He nods in acknowledgment.
His air of triumph goads me to say more. “If you’d wanted me dead, Captain Helias or Captain Neartos would have killed me already. So you want me for something else, some scheme, or simply the pleasure of a slow revenge for rescuing my mother and sisters from the tomb. Right out from under your nose.”
“Is this arrogant speech meant to soothe my natural instinct to flog a recalcitrant mule?” He enjoys the way I don’t back down, as long as he has the upper hand.
“No, my lord. I am simply telling the truth.”
Gargaron presses the knife’s tip against my lower lip. “The truth is that you belong to Garon Palace, not to yourself. Do you understand me, Jessamy?”
Hatred eats my voice.
He twists the knife’s tip against my tender lip until it draws blood.
“Yes, my lord.”
He turns away. “Neartos, bring her up on deck.”
That my queasiness arises from the noxious reek of the hold and the terrible presence of an innocent man stuffed into a barrel becomes clear as soon as I am on deck. The air and sun clear my aching head. Wind rumbles in the sails. We’re on a merchant ship with capacious holds.
Sailors stare as I make my way to the railing, testing my balance as the deck rolls and pitches. The coast of Efea lies to the ship’s right-hand side, the starboard, which means we are sailing west. The land is broken by small river channels cutting through to the sea and by long stretches of beach. We tack close enough to shore that I spot people at work amid fields and orchards. Fishing boats are drawn up on the sand. I need only wait for nightfall. I can swim to shore.
As I’m contemplating this delightful prospect, Gargaron opens a door to the leftmost cabin on the afterdeck.
“Jessamy!” he calls, summoning me.
How it galls me to have to obey. Teeth gritted, I follow Captain Neartos inside.
The cabin is painted in lively colors, its walls fitted with cupboards, a built-in desk, an inset bed, and a table with four chairs fixed to the floor. A man sits at the desk with his back to me, shoulders tense. If I didn’t know better, I would say the clerk has Polodos’s ears.
Then I see a young woman standing to one side.
“Maraya!”
Gargaron watches my horrified reaction with the thin smile that means he is gloating. “I imagine you have questions for me, Jessamy.”
Maraya gives a slight shake of the head, advising silence, but I know Gargaron better than she does. If I don’t respond, he’ll get angry. But I can deny him the satisfaction he craves by not betraying in tone or word the dismay that’s flooding through me.
“Am I allowed to ask questions, my lord? Or will that be counted as disobedience?”
“Say what you wish. I am curious to know which questions you will ask and which you will avoid.”
“I thought Captain Helias was loyal to my father.”
“Helias is a highborn man with extensive palace connections. Like many officers, he both admired and resented General Esladas’s success. And despised him for his… shall we say… base predilections in the matter of his family.”
I had no idea Captain Helias despised me, but I’m not about to let Gargaron know I mistook his politeness for approval.
“Nikonos almost killed you,” I say instead. “Why risk returning to Saryenia when it was still under his control?”
“I did not enter the city until I’d received word that Nikonos had left to pursue your father.”
“So you didn’t come to Saryenia to get me?”
“You? Of course not. Getting hold of you, and your sister, was serendipitous chance. As for Nikonos, battle is not the only way to secure a victory.”
“Yes, secret alliances also work well. The one you have with the High Priest, for instance.” By the surprised flare of Gargaron’s eyelids, I see that Kal and I guessed correctly. “That’s how you forced him to entomb my mother, by threatening to reveal what is really going on behind the closed gates of the Inkos temple—”
I break off as he grabs the whip.
Maraya throws her arms around me, like she means to take the blow herself.
Polodos jumps up. “My lord, it would be indecent to flog a pregnant woman!”
“Sit down!” commands Gargaron.
With breathtaking defiance, Polodos crosses to stand beside us. If this is the end, then at least we will go down together.
Neartos glances at Gargaron, but the lord shakes his head. Silence follows, and I realize Gargaron is waiting for me to speak. It takes all the courage I have to ask the next question.
“Does His Gracious Majesty know you were in the city?”
Gargaron still holds the whip aloft, but my question seems to distract him. “Of course he knows. He and I had already agreed on the strategy of sending Meno? and Princess Berenise ahead to Maldine while I secretly returned to Saryenia to negotiate with the High Priest. A good strategist keeps a plan in reserve.”
“Oh, I see. If Kalliarkos and my father had failed to retake the city, then the High Priest would have found a way to kill Nikonos at your order.”
“You must refer to him as Prince General Nikonos. But, yes, poisoned him. There is more than one path to the victory tower, as you certainly know, Spider.”
“Did His Gracious Majesty take Queen Serenissima to Eternity Temple at your order?” I grasp at this excuse, hoping to acquit Kal of responsibility, and yet I’m ashamed of myself even as I speak the words. “He thought it would be safe to hold her there. He didn’t know the truth about what the priests do to the women.” I desperately hope that Kal’s innocence in this, at least, is true.
He inclines his head in mocking agreement. “I kept him ignorant of such matters. As for Serenissima, I am sure she is already dead. As you would be, if I had not rescued you.”
Rescued me!
My cut lip stings, but not more than my heart. This is exactly what Kal was trying to prevent when he told me to leave the city immediately. But we walked blindly into that trap, and there’s no way back. I have to take all the memories and the kisses and the soft words, and I must pour them as into a ceramic vessel and seal it with wax. And then I have to figure out a way for my sister and her husband and me to escape.
“What will you do if the enemy overruns the city and kills His Gracious Majesty and my father?”
“The line remains intact through Meno?. It wasn’t my idea for my nephew to stay.” He waves a hand in the air in a parody of an actor’s kingly gesture. “He proclaimed he would share the fate of the people he is responsible for. He even quoted noble lines from a play.”
“He never told me any of these plans.”
“Why would he tell you, Jessamy? It isn’t as if you are going to become queen. Or perhaps Kalliarkos spoke to you about that possibility?”
My face burns. “You must know he did not.”
“Of course he did not. He would no more have made that offer to you than to an actual mule, as in the well-loved and always-popular comedy The Emperor’s Four-Legged Bride. Have you seen the play?”
The insult spikes me straight into a red haze of anger.