“King no longer, I’m told.”
One of her eyebrows rose, and he added, “I witnessed a portion of Serin’s performance with him in the gardens. There’s nothing I can do about it, if that’s what you’re suggesting. My father is more likely to listen to the harem’s complaints than mine.”
“I’m aware.” She sipped her tea. “Silas has forbidden any of us to speak to Aren, but you are under no such restrictions. There is information we hope he can provide us.”
He eyed her for a long moment. “About Lara, you mean?”
“Yes. And the rest of your sisters.”
Keris had been nine when his father had taken Lara and his half sisters away without any explanation. All the five-and six-year-old daughters stolen from the harem, their fates kept secret until last year when his father had arrived back in Vencia after a trip to the desert, and in his company, one of the missing girls.
Lara.
She’d immediately boarded a ship and sailed off to Ithicana, the bride destined to fulfill Maridrina’s half of the Fifteen Year Treaty between Ithicana, Maridrina, and Harendell. Upon his return from the nuptials at Southwatch Island, his father had explained that she and her other sisters had been kept in a secret compound in the Red Desert in order to protect them from Valcottan assassins. The others, he’d said, would continue to reside there until he’d found appropriate matches for them.
Lies, on every level, though the truth hadn’t been revealed until his father invaded Ithicana using a plan of Lara’s invention, his sister apparently having been trained by Serin himself as a spy. And a deadly one at that. “Lara’s either dead or a ghost on the wind. And my other sisters are still in their secret compound in—”
“If that’s where they are, then why is Serin hunting them?” Coralyn interrupted. “And why is he hunting Lara?”
Keris’s jaw tightened. Loose ends. His father hated leaving anyone alive who might cause him trouble in the future. But why did his father have cause to doubt the young women he’d turned into fundamentalists who blindly followed his orders, no matter the cost? “Don’t you think if Aren knew where Lara was that he’d gladly give her over?”
“He probably would, if he wasn’t in love with her.”
Keris huffed out a laugh. “Maybe he was once, but Lara stabbed him in the back. Betrayed him and Ithicana, costing him his throne, his liberty, and the lives of countless of his people.” As he blinked, Keris saw the light fading from Raina’s eyes. Lara had killed her as surely as if she’d wielded the blade herself. “He’d have to be a damned fool to still care for her.”
“I’m not unaware, Keris. Yet during that despicable scene in my gardens, Serin tricked Aren into believing the girl he was torturing was Lara. And he pleaded she be spared.”
More than pleaded.
The vision of Aren on his knees, shouting, Pull out the damn gates, filled Keris’s head, and he frowned. “If it is so, then he’s not going to give up Lara’s whereabouts to you, me, or anyone else. He has no reason to trust us.”
“Then find a way to give him one so that we might find out what he knows of the harem’s lost daughters,” Coralyn said. “That is the price of our hospitality for your Valcottan.”
If his father or Serin caught him meddling with the Ithicanian king, it wouldn’t go well for him, and as it was, Keris needed to focus on negotiating with the Empress. Needed to focus on getting Valcotta free. But he knew the harem was dangerous if crossed, and if he didn’t pay their price, it wouldn’t be long until a freak accident took Valcotta’s life. “Fine. But accomplishing this will be difficult. Maybe even impossible.”
Coralyn reached across the table and patted his cheek. “You’ve always been cleverer than the Magpie, Keris. I have every faith you’ll deliver.”
“I’m glad you do.” He rose to his feet. “Take care of my Valcottan.” And without waiting for a response, he exited the room.
He had a negotiation to begin.
40
ZARRAH
All the luxury in the world wouldn’t make up for the fact the room had bars on the window and a bolt on the door.
It was a prison.
And it wasn’t lost on Zarrah that it wasn’t a prison intended for individuals such as herself, but rather for wives of the King of Maridrina. Likely girls who were reticent about being wed to an aging monster who’d treat them like broodmares. The very thought of it made her sick, and she added them to the list of people who’d see vengeance when Silas fell to her blade.
A cold voice from behind her interrupted Zarrah’s thoughts. “Allow me to make myself very clear, Zarrah: this is my house. You will dress in the clothes I provide. Conduct yourself in a manner I find fitting. Speak only to those who speak to you first. And you will never lay so much as a finger on a single member of this household.”
Turning, Zarrah found the wife called Coralyn standing behind her, flanked by two guards. Perhaps in her mid-sixties, the woman was stately in her gown of amber brocade, her hair perfectly coifed, and the jewels on her fingers, wrists, ears, and throat worth enough to purchase one of the more costly homes in Vencia.
“If you cross me on any of these things, I’ll have you killed, and I don’t care what Silas or Keris has to say about it. Am I understood?”
A hundred quips rose in Zarrah’s thoughts, the foremost being I could kill you before those two fools moved, you old Maridrinian hag, but instead she gave the slightest of nods. If pandering to a harem wife was what it would take, then pander she would.
“Not only are you Valcottan and a member of the Valcottan royal family, but you are a soldier responsible for the death of at least one of our sons by your own hand. And indirectly the cause of the death of many more. You may anticipate courtesy from the women of my household, but do not expect kindness. Am I understood?”
“I understand and will abide.” Right up to the point she put a knife in Silas Veliant’s heart.
“Good.” Coralyn snapped her fingers, and servants moved into the room carrying a bath, several others on their heels. “Measure her for gowns. She’s a princess of sorts, so she is to be dressed accordingly. I’ve a reputation to uphold, and I won’t have her returning to Valcotta to spread rumors that the Veliant house is cheap.”
Then she approached, caught hold of Zarrah’s wrists, and untied the ropes.
“Lady Coralyn,” one of the guards said, his eyes widening with distress. “Are you certain this is advisable? She’s a killer.”
“So am I.” Coralyn looked up to meet Zarrah’s gaze. “And I can see in your eyes that you’ve a brain between your ears. You won’t cross me, will you, dear?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Lady Coralyn.”