His voice trembled. “The man who slaughtered Loukas—my brother—was the captain of our guard. The Theucinians must have bribed him. Konto killed my father himself,” he said in a rough whisper. “Slit his throat, in our private quarters. That’s when I ran.” He shot me a look, eyes gleaming. “I suppose you’re going to call me a coward for that.”
I should’ve said I was sorry for his loss. It was the polite thing to do, but my anger at him stopped up my throat, preventing the words from coming out.
“My father the Emparch was not a fool,” he continued hoarsely. “He knew the people were restless. He was preparing for a revolution. So he called his own personal shadowman, Cleandros, and instructed him to enchant five crates. Once the lid was closed, the person inside would fall into a deep sleep.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because. You should know.”
I swallowed. He said that now. Now, when it meant nothing. After he’d lied and lied and lied some more.
“In case of an attack on the palace,” he went on, “each crate was to be shipped in a different direction. But—” His voice cracked. “He never expected the attack to come from someone in our own family. The only ones who ever made it to the boxes were me and—” He hesitated. “And my mother. She was supposed to be sent to Iantiporos, to prevail on the Margravina for—for asylum.”
“Amaryah,” I said out loud, remembering. “That’s who Lord Peregrine was talking about? Your mother?”
He sniffed. “He ought never to have spoken of her so familiarly.”
“Why in the name of the gods didn’t you tell him she’s alive?” I demanded. “Don’t you think that’s a detail he might’ve wanted to hear?” Turning my back on the Emparch of Akhaia, I strode down the deck.
I heard his boots behind me. “I don’t trust Antidoros Peregrine.”
Fee blinked her yellow eyes as we stepped into the cockpit. She bowed almost to the floor. “Excellency.”
“Stop that,” I told her, climbing through the hatch. He didn’t deserve that. He hadn’t earned it.
Tarquin—or Markos or whoever he was—followed me into the dimly lit cabin, ducking his head to avoid the ceiling. “Well? I just told you I’m the Emparch of an entire gods-damned country. Aren’t you going to say something?”
Raindrops formed a glistening mist on his black hair. I opened the locker and grabbed Pa’s oilskin jacket. “Here,” I said gruffly, throwing it at him.
He caught it. “You’re taking this very calmly.”
“No, I’m not.” My voice was flat. “I’m furious. I knew you were lying about being a courier, but this”—I swallowed over the painful lump in my throat—“this is too big a secret to keep from me. Did you even think about my life?” I demanded. “Or Fee’s? We deserved to know how much danger we were in. And it is a lot of danger.”
A line appeared between his eyebrows. “You knew I was lying?”
“A real courier would be street smart. Accustomed to rough travel.” I paused, hand on the locker door. “You acted … well, spoiled.”
“That’s what you really think of me?” he asked quietly.
I shrugged on my jacket. “ ‘Why’s everything so dirty?’ ” I mimicked. “ ‘Why are there so many flies in the riverlands? I’m bo-ored.’ ”
“All right, you’ve made your point,” he choked out, cheeks reddening. “Just … stop using that voice.”
I slammed the locker. “I never asked to be involved in this! The man who gave me that box lied to me. And then you lied to me.”
“My family has an estate in Casteria,” he said. “When we get there, I can pay you. Gold, silver, whatever you like. In compensation for the extra danger.”
I stared at him. “You really must be thick. We’re not going to Casteria.”
Markos straightened to his full height, his head bumping the ceiling. “Ow! Surely now that you know the truth about who I am, you can see it’s important.”
I only saw everything I cared about going up in flames. Taking him to Casteria would mean breaking my contract. Playing with my father’s life. And for what? For Akhaia? It wasn’t even my country. For him? He’d called my wherry a piece of junk, tried to kiss me without my leave, and to dig the knife even deeper, he’d deceived me.
“All I see is more secrets.” I shook my head. “More lies.”
We anchored in a swampy pond off the main river, lowering the mast to better conceal Cormorant from searching eyes. From the look of the sky, the weather was going to get worse before it got better. In the dark, Fee and I draped the waxed awning over the sail to protect it from the rain.
Markos hovered to one side of the mast.
“Me and Fee can do it by ourselves.” I elbowed him out of the way. “Wouldn’t want you to get your hands dirty, Your Lordship.”
“That’s actually not how you address an Emparch,” he said.
I ignored him until he gave up and wandered off. Fee adjusted the awning, shooting me a disapproving glance.
“What?” I jerked the ties down harder than necessary. “I expected you at least to be on my side.”
“No sides.” She nodded at Markos’s back. He stood alone, hands in pockets, watching the rain patter on the pond. “Sad,” she said softly.
“If he wanted me to feel bad for him,” I snapped, “he should’ve told me the truth.”
Pulling up the hood of my oilskin coat, I made my way to the stern. Lord Peregrine had said the Black Dogs were somewhere between us and the bridge. Victorianos was scouring the riverlands for Cormorant, but we knew almost nothing about her. I didn’t even know what Diric Melanos looked like or how big a crew he had. Perhaps in a dinghy identical to the hundreds of other dinghies in these parts, I could get close enough to find something out. At the very least, I’d know where they were moored.
Light rain fell around me, ringing the surface of the pond. A puddle was starting to gather in the keel of the dinghy. I untied the rope and clambered in, running out the oars.
The dinghy lurched, and I almost tumbled off the seat. Looking up, I saw the rope stretched taut.
Markos stood with a boot on the stern, eyebrows raised. In one hand he held a lantern and in the other, the rope. “Where do you think you’re going?”
I gripped the oars. “Scouting ahead.”
“Alone?” He wrapped the rope around his hand, preventing the boat from moving. “Have you any idea how dangerous—”
I glared at him. “I don’t need your help, Your Majesty.”
“Also wrong,” he muttered. The hood of the oilskin jacket revealed only his profile, but his jaw was stubbornly set. “I am trying to be a gentleman. Will you please just let me?”
“What use do I have for a gentleman?” I tapped the knife at my waist. “I can take care of myself.”
“Oh really?” He dropped into the boat, rocking it. “What are you going to do, start another bar fight?”
I clenched my hands around the oars. He was the very last person whose company I wanted, but I couldn’t kick him out. He was stronger than me. That part hadn’t been a lie.
“Douse that light,” I ordered, raising my voice over the creak of the oarlocks. The dinghy glided out of the pond and into the river.