He crawled to the edge and looked down at the crumpled body of the king. He’d landed in an inner courtyard, and no one seemed to have noticed yet. He would have thought his enemy’s death would be more satisfying, but all he felt was mingled grief and relief. Grief for those who had died too soon. And relief that perhaps this chapter was over.
Marina came up beside him, looked down, and shuddered. “Thank the Maker he’s dead,” she said, her voice trembling. “I was beginning to think he was immortal.”
“But . . . how did you—” Ash couldn’t seem to complete a coherent sentence.
“I’ve been his favorite target for years,” Marina said, fussing absently with the ties at the ends of her sleeves. “I kept thinking that someone would kill the loathsome bastard for me. If it happened soon enough, I might be named regent over Prince Jarat. I’m used to biding my time. But lately . . . lately the king had started in on Madeleine. I knew the time would come that I would no longer be able to protect her.
“So. A year ago, I decided to kill the king myself. It had to be in a way that would not be traced back to me.” She smiled crookedly at Ash. “I’m a Tomlin. You’d think I’d be good at this sort of thing, but it turned out to be harder than I’d thought. The snake seemed perfect, but—” She shrugged. “I’m truly sorry about Estelle. I didn’t mean for her to be the one to pay for it.”
Ash remembered what he’d said when he and Lila had discussed it, when she’d tried to blame it on him. Either this would-be killer is an amateur, or someone wants to put the king on his guard.
“What about the wassail? Was that yours, too?”
She nodded, shrugging.
“But—why did you drink it, if you knew that it was poisoned?”
“That was a low point,” she said, wincing. “I was beginning to think I’d never be rid of him. When I saw that the king wasn’t going to drink it, I decided to drink it myself. If I survived, it would direct suspicion away from me. If I died, I wouldn’t have to live with that bastard pretender any longer. You are too skilled a healer, I’m afraid.”
Ash recalled what Montaigne had said just before the Feast of Saint Malthus. You stupid slut of Tamron.
“What happens now? Do you think they’ll suspect you?”
She shook her head. “It’s unlikely. Everyone in Arden thinks of me as the king’s doormat. Plus, the king has been growing more and more erratic these past weeks. After the attack, he seemed clearly unhinged—I’ve never seen him like that. No one will be surprised that he took his own life.”
“That may have been the effect of the living silver,” Ash said.
Marina frowned. “What do you mean?”
“That was supposedly a gift from the empress,” Ash said. “I slipped it in with the diamonds she sent to the king. It’s a mercury compound that comes from some of our hot springs up north. When heated, it releases a deadly vapor. I told him it was white magic, that it could be used to keep away demons if he burned it all night. If it didn’t kill him, I hoped that it would make him sick enough that he would come seeking treatment from me.”
Marina laughed. “How many assassins does it take to kill a king?”
“And so, your son will come to the throne?”
She bit her lip. “He will. I only hope that he’ll accept some guidance from me.” She gestured toward the stairwell. “I think you’d better be on your way. They’ll be up here before long to find out what happened. Give my greetings to your mother the queen. Tell her I’ll never forget the way she looked at her name day party—so beautiful and strong and confident. She has always been something of a role model for me.”
Ash had been making for the stairwell, but now he turned back toward her. “You know who I am.” He was all but numb to surprises by now.
Marina smiled. “I’ve known since Solstice. Despite opinions to the contrary, I am not stupid.”
43
PARTING OF THE WAYS
In the days following the attack on the palace, Ash barely slept. He scoured the city for any sign of Jenna, alive or dead. He questioned people who had collected souvenirs in the streets—chunks of stone and roof tiles, along with other bits of debris. Some had been wakened from their beds when the dragon smashed into the upper floors of the palace—twice.
Not long after, some saw it careening away from the castle close, flying east, toward the sea. Rumors flew—that the dragon had incinerated entire villages along the way; that an army of dragons was assembling in the mountains north of Delphi; that the witch queen had been seen driving a carriage pulled by dragons through the sky; that dragons had attacked ships at the wharf and destroyed one of them.
The official story—that the damage had been caused by a bomb planted by Fellsian operatives—gained little traction.
Destin Karn was put in charge of an investigation into the king’s death, which wrapped up quickly. He found no evidence of foul play. The official verdict: a tragic accident while the king was assessing damage to the palace. The unofficial cause of death: suicide. Ash tried to meet with Karn several times, but Karn seemed to be avoiding him.