Page 152 of A Dance of Lies

And the suffering before,I had hedged.Would it end in death?

Never,he’d said.Nothing so final as that.

Then losing such a reward would be unimaginable, no? Perhaps worth whatever torment might come, so long as that torment would end.

He’d plucked a rose from a nearby bush. Twirled it once.

Thank you,he had said, then handed it to me.

Oh, what a mistake I had made.

I had sealed my own fate. He had asked me plainly, yet I thought nothing of it; even after, I wouldn’t have guessed he had been referring to me.

“Your imprisonment was part of our agreement,” Illian says. “One I would have liked to spare you from. His amendment was that I punish you for running away. For causing him such grief. The terms of our agreement were nonnegotiable. I delayed it as long as I could, even at the threat of your father revoking our deal. But I had wanted to show you what all I could offer. You were pampered, doted on. In the end, however, I had to honor my end of our bargain. And as much as it pained me, Vasalie, I knew it would keep you safe. And, well, you were becoming so defiant. So bold and beguiling. With half the nobles roaming around you, ready to pounce . . .” He trails off, running his nose along my cheek. “Didn’t you wonder why we kept you alive, well fed, and away from the rest?”

I don’t believe for a second that was all it was. He wanted to control me. Wanted to manipulate me into needing him, obeying him . . .

I jerk away. Illian’s eyes flash, and he tries to haul me back toward him, but I retreat another step. Others are beginning to watch, the tension between us palpable. Every action I take will have consequences, but I feel as if I barely inhabit my own body.

I am breaking—before everyone.

“I believe it’s time for us to retire for the evening,” Illian announces, forcing a smile at those around us. He inches his fingers around my ribs. “My wife-to-be needs her rest and is still grieved over the loss of her king. I think it best for both of us.” He clampsa hand on my hip and turns to where my father stands, talking to some of the Serain court. He pauses when he notices us.

“This is the part where you bow and cast your well wishes upon the groom and his bride,” Illian says lowly, his thumb digging into my waist.

A small spark flares within me.

I raise my chin, just slightly, and look upon my father. “May every deed you have bestowed upon others be returned to you tenfold.” And then, to Queen Aesir, a woman not much older than I am, or even Emilia when she wed my father, I say, “Congratulations, Your Grace. It takes a bold woman to replace my stepmother. May he love you with the ferocity with which he loved her.”

I hold their gaze, even as I dip into a short, irreverent bow.

And then I stride away.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Illian keeps pace with me to save face; he won’t yank me around with so many eyes. But the moment I plow through those double doors, I tear myself from his grip, then round on him. “When was it you sold your soul to the Fate of Morta? When did that come into play?” I feel like I’ve swallowed fire, like it’s burning a path down my throat. Illian’s guards move behind us, watching me, readying to pounce.

Illian snatches the hand I pulled loose. “The Fate of Morta? Vasalie, that prophecy is a farce, and those priests are little more than fearmongers. Traitors to their people. And they were arrested as such.”

He has not, knowingly, sold his soul. Not that it isn’t rotted down to his core. But . . . if he didn’t make some connection or agreement with the Fate of Morta—

I shake my head, studying him again.

And then I see it, there in the hollows of those dark, deceiving eyes. “You arrested the prophets because youknowthe prophecy is about you. You didn’t want anyone to find out.”

Perhaps he wasn’t a knowing participant. But that doesn’t meanthe prophecy isn’t true. None of this was ever about the Fate of Morta; it was about their plan. The prophecy was merely a warning of the destruction that would follow.

Voices echo, courtiers emptying from the Dome Hall. Quickly, Illian pulls me down the arc pass and into a narrow hall, then shoves up against me, my back flattening against the wall.

“I’ve had enough of your tongue. If it were up to your father, you never would have been here. He thought to keep you in that wretched cell until our agreement was final. But I not only needed a dancer, I needed myJewel.I knew that only you, with your Fates-given gifts and talent, could worm your way into certain areas of the Gathering I could not and charm those I needed you to charm. Besides, if I had to earn the throne, I’d give you the opportunity to do the same.

“So I defied him and brought you here, and even that cost me. I had to prove to him that I could use your talents for the greater good. And he could have turned to Estienne had I not convinced him. He could have given you tohiminstead.”

What a fool Illian was to not see my father’s true intentions. That he would give me to Estienne was a mere threat to ensure Illian’s cooperation.

All of this was about my father gaining power over Miridran and Brisendale both. He approached Illian when Illian was desperate and distraught by King Junien’s actions. And Illian was fool enough to not only help seat my father on the Brisendali throne but cooperate in full—because as much as he wanted the kingdom to himself, he also came to wantme.More and more, as time went on.

And that wanting kept him on my father’s leash.