Kaltain started forward. “You scheming son of a harlot!”
“Restrain her, please,” the duke said, blandly, calmly—as if she were no more than a hysterical servant. As if she were nobody.
“I told you,” the duke said into the king’s ear, “that she’d do anything to get the Cro—” The words were lost as she was dragged away. There was nothing—no emotion at all—in the duke’s face. He had played her for a fool.
Kaltain struggled against the guards. “Your Majesty, please! His Grace told me that you—”
The duke merely looked away.
“I’ll kill you!” she screamed at Perrington. She turned to the king, beseechingly, but he, too, looked away, his face crumpled with distaste. He wouldn’t listen to anything she said, no matter what the truth was. Perrington had been planning this for too long. And she’d played right into his hands. He’d acted the besotted fool only to plunge a dagger into her back.
Kaltain kicked and thrashed against the guards’ grip, but the king’s table became smaller and smaller. As she reached the doors to the castle, the duke grinned at her, and her dreams shattered.
Chapter 51
The next morning, Dorian kept his chin high as his father stared at him. He didn’t lower his gaze, no matter how many silent seconds ticked by. After his father had allowed Cain to toy with and hurt Celaena for so long, when she’d clearly been drugged . . . It was a miracle Dorian hadn’t snapped yet, but he needed this audience with his father.
“Well?” asked the king at last.
“I wish to know what will happen to Chaol. For killing Cain.”
His father’s black eyes gleamed. “What do you think should happen to him?”
“Nothing,” said Dorian. “I think he killed him to defend Cel—to defend the assassin.”
“You think the life of an assassin is worth more than that of a soldier?”
Dorian’s sapphire gaze darkened. “No, but I believe there was no honor in stabbing her in the back after she’d won.” And if he ever found out that Perrington or his father had sanctioned it, or somehow played a hand in Kaltain drugging her . . . Dorian’s hands clenched into fists at his sides.
“Honor?” The King of Adarlan stroked his beard. “And would you have slain me if I tried to kill her in such a manner?”
“You’re my father,” he said carefully. “I would trust that the choice you made was correct.”
“What a cunning liar you are! Almost as good as Perrington.”
“So you won’t punish Chaol?”
“I see no reason why I should rid myself of a perfectly capable Captain of the Guard.”
Dorian sighed. “Thank you, Father.” The gratitude in his eyes was genuine.
“Is there anything else?” asked the king offhandedly.
“I—” Dorian glanced at the window, then back at his father, steeling his nerve once more. The second reason he’d come. “I want to know what you’re going to do with the assassin,” he said, and his father smiled in a way that made Dorian’s blood run cold.
“The assassin . . . ,” his father mused. “She was rather disgraceful at the duel; I don’t know if I can have a blubbering woman as my Champion, poison or no. If she’d been really good, she would have noticed the poison before she drank. Perhaps I should send her back to Endovier.”
Dorian’s temper flared with dizzying speed. “You’re wrong about her,” he began, but then shook his head. “You’ll not see her otherwise, no matter what I tell you.”
“Why should I see an assassin as anything but a monster? I brought her here to do my bidding, not to meddle in the life of my son and empire.”
Dorian bared his teeth. He’d never dared look at his father like this. It thrilled him, and as his father slowly sat down, Dorian wondered if the king was considering whether he had become a genuine concern. To Dorian’s surprise, he realized that he didn’t care. Perhaps the time had come for him to start questioning his father.
“She’s not a monster,” Dorian said. “Everything she’s done, she did to survive.”
“Survive? Is that the lie she told you? She could have done anything to survive, but she chose killing. She enjoyed killing. She has you at her beck and call, doesn’t she? Oh, how clever she is! What a politician she’d have made if she had been born a man!”
A deep-throated growl rippled from Dorian. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I have no attachment to her.”
But in that one sentence, Dorian made his mistake, and he knew that his father had found his new weak spot: the overwhelming terror that Celaena would be ripped from him. His hands slackened at his sides.