I felt the turn coming, the request for a pardon or an eased sentence. I nodded.
“I request that I be executed by my king.” He lifted his chin. “For my unwavering service.”
Imogen must have seen my body tighten. Her voice was a tense admonition. “Theo—”
I cut her off with the shake of my head. From a young age, Eftan had taught me how to hold duty in my fist and wield it like a honed, flashing blade. I wouldn’t stop now.
The captain’s face was somber as she offered me the sword from her belt. The weapon was heavy enough to do the job. I recalled the feeling of heaving a sword for an execution readily enough. The force needed. The focus, the aim.
It was what all rulers were taught to do: offer a noble death. A quick and clean one. I’d trained since I was a boy of nine in the yard with Lachlan and other soldiers of the guard. The only time I’d had to carry out an execution was in my first year as king. He’d been a young soldier, about the same age as I’d been. He’d gotten so drunk that he’d brawled his barrack mate to death in the night, and it had been Eftan who had counseled me toward execution. A swift, severe punishment would keep the guard in line. I’d swung true then. I’d not slept for a week afterward and drunk more wine than the man I’d killed had.
I adjusted my slick hold on the hilt, and a smug sort of satisfaction crumpled Eftan’s chin.
“Kneel.”
“Your Majesty.” My attention snapped to Imogen. Seawater still ran down her body, pooling at her feet. Her narrowed eyes were like bits of gold. “A piece of you will regret it.” She swallowed uncomfortably—everyone watched her, rapt. “For the rest of your life, I expect.”
She did not offer direction, but knowledge. I saw in her face what she did not say—that her father’s death would stay with her. Her mother’s too. Every necessary, complicated decision would leave its mark, and I had to decide if I wished to bear it.
Eftan watched me acutely.
I lifted the sword and scraped my thumb across its keen edge. Then I lowered it. “From this day forth, Eftan Zervas of Varya will live a proscribed criminal to the realm.” I paused to watch the way his eyes changed, the way his shoulders slumped. “It will be known that he valued domination over service. That he employed every malicious tactic that he could to maintain his role, and he will pay for his misdeeds for the rest of his life on the island prison of Mav Petra, off the coast of Seraf.” I met Imogen’s gaze. “If their queen will have him.”
Her lips parted as she exhaled. Then she dipped her chin in agreement.
Eftan had gone bloodless. He leaned heavily against one of the guards, who fought to hold him up. “Your Majesty—”
He had already left a mark on me. Despite how I loathed the thought, hehadshaped me, and I would spend my life working to scrub away the imprints he’d left behind. That burden was already too much. I wouldn’t add his execution atop it.
“You don’t deserve a death by my hand, Eftan.” I nodded to the soldiers who held him. “Lock him in the brig.”
Captain Doxa took back her sword. “Eusia was not here,” I said. “The empress collected her and left Agatha in her place. She’ll have taken her home—to Obelia. We’ll be following, by way of Della, so that we can restock, if that suits you, Captain.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
I needed to move. “Aleka, please see that Princess Halla is made comfortable in her cabin. Make sure guards are outside her door at all times. She is not permitted to enter my stateroom.”
The captain boomed her orders. Markis followed after Eftan to see that he was secured in the brig. Aleka and a set of guards escorted Halla across the deck to her quarters.
Then once I’d done all that was required of me, I guided Imogen, Agatha, and Lachlan into my stateroom and locked the Godsdamned door.
23
Imogen
Theodore moved about the stateroom with such resolve that he seemed almost wild.
He was skilled as ever at hiding his emotions, but they’d grown too violent, too thrashing for anyone to deny that they existed now. They were a beast and he a cage, and while he could contain them, he couldn’t stop them from rattling the bars, fighting to be freed.
We settled Agatha upon his bed as Theodore made for the cabinet in the gilded wall and pulled out glasses and wine. He set them atop the table, then darted for the door.
“Send food,” he bellowed across the deck, “and hot water for washing.” Then he slammed and locked the door once more.
Lachlan took a shirt from the armoire and, within the privacy of the curtained bed, helped Agatha from the filthy ritual robe she still wore. He threw it with a splat to the ground. I was tempted to shred it, light it aflame, cast it into the sea. But instead, I went to an aft window, wrung out the last of the water from the flimsy fabric, and folded it neatly. To be kept as proof.
In silence, Theodore uncorked and poured the wine. The resoundingclinkof the lifting anchor filled the quiet, and the ship began a gentle sway. When Theodore finally lowered himself to the settee, cup of wine in hand, I nearly went to him. I wanted to smooth the buckle in his brow with a kiss and wrap my arms around his neck, but I knew some space would do him good.
I’d seen the look on his face and the adamant way he’d gripped that sword. He’d nearly executed Eftan, at least in part, for me.
