“What, no questions, Miss Vednis?” Ulder prompted when Lory didn’t react at all, her expression as empty as Khayrivven’s. “That means you know exactly what role you play in this realm. I assume the captain informed you?”
Still no response. Not even a blink.
Khayrivven was still debating whether to be proud of his little Flame or to get ready to fight their way out of the palace. At least, Ulder had brought only four guards into the room, all of whom had magical abilities, Khayrivven was certain. Ulder would never enter a room with two known fire wielders without adequate protection.
When Lory still didn’t speak, Ulder folded his hands on the edge of the desk, a smirk forming on his lined features. “As I said earlier, we have urgent business to discuss, Khayrivven.”
Naturally, now that the world couldn’t listen, Ulder skipped all formalities, reminding Khayrivven of his place beneath the king’s boots.
“Give me a full report.” Ulder’s prompt had become as familiar as the sense of betrayal whenever Khayrivven followed protocol and gave all details to the man who reigned with terror over his people. He’d given that sort of report countless times—to Ulder, to the Triad.
“Five attacks in and around Dunai in the past ten days, but you’ve already heard that from the Triad, my king.”
“Magic wielders?” Ulder prompted.
“We assume it was magic wielders. The explosions were strong and targeted. Without magic, the rebels would need large amounts of explosives, which they can’t afford.”
“And you are so sure they can’t afford it, why?”
Khayrivven swallowed the just-as-familiar fear, forcing his voice to remain level. “Because I’ve been tracking the rebels’ movements for the Triad for years. The rebels don’t have the financial backing. Their focus is on the AmrinMountains, holding their position there, controlling supply routes. They don’t have the numbers or the resources to do it.”
“Unless it’s rebel magic wielders.”
Ulder had a point. There were more rebel magic wielders than the king would have liked to hear. “That’s always a possibility,” he said instead of the many other things he wanted to say. “One we can’t exclude until thorough investigations have been conducted.”
A simple nod from Ulder, his shoulders relaxed as he leaned back in his chair. “Did you know Khayrivven has been spying on his own people for years? He has interrogated and tortured for me, has killed for me, and he will do much worse for me without question.” Ulder’s eyes snapped to Lory. “That’s the sort of loyalty kings dream of. That’s why I chose Khayrivven to lead my Ebon Division.”
Raising a brow, Ulder read Lory’s beautiful face with too much eagerness for Khayrivven’s taste, and Khayrivven waited for the moment she’d see him for the coward he was. He’d put his sister before Criulias. He’d put one person before an entire people.
But Lory had lived through worse than one man’s scrutiny, and as she pulled her lips into a saccharine smile, her reaction proved it. “The loyalty that will outlast entire realms, my king.” She dropped into a low curtsy, drawing her hand from Khayrivven’s grasp as she gathered her skirts just enough so they didn’t touch the floor, one hand close enough to her pocket to access the knife he’d slid into the hidden compartment with a prayer to Eroth, the God of Death that he not call her to him that night, while guilt and self-loathing forwhat he’d put her through—and what he’d yet to demand of her—warred inside his chest.
Ulder merely grinned, turning his attention back on Khayrivven. “You certainly have more information for me than what the Triad has already reported, Khayrivven. Show me how deep that loyalty runs. Find out who initiated the attacks. Give me a name.”
Khayrivven could sense the tension in Lory without a glance. It mirrored his own, despite the almost two decades of practicing to appear unbothered in the face of someone demanding he sell out his own people.
He had plenty of names he could have given the king. All the people he’d smuggled out of Ashthorn Ward—through the exit the king couldn’t see through his office window. The rebels hiding out in the city, and the men and women trusting him with their lives in villages scattered along the coast of Sen Dunai. He’d done it before. He’d bemoaned the loss of his people too many times as he’d kept convincing himself that, one day, he’d pay Criulias back by bringing them freedom. But first, he needed to get Elina out of the palace, and to achieve that, he needed to keep up the facade.
The anxiety over seeing his sister again had been plaguing him for years, the many times he’d hoped to catch a glimpse when he’d been summoned to the palace and been disappointed. And today—Elina was just down the hallway, seemingly oblivious to the true nature of her fate.
“I’d like to talk to Elina first.” He’d pondered whether to speak these words for just as long, always needing to balance his obedience with holding Ulder to his word.
A glance from Ulder at his guards was enough for them to step closer, spears pointing at Lory, not Khayrivven—of course. Another person Ulder could use against him stood right next to Khayrivven, and if any of them dared hurt Lory, he just might forget himself and burn this palace down with all the people inside.
Including Elina? No, he would never hurt his sister.
Grinding his teeth, Khayrivven lowered his head. “Please, my king,” he amended, listening for the breath Lory had been holding as she seemed to freeze like the splashes of water Bellmont used to ice over during training, and when the air whistled from her lungs, his own chest heaved with relief.
Giving him the gracious gesture of the monarch he liked to present himself as, Ulder inclined his head. “You will, Khayrivven. I’ll grant you a dance with your sister tonight, if you bring me a name in a week’s time…. And if you grant me a dance with the Flame-born thornling at your side.” Not a question, but another version of torture, making him pick whose safety was more important to him.
“Done.” Lory responded so fast that Khayrivven couldn’t even attempt to stop her. “I’d love a dance, my king.” She gave Ulder that saccharine smile once more, almost making Khayrivven’s heart stop as she curtsied again, holding out one hand the way she’d learned.
Everything inside Khayrivven screamed for him to claim that hand before Ulder could, to not let the king come within touching distance ofhisFlame, but even flinching would mean to give Ulder yet another weapon by admitting how much he cared for Elory Vednis.
No, this was a battle Lory had chosen and wanted to fight—for him. And he’d be a fool not to seize the opportunity to figure out once and for all if Elina would cooperate when he finally set out to rescue her.
Heart thumping violently in his chest, he watched Ulder rise from his seat and take Lory’s hand.
The woman who would choose between the heir of Criulias and the king on Brestolya’s throne and condemn one of the two to his downfall.
