Unhewn Throne 01 - The Emperor's Blades

Adare stood up, her agitation demanding some form of physical expression. She paced to the far wall of the library, trying to sort and sift the facts and suspicions. Beyond the clear stone, the sun was setting over the city, and she could feel its rays warm on her cheeks and lips. When she turned, Ran was standing by her side, though she had not heard him approach.

 

“He’s a leach,” she said. It was the only explanation.

 

The kenarang considered the suggestion with pursed lips.

 

“I’ve read all the histories,” Adare pressed on. “Linnae and Varren, even that endless commentary by Hengel. This is the sort of thing a leach can do, if his well is strong and close.”

 

“It makes sense,” Ran agreed finally, nodding slowly at the idea. “If you could get the people to believe that, they would tear him apart themselves.”

 

“But how?” Adare said, fingernails biting into her palms. “The people believe that Intarra loves him. How do you distinguish between divine favor and some leach’s kenning?”

 

“It’s all kenning. There is no divine favor.”

 

“You believe that, but they don’t. The man has become practically a hero overnight. We can’t kill him without disgracing him first, without revealing his secret in a way that no one can doubt or deny. When we’ve shown him for a liar and a leach, then it won’t even matter what we do. He’ll be finished.”

 

“As you’ve already pointed out,” Ran replied, putting a hand on her shoulder as though to slow down the flood of her words, “Intarra’s rewards are irritatingly difficult to distinguish from a leach’s kenning.”

 

“I know,” Adare said, biting her lip. “I know.”

 

The sun had dipped under the horizon, bloodying the sky, but her cheeks still burned with the last rays or their own inner heat. There had to be a way. Her father would have seen it. If she could just come at the matter from the right angle, attack it from the proper direction. Every problem had a solution, if she could just …

 

“Leave it,” Ran said, trying to guide her back toward the room. “Sleep on it. Sometimes the ideas come only when the mind is gone. You have to give them space.”

 

Adare turned to stare at him, at that fine chiseled face, those deep eyes. There was something in what he’d said, something—

 

“Yes,” she said, a thrill running through her, the shape of plan suggesting itself. “Yes! That’s exactly how we’ll do it.” She smiled wide. “But I’ll need someone good with poisons.”

 

Ran frowned. “You just got done telling me that we can’t just kill him.”

 

“Oh,” she said, hopeful for the first time since her father’s death, “I’m going to do so much more than just kill him.”

 

And then, to the kenrang’s evident surprise, she leaned close to kiss him full and thoroughly on the mouth, the fire inside burning hotter still, and spreading.

 

 

 

 

 

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