“It was an accident.” His tongue was thick in his mouth. “I didn’t mean for him to fall.”
The corner of his father’s mouth twisted up. “I saw the state of your room when I came down. It was you or him, I’m sure, although I think it a shock to all that it’s you who is still breathing. I’m impressed.”
Keris’s stomach heaved, forcing him to clench his teeth and swallow vomit, the alternative to spew on his father’s boots.
“Get used to it, Keris,” his father said. “When you are heir, you are the target of all. You can expect no loyalty from your brothers, and all but the cowards will come for you at one point or another. If you live to inherit, they’ll come for your sons.” His smile grew. “It is the way of it, and it is also the reason you have no uncles still living. Do you understand me?”
How many had his father murdered, first to get the crown and then to keep it? How much blood was on his hands? The questions circled Keris’s head, but he only gave a tight nod. “I understand.”
“Good.” His father pushed past him, shouting, “Quit your wailing, women! The fool picked the fight and lost it, which means he deserves his fate.” Then to the servants, he ordered, “Clean up this mess and make the arrangements.”
Keris stood in silence, watching as the weeping women dispersed. As the guards lifted his brother’s body and took it away. As the servants mopped up the blood.
Then his skin abruptly prickled with a sixth sense that he was being watched, and Keris turned to find Serin standing in the shadows. “My condolences,” the spymaster said. “I know you and your brother were once close.”
Keris’s hands fisted, the need to rain violence down upon the man causing him to see red. Except while his father might forgive Otis’s death as part of the life of an heir, the murder of his most trusted advisor was an entirely different matter. “I didn’t mean for Otis to lose his life. Whereas I think your intentions for the encounter were far different, Magpie.”
“Your death would please me, it’s true.” Serin rubbed his chin. “But it would be foolish to make an attempt on your life while you are in your father’s good graces, and I am no fool, Highness. Far better to wait for your inevitable fall from favor that will come when these negotiations fail. And they’d fail far sooner if Zarrah Anaphora were to meet her tragic end. When Otis enquired which room was hers in the harem, then departed in such a rage, I thought he’d make my hopes reality by slaughtering the woman.”
Keris’s heart skittered, dread filling his stomach.
“Yet it wasn’t her room he went to, but yours. It wasn’t her life he attempted to take, but yours.” Serin smiled, revealing his discolored teeth. “One can’t help but wonder why.”
“He wanted me to kill her.” Keris met the man’s stare, letting him see the truth staring out. “Said it was a matter of loyalty.”
“Why did you refuse? Surely your brother is worth more to you than some Valcottan woman.”
Keris needed to be away from this conversation, from this line of questioning, because his nerves were too rattled to spar with this man. But walking away would be just as damning as saying the wrong thing. “As you said, Magpie, my longevity is dependent on remaining in my father’s graces, and to accede to Otis’s demands would turn those good graces to ash. I did what I had to.”
“Chose your plans, and your own life, over your loyalty to your dearest brother? Over his life? That seems a deviation in character, Your Highness. A darker side of you that I find quite shocking.”
“It is rich indeed for you to cast judgment on anyone’s principles, Magpie, for you are devoid of them.”
“No judgment, Highness. My shock comes only from learning that you are more like your sister than I’d ever imagined.”
Like Lara, who’d destroyed a nation and the man she ostensibly loved for the sake of her plans. “I am nothing like Lara. If I wish to stab a man, it will be in the chest, not the back.”
Serin smiled again, smoothing his robes. “And thus my point stands. Good night, Your Highness. I hope you find pursuits that bring you peace.” Without another word, the spymaster walked away.
54
ZARRAH
Heart in her throat, Zarrah hurried through the garden paths, then ducked into the shadows beneath her window, crouching low in the brush. She held her breath, waiting for any indication that the guards had realized she was not Lestara.
You left him.
Sickening guilt filled her core, making her want to double over as Keris’s face filled her mind’s eye. Shock. Horror. Grief. He’d loved his brother, and now Otis was dead. Not because he deserved such a fate, but because his grief over his wife had been manipulated by that monster of a spymaster.
Though Serin was not alone at fault. Otis’s wife was a casualty of the Endless War. But rather than comfort him, those around Otis had used his grief to fuel his hatred, for it was as keen a weapon as any sword. They didn’t want him to heal, didn’t want him to move past his grief and anger, because then he’d no longer be a pawn they could use to achieve their ends. He’d believed himself righteous—the master of his own destiny—never once seeing that he was a pawn in a war between rulers.
They’d been manipulated in the same way, she and Otis, their grief weaponized to fight a war where the only people who died were those who didn’t deserve to.
As she’d stared at his body, broken and bloody on the ground, the scream that had torn from her lips had not been feigned, the horror slicing through her soul visceral and cutting and cruel, for it wielded the truth.
A female shriek pierced the night, coming from the direction of the tower, jolting Zarrah into action.
She shoved the stone block into the deepest part of the brush, as there was no way for her to replace it, then swiftly scaled the wall. Again, her hips got stuck climbing through the opening, but with a dozen silent curses, she toppled into her room.
Which was exactly how she’d left it, no sign that her absence had been noted.
Though her body was exhausted and aching from the blows Otis had landed, Zarrah swiftly put the room back in order.
Only then did she go to the window.
Topiaries blocked her view of the base of the tower, but light spilled outward from the scene. She didn’t need to see it to imagine it, only prayed for Otis’s sake that his end had come swiftly. Prayed that Keris wasn’t holding himself to blame.
The former was far more likely than the latter.
Her adrenaline faded, leaving her weary and hollow, but Zarrah didn’t move from her place at the window. Through the walls, she heard the wailing of women, felt the pain and grief of a son lost falling over the palace like a pall. But eventually the light around the tower faded, servants and guards retreating until all was still. Silent.