A Queen of Thieves & Chaos (Fate & Flame, #3)

“I will deny everything.” She lifts an eyebrow as if to challenge me.

I sigh. So this is the game we’re playing. “We both know I could have thrown you in a dungeon cell for treason many times over. But have I ever used my power or position against you?”

“Much is changing and quickly. These are desperate times.”

“You are right. I am desperate. Islor is falling apart all around us because of Ybaris’s treachery. I cannot allow them to tear us apart from within too. So give me something to work with, Bexley, please. Do I need to kneel before you? Should I beg?”

She hesitates, then draws on her pipe. It takes everything in me to keep my patience while she studies the ceiling, weighing her urge to hold her power over her willingness to help a friend. “Ybaris’s deceit has raised the stakes, yes, but Islor was doomed the moment two kings across borders exchanged letters, daring to seek an alliance. There are those who no longer feel Islor’s ruling family knows what’s best for Islor’s people, no matter which of you sits on the throne.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Those same people aim to redraw lines and allegiances, and they grow restless.”

“Redraw the lines of Islor?” I curse, though I’m not shocked. As Kettling’s lord has grown more powerful and bold, so have the leaders of other cities. “Adley leads this?”

“Adley plays both hands, but I would imagine he leans toward the one where his daughter sits on Cirilea’s throne and he sits on Kettling’s.”

Her claim feels like a slap. “Are you saying he sits at my dining table and yet means to declare himself king of the east?” That is far bolder than I expected, even from him.

“These slippery eels never stick to only one path to reach their means, you should know that,” she chastises.

“How does he plan to do this? The eastern army is camped outside my gate.” That was part of the deal in this union. Cirilea needs the protection.

“Half their army.”

“And the other half is scouring their lands for this poison.”

“Is that what they are doing?” Bexley smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “To me it looks like they’re preparing to claim territory.”

My nostrils flare. “Are you telling me there is an army gathering at the Sanguine?” The river has always lent itself well as a border between our side and the smaller, eastern arm of Islor that connects us with Kier. It is wide and tumultuous to cross, with only one bridge.

“West of the river, according to a source.”

“West. But that is in the Plains of Aminadav. They do not have enough men to claim that much land.”

“The Kierish army that moves toward them will change that.”

Her words are like a punch to my stomach. Adley has always been friendly with King Cheral, an ambitious mortal king with four wives and a hatred for Cirilea. What has Adley promised for that level of support?

Bexley is well connected, but how does she know this? I’ve heard nothing. “Who is this source of yours?”

“I cannot tell you that, but I can promise they are reliable, and they have seen it with their own eyes.”

“Impossible.” My anger flares. “I need a name.”

“I don’t have one to give you.” Abruptly, she stands and steps out of the tub, the water sluicing off her body and onto the hardwood floor as she makes a slow point of drying herself off with her towel in front of me.

In the past, even our quarrels have ended in ripped clothes and gyrating bodies, but I didn’t come here for that and have no desire for that now. “Who can I trust?”

“No one. Well, perhaps those lurkers you’ve sent to tail the lords.”

I cannot believe the east is attempting this. And if Bexley’s source is accurate, they might succeed.

She tosses her towel to the floor, collects her pipe, and strolls over to lie on her bed. “You wanted to be king, Atticus. What did you expect would happen when you seized your brother’s crown? That everyone would simply bow in your presence? That all the growing tension would fade? That these cunning dignitaries”—she snorts derisively, as if the very title is an affront—“and their lofty ambitions for power would evaporate?”

“No, I’m not a fool. But I did not expect their scheming to be so blatant.”

“Even in the time of King Ailill, a far more intimidating ruler than you with his caster affinities, they plotted against him.” Her naked body relaxes within the silken bedding. She’s the picture of seduction—her creamy skin unmarred and flushed from her bath, her nipples pert. “It is the nature of holding such power. Why should anything change now?”

“I suppose you’re right.” I pause. “And I did not seek this role. I felt obliged to take it.”

“There comes a time when we are all bound by obligation.” She puffs on her pipe, her thoughts seemingly elsewhere. “What do you know of your brother and the Ybarisan princess?”

The letter tucked inside my leather vest feels heavy, the truth inside it even heavier. What would lords and ladies say if they knew that Romeria has claimed some secret kingdom within Islor’s lands? They’d declare me an even less effective ruler.

“The last I heard, they were hiding in the Venhorn Mountains.” Bexley’s knowledge is firmly rooted in the whispers of elven and mortals, not of nymphs and prophecy. I doubt she’d know anything of use. She can’t be trusted with that information, as much as she would love to wield it for her own benefit.

“Hmm … Yes, I’ve heard the same. Send up the girl at the desk on your way out.”

A dismissal if I’ve ever heard one. It is almost laughable, how I am king and yet with Bexley, she acts like the ruler. But there’s nothing more I’ll get from her at this point, anyway. I rise from my seat. “You should be careful. There is more poison circulating than we originally thought, and it is too easy to become a victim.” I know firsthand.

“Do not concern yourself with my safety. Focus on your own. Your city is overflowing with strangers from all over Islor ahead of this reckless wedding. Mortals are disappearing every day, into kennels and cages or running off into the wilds. Your lords conspire against you, and you do nothing but spy on them.” She draws a long drag. “You have already lost. You just haven’t realized it yet.”

“It is usually a pleasure. I cannot say the same this time.” My anger boils. If anyone could hear her speak to me like this, I’d be forced to punish her.

“What do you expect?” she snaps. “You’ve disturbed my peace and made me choose sides.”

“I didn’t make you do anything, Bexley. You just realized how much you love giving advice to a king.”

Her lips curl into a sneer. “If you want my advice, Your Highness … Do not become another king who wastes time playing games for allegiances you will never win. Give them a reason to fear you, or hand over your crown now.”