchestrated Iliath’s kidnapping—and I assure you that we won’t—I will return home.”
Somehow Shara made himself speak over the sound of his heartbeat. “And then?”
Her face became a careful mask. “My father is king; I can neither conceal what has happened here nor guarantee his response. I will do whatever I can to help discover the truth behind this attack, but I suggest you use your time wisely.”
Shara’s arms tried to wrap around his torso, and he forced himself to stand tall. “Very well. Three days. Thank you.”
Better than nothing.
. . . thinking like Korith did not make him feel nearly as positive as he’d hoped.
Nashai surveyed him thoughtfully, then slipped a hand into her coat and extracted a small notebook and a charcoal pencil. “Your name?” she asked, holding them out to him.
The pencil knocked between his trembling fingers, and the little blank square of paper gazed up at him judgmentally.
Shara.
It looked so small in the middle of that empty space, and before he could scribble it out and replace it with Iliath, he thrust the notebook back at Nashai.
She mouthed his name but did not speak it, only tucked the notebook back into her gown. “Congratulations on your coronation, King Iliath.”
She dipped into a small bow and departed in a swish of fabrics, leaving Shara alone with the rain.
Chapter 26
Permission and Presumption
“She knows.”
Tishel scowled and kept pacing. Gepar muttered, “Of course.” Shara traced the path of two raindrops chasing one another down the window. Korith was still missing, and Malothi’s absence loomed over the council room. Without her, neither Tishel nor Gepar seemed willing to speak.
