Saam moved out to meet the incoming warriors, and Daria rounded on Zarrah. “Told you he
wouldn’t give you up without a fight, which is why you aren’t to go off alone.”
“I …” What the hell was she supposed to say? Because admitting that Kian believed he was
rescuing her from rebels who’d kill her if they learned her identity wasn’t it. “I’m sorry.”
Daria knelt to close the glazing eyes of the dead woman, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t have believed he’d be that bold just to get his hands on a woman. What did he say to you?”
Kian’s words repeated in her head, none of what he’d said making any sense. While he wasn’t a rebel, Zarrah highly doubted that Kian was enough of a patriot that he’d risk life and limb to protect a member of the royal family. Which meant she had some other form of value to him—something other than him wanting another woman to have his way with. But what?
Daria was staring at her, and Zarrah realized she hadn’t answered the question. “He told me to come with him. Said my life was in danger if I stayed with you.”
Daria gave a slow blink. “Did he say why?”
“No.” And because Daria still seemed suspicious, Zarrah added, “Maybe because you’re going to think I’m more trouble than I’m worth.”
The suspicion in Daria’s gaze faded, and she gave a sad shrug. “Death happened before you came, and it will come after. Just … just don’t wander, all right?”
Zarrah nodded, but her suspicions were piqued. There was more to the island politics than was being admitted, and for some reason, she’d managed to get caught in the middle of it. All she could hope was that it didn’t get her killed before she had a chance to escape this place.
Before she could answer, he spun on his heel and joined his men racing up the slope. Seconds later, rebels who’d been away from the camp appeared, summoned by the sounds of alarm.
“Pursue?” Saam demanded, but Daria only shook her head. “No. I’ll not go rushing into one of Kian’s traps.” Her eyes fixed on the body of her comrade, spear still embedded in the woman’s chest.
“See how many we lost; then call everyone in and double the guard.”
Saam moved out to meet the incoming warriors, and Daria rounded on Zarrah. “Told you he
wouldn’t give you up without a fight, which is why you aren’t to go off alone.”
“I …” What the hell was she supposed to say? Because admitting that Kian believed he was
rescuing her from rebels who’d kill her if they learned her identity wasn’t it. “I’m sorry.”
Daria knelt to close the glazing eyes of the dead woman, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t have believed he’d be that bold just to get his hands on a woman. What did he say to you?”
Kian’s words repeated in her head, none of what he’d said making any sense. While he wasn’t a rebel, Zarrah highly doubted that Kian was enough of a patriot that he’d risk life and limb to protect a member of the royal family. Which meant she had some other form of value to him—something other than him wanting another woman to have his way with. But what?
Daria was staring at her, and Zarrah realized she hadn’t answered the question. “He told me to come with him. Said my life was in danger if I stayed with you.”
Daria gave a slow blink. “Did he say why?”
“No.” And because Daria still seemed suspicious, Zarrah added, “Maybe because you’re going to think I’m more trouble than I’m worth.”
The suspicion in Daria’s gaze faded, and she gave a sad shrug. “Death happened before you came, and it will come after. Just … just don’t wander, all right?”
Zarrah nodded, but her suspicions were piqued. There was more to the island politics than was being admitted, and for some reason, she’d managed to get caught in the middle of it. All she could hope was that it didn’t get her killed before she had a chance to escape this place.
“EITHER YOU’VE A pair of stones the size of boulders or you’re touched in the head, coming into Ithicana like this, boy.”
Keris regarded the stout old woman standing in the foyer of the palace like she owned
it, hearing Aren exhale a long sigh. “Keris, this is my grandmother, Amelie.”
He inclined his head to the Ithicanian matriarch. She wrinkled her nose as though smelling something bad and reached up to tug at the bloodied collar of his shirt, eyes flicking to her grandson.
“Your wife’s work, I take it? Blades first and her brain second, as always.”
Aren tensed with visible annoyance, but all he said was, “Stitch him up, please. We’ve business to discuss.”
She snorted. “Business, you say. I say another king making a mess of things over a woman.”
A servant with a tray approached, and Aren snagged both glasses off it and shoved one into Keris’s hands. “You might prefer to bleed to death over listening to her acid tongue. The choice is yours.”
Swallowing the contents of his own glass, Aren set it on the tray. “If you’ll excuse me.”
Keris didn’t answer, only watched as the other king took the stairs two at a time, rising to the top floor and then disappearing down a hallway.
“Idiot boy,” the old woman muttered before turning her scowl on Keris. “Come on, then. You’re dripping blood all over the clean floors.”
He followed her to the second level of the palace and into a small room, the windows at the rear shuttered against the storm. Keris pulled off his coat, then tugged his shirt over his head, tossing both on a chair.
“Not quite as sedentary as the spies claim,” the old woman said, looking him up and down in a way that made his cheeks warm. “You seem quite fit for someone who supposedly spends his life hiding in the stacks.”
“Books are heavy.”
She barked out a laugh. “You are most definitely Coralyn’s protégé—she always did love keeping secrets for the sake of it.” Rising on her toes, Amelie frowned at his throat. “Already closed itself, so we’ll leave it alone. Turn around.”
Exposing his back rarely ended well, but there was no helping it, so Keris turned.
“What befell Coralyn?” Amelie asked, hands cool against his back as she assessed the wound.
“Our spies have been otherwise focused, but I asked for them to watch for her.”
Keris’s jaw tightened, and it had nothing to do with the pain of his injury. He debated what to say, the part of him that would never forgive his aunt for what she had done to Zarrah demanding a voice, but he shoved it away. “My father was supposed to die during Aren’s rescue. When that didn’t happen, someone needed to take the fall. Should’ve been me, but Coralyn beat me to it and confessed to having orchestrated the whole affair. My father intended to allow Serin to ply his trade on her for more details, but Coralyn was never one to let him have his way. Drank two bottles of his finest and then silenced herself.”
“And they say Maridrina has no queens.” Amelie immediately segued with, “This needs to be
stitched. Do you want something to bite down on?”