Marith inclined his head very slightly. ‘Lord Relast.’
‘You will sit?’ Deneth Relast indicated chairs, poured cups of heavy-scented wine. Seabirds screamed outside the window: the fishing ships must be coming in, in Toreth Harbour. In the corner of the room, a little figurine of Amrath squatted on a shelf, a candle burning next to it. The motion of the door closing made the flame dance and the figurine itself seemed to move.
Curious thing, to worship one’s own kin. Marith nodded at it.
‘Landra said that you were alive,’ Deneth Relast began crisply, without formality. ‘I did not believe her, at first—’
And Landra had accused him of lying! ‘Of course you knew I was alive. You wouldn’t believe a word my father told you, without proof.’ He felt utterly confident and powerful, suddenly, sitting here talking with this man whose son he had loved and killed. Twist the knife. Harder. In my heart, and yours. ‘My father didn’t care about Carin. Not enough to stain himself so far as to actually kill me. Neither did you, in the end. Punished him for it, but not that far. You were angry at the time, but now … You and he have both probably been getting word of me since I left the Whites.’
Deneth lowered his eyes. ‘Indeed. My wife and children needed to believe it, though. Landra in particular is na?ve. Almost as na?ve as my son was.’
Don’t speak about him! Don’t mention his name! Nobody can mention his name but me. The little Amrath figurine moved as the candle flickered. Thalia tensed, sensing it. Deneth shifted in his seat, but ploughed on.
‘Tiothlyn is heir now, of course,’ he said slowly. ‘Seems … capable, if unimaginative and inclined to the coarse.’
‘Don’t speak about Ti.’
‘Tiothlyn is the only reason you are still alive,’ Deneth said sharply. ‘Rather than nameless and faceless and dead on a spike, as you should be.’
Guessed right, then. ‘Shouldn’t have demanded my head yourself, then, should you?’
A silence, the candlelight flickering. The ghost of a boy with fair hair. Marith could almost feel him, hands cool on his forehead, warm on his shoulder. Side by side, their heads touching, fingers entwined.
Deneth glanced at Thalia. ‘And what would you have done in my place, My Lord Prince? Forgiven? Laughed it away?’
‘You put him up to it! You made him do it! He hurt me first! It wasn’t My fault!’ So weak and petulant, his voice sounded. Marith drained his cup, his hands shaking. ‘What did you think would happen? Father’s wanted Ti to take my place for years. Must have thanked you for finally getting rid of me for him. You walked into that one, didn’t you? All your plans for me fall through and Carin’s dead and you’re so angry, and then the anger wears off and you realize Ti and the queen and her family are all smiling and you’ve lost everything and made it worse. Gods, they must have laughed at you.’
Deneth blinked. His face was white. ‘Your father—’ Shrugged. ‘This is not a good time, I think, My Lord Prince. Let us go and eat. We can talk again afterwards, when we are refreshed.’
Dinner was served in a small dining room instead of the Great Hall. Not a formal banquet, just Deneth and his wife Jora and Landra and little Savane, and Aris at the far end. Marith was seated at Deneth’s right hand, the place of honour. Almost like old times. Landra sat across from him, her face hard as stone. She looked so much like Carin. He could see all their eyes watching him. Shocked and hating. Pressure on his back, scrabbling at his skull. Gods only knew what they saw, when they looked at him. Make it stop, he thought. Make it go away. Make everything go away. I’d tell you I was sorry, but you wouldn’t believe me anyway.
Servants served little pies of pickled fish, crusted with honey and salt. Sharp and sweet and elegant, half disgusting, half perfect. Apples, still fresh from the orchards, the last of the year, their skin mottled with stars. If you cut one the right way you made a star pattern. Venison, burnt black without, bloody raw within. Thalia ate with a look of astonishment on her face. Loathed the food. Loathed the place. Probably loathed him, after what he’d done to her. But I love you, Thalia, he thought. Please love me. Hippocras to drink, green and heavy, stinging his tongue. Kind of Deneth, to remember his liking for it. He drank it and it was bright and sweet. His head was getting heavy. I’m so tired, he thought. Help me, Carin. Help me. Make everything go away. Landra was glaring at him. She hates me. She’s always hated me. He raised his glass to her, green liquid slopping over his shaking hand. ‘Old times, Landra. Don’t tell me you haven’t missed the sight of me vomiting onto my plate.’ His voice sounded distant. Hippocras, green and heavy, stinging his tongue.
At the end of the meal, Deneth rose and gestured to him to follow. Thalia stared at him helpless as he staggered to his feet, collapsed, tried again and finally stumbled out.
Woke the next morning with a groan, his head pounding. Seemed at least to have made it back to his own bed. Thalia stood at the window, looking out towards the sea. She turned as she heard him stir. Marith looked down at himself, still dressed in rumpled finery, and smiled ruefully at her.
‘I really should mend my ways and stop waking up in bed with something like you fully dressed and horribly hung-over. You’re too forgiving, lovely thing. You could have at least helped me take my boots off, though. So, I take it I signed my kingdom away last night. What did I offer him, the blood of my first-born and all five fingers of my right hand?’ He saw her horrified expression and laughed. ‘I’m joking, lovely girl.’ Considered a moment. ‘Half joking anyway. I admit, I was possibly in a weaker negotiating position than was entirely wise. But it’s no more than I was expecting. Less, perhaps. I don’t think he actually wants me to kneel in the mud and publicly beg his forgiveness. It’s nothing I wouldn’t have gone into sober: the fact he felt the need to indulge me was simply an added good. It all went off rather well, in fact, given I’m not entirely sure I was capable of intelligible speech by the end of it.’
Thalia turned back to the window, staring out at the sky and the sea. She looked so fragile, so lost here. So afraid. There’s nothing to be afraid of, he thought. Can’t you see? Everything will be fine now. It’s done and can’t be avoided and I’m almost glad of it.
She said, ‘You can’t mean to trust him. You can’t.’
‘Trust him? Of course I don’t trust him. He doesn’t exactly trust me, either. But I need his support, and he wants what he’s always wanted. Thinks I’ll give it to him. And so we are allies.’
‘Allies?’ She looked puzzled. Ah, gods, she was so innocent still.