But because he wanted to rule.
So Keris lifted his glass and joined the voices of his people as they screamed for Ithicana’s liberty. For Maridrina’s liberty. “Death to the king!”
The spy’s face drained of color. “Your father will hear of this.”
“I certainly hope so.” Keris leaned closer to the man. “He needs to answer for crossing his people. And for crossing me.”
Vaguely, he realized that his voice sounded like his father’s. Cold and threatening and cruel. But with the heat of wine and anger and grief firing through him, Keris didn’t care. The spy blanched, seeming to finally understand that what sat next to him was no sheep, but a wolf.
The spy tried to rise. “Your Highness—”
Keris shoved him back onto his stool, then raised his voice, loud enough to be heard over the noise. “This is one of the Magpie’s spies!”
The men and women near him went silent, their eyes fixing on the spy, whose face went pale.
If you truly believe in something, you should be willing to suffer for it. To die for it.
To kill for it.
“I bet he’s here spying on us and plans to scuttle back to his master,” Keris shouted. “And you all know how Silas Veliant punishes dissent.”
Tension rose, the room growing silent as word spread.
“That true? You one of the Magpie’s creatures?” his bearded gambling companion finally demanded.
If the spy had held his ground and denied it, he might have lived. But the man’s nerve failed him, and he bolted to the exit.
Everyone in the bar surged, several moving to block the door.
“Spying on us, are you?” the bearded man said, driving the spy backward into the bar. “And just what are you planning to tell your master?”
“Nothing,” he sniveled. “I won’t tell him anything. You have my word!”
Keris smiled, for that was about the worst thing the spy could’ve said to these people.
“Your word?” the bearded man demanded. “Your word is worth less than the rag I wipe my ass with.” The crowd laughed, their starved eyes merciless. For the Magpie’s reputation was no secret to them. “You serve a sadist. You find him people to cut up for his own entertainment. Might be time for you to have a taste of what that feels like.”
“You can’t hurt me! There will be consequences!” He twisted around, and his eyes met Keris’s. “Highness, please! Keris!”
Keris tensed at the use of his name, waiting for the mob to turn their ire on him, but the bearded man only laughed. “I thought your pretty face looked familiar. Should have known it was you, given you’re the only man in the goddamned city with the balls to defy him.”
Shock radiated through him. That… that wasn’t what the people thought of him. They thought he was a weakling and a coward. The worst excuse for a prince to bear the Veliant name. Time and again, Keris had been told as much. Yet there were others in the crowd nodding, watching him not with disgust but with… with respect.
And he refused to disappoint them.
“Defiance is no longer enough.” Keris met their gazes. “Maridrina needs to be led by someone like-minded to its people. By someone who respects the people, not someone who sets Serin upon them for speaking their thoughts.”
The crowd shouted their agreement, calling again for the death of his father. For the death of Serin. For the death of the spy standing before them.
The crotch of the man’s trousers turned damp, a puddle of fear pooling around his boots. “I don’t serve Serin! I serve whoever wears the crown! I could serve you!”
“You’ll never serve me,” Keris answered, then gave a nod.
Like unleashed hounds, the mob descended with fists and feet. So many of them that Keris swiftly lost sight of the spy, though he heard his screams. Heard his pleas.
Heard his silence.
Keris waited long enough to ensure the spy was well and truly dead; then, with the shouts of his people ringing in his ears, he stepped out into the night.
56
KERIS
“Keris, wake up!”
He jerked upright with a start, nearly falling off the side of his bed.
“Keris!”
It was Coralyn. Even muffled by stone and heavy wood, he recognized his aunt’s imperious tone. Rubbing at his eyes, Keris pulled on the pair of trousers he’d left discarded on the floor and then padded barefoot across the room, fastening his belt as he went. Unbolting the door, he swung it open. “Good morning—”
“It’s early afternoon, you lazy creature. You keep the hours of a prostitute.”
Since Otis’s death, his nights had been spent in the city, stirring up dissent against his father, his days trying to find a way to get Aren alone, though he’d had no luck with the latter. And when he did sleep, it was only to be jerked awake by the sickening thud of his brother’s body hitting the ground. He was exhausted beyond reason, but Keris didn’t want her knowing why. “There’s a reason I keep their hours; it makes it easier to—”
She leveled a finger at him, silencing the rest of his quip. “Don’t even go there, young man. Knowing of your habits is enough. I don’t need the details.”
Given the only woman to grace his thoughts was Valcotta, Coralyn knowing details was most definitely to be avoided. “What is it that I can help you with?”
“I need an escort.”
He glanced at the window, rain pelting against the glass and the howling wind clearly audible. “Why? You’re allowed to go where you will. And you know how I dislike getting wet.” A lie, the truth being that he didn’t want to be subjected to her interrogation about what had happened with Otis. While he might have convinced Serin of his ruthlessness, Coralyn wouldn’t be so easily fooled.
She snorted. “As though I care about your preferences. Get dressed. Clearly you need time away from these rooms so that the servants might have a chance to clean up.” She wrinkled her nose. “Be quick about it.”
Knowing his aunt despised waiting on anyone, Keris forwent a shave and settled on a swift wash, realizing she might have had a point about the servants when he examined the limited contents of his wardrobe. Donning something more subdued than he was known for wearing, he stepped out of his chambers and made his way down the steps, finding his aunt waiting on the second level.
“Sara is leaving today,” she said. “Your father can’t be bothered to take her, and her mother hasn’t the fortitude for it, so it will have to be you and me.”
Sighing, he nodded and offered her his arm, a pair of servants holding canopies over their head against the rain as they stepped out of the tower doors. His eyes immediately went to the spot where Otis had landed, a wave of dizziness passing over him as he walked over it.
Thud.
He took a steadying breath, but each blink of his eyes revealed his brother’s body, blood pooling around it, Otis’s eyes full of betrayal.