Tyrant's Throne (Greatcoats #4)

‘For what?’

It was such a simple question, but the answer was far too small to encompass the magnitude of what he’d done for me. Kest had been there for me since we were children. He’d given up everything to stay by my side – and now, having traded every other happiness for what little my friendship had provided in return, he was about to lose that too.

Before I could answer, we were interrupted by the sounds of two sets of footsteps coming towards us, and a moment later, Dezerick appeared, escorting Valiana.

It occurred to me that I’d had entirely too many visitors in one night for a prisoner, so I asked, just to be sure, ‘Kest, is there an annoyingly well-groomed guard standing there with my daughter?’

He glanced at them. ‘It appears so.’

‘All right then.’ I let go of his arm. ‘I guess you’d better go.’

Valiana waited until after he’d left before gesturing to Dezerick.

He looked uncomfortable. ‘Realm’s Protector—’

‘Do it.’

He brought out his key and unlocked the door.

‘Valiana, whatever it is you think you’re doing—’

She cut me off. ‘Filian knows I’m here, and what I’m doing. Duke Jillard has asked to see you and the heir to the throne has given his consent.’

It made sense that he might not want to alienate the most powerful Duke in the country before he’d even been crowned, but I was sick and tired of political games and machinations. I went back to my cot. ‘Tell his Grace that I’m rather busy at the moment. Perhaps we could arrange a later meeting, sometime after the coronation ceremony.’

‘It has to be now.’

I sighed. ‘Fine. He can come down here then.’

She hesitated for a moment, then said softly, ‘Jillard is dying.’





CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX


The Duke of Rijou


The body is a strange thing. After all, what is the human vessel but an inelegant accumulation of blood and bone, skin and sinew? As a child, long before I learned that it was we who had shaped the Gods and not the other way around, I thought they must have marvelled at their strange creations: these ungainly amalgamations that somehow walked and talked and thought and loved. From nothing we become men and women who write poems and wage wars and conceive of futures both wondrous and terrifying.

When I’d taken up fencing, I came to see the human body differently: as a machine, with levers and gears: a clockwork contraption that could be carefully tuned and oiled to peak efficiency, its purpose to point and swing a blade smoothly and swiftly, to disassemble other machines within the circular confines of a duelling court. Eventually the day comes when the gears turn a fraction too slowly, when the lever sticks at the wrong moment and the contraption itself is dismantled.

‘He’s in here,’ Valiana said, motioning to the half-open door through which I could hear the strains of a guitar. Vibrations became sounds that turned into notes as a melody formed, then into a song I recognised: a lullaby, of all things, a favourite of mine as a child.

I laughed. After all this time, Jillard and I had found something in common.

Valiana’s fingers touched my arm and she looked into my eyes, as if measuring how far into madness I had already descended, how much further I might go.

I pushed the door aside and entered the infirmary. Nehra was perched on a wooden chair; it had lost one of its legs and she was keeping herself balanced with her feet while she played that much-travelled guitar of hers. Jillard, Duke of Rijou, lay in a bed, all the regal bearing of his person, the splendid clothes, the carefully coiffed and oiled hair, the fine features of his face, rendered absurd by the ashen colour of his skin. All that he was, all he had done, all he had aspired to, was grinding to a halt.

His eyes found mine as I approached him.

‘Did you kill them?’ he asked.

‘Them’ is rather non-specific when one is speaking of death, but I knew exactly who he meant. In this case, ‘them’ meant all of them: Trin, Filian, Ossia, her soldiers – not to mention the retainers who might have assisted in the plan, minor nobles who might have been consulted, contingencies in case of later complications, innocents who had nonetheless failed to prevent what had taken place.

‘Them’ meant everyone who had contributed to Aline’s death.

‘Not yet,’ I replied.

A long, slow breath slipped from between his lips and his eyes closed. I thought perhaps he had died, but he had only sighed. ‘That’s a shame.’

Nehra’s playing changed, the notes becoming harder, more precise. I no longer recognised the melody, but I understood the song’s purpose. She had been giving him what ease her music could provide to gentle his body and keep him alive as long as possible. Now she was telling us time was growing short.

‘I’m sorry I can’t shake your hand, Falcio,’ he said. He pulled his arm from under the blanket. The hand and forearm had been removed.

‘What happened?’

His lips pursed slightly – it wasn’t an expression I’d seen on him before. Then I understood he’d tried to shrug, but his shoulders hadn’t responded. ‘The Duchess planned her attack to perfection. There was a disturbance outside the castle, half the guards left to investigate and by the time we recognised the remaining men were all hers, it was too late.’ He sighed. ‘Ossia would have made a fine General, I think.’

‘I don’t remember you being hit, your Grace. You’d think I’d have noticed a Duke’s arm falling to the floor.’

He didn’t laugh, but one corner of his mouth rose a little. ‘My own fault, I’m afraid. I assumed Ossia was planning to move against Aline, so I thought I could win myself favour with our new King by killing her myself – after all, why be a bystander to history when you can get your name in the books?’ He gave a little chuckle this time. ‘Never made such a bad bet in my entire life.’

‘You’re lying.’ The truth, for once, was written plainly in his eyes. ‘You tried to save Aline.’

‘He reached for the blade as it was coming for her,’ Valiana said softly. ‘The doctor hoped that by removing the limb, the poison could be stopped in time.’

The sallow skin and pallor made it clear the doctor had been wrong.

Jillard opened his mouth to speak again and I waited for one of his usual acerbic remarks to emerge. I think he expected one too, but instead, tears formed in his eyes and he whispered, ‘I thought Tommer was there.’

‘In the throne room?’