Page 6 of A Dance of Lies

“Vasalie Moran,” he says, his onyx gaze holding mine. “The past two years have not been kind to you.”

I don’t answer, though a retort climbs to my lips.You did this tome, you lying swine.But then his words hit me like a blow.Two years.I hadn’t known how long. I’d lost track.

The king studies me, his lips pulling into a frown. I hope he remembers everything—the color of my blood, the pitch of my screams. I will him to see it in my eyes.

I hope he sees a ghost come to haunt him.

He blows out another exhale. “You wonder why I’ve brought you here, no doubt.”

At my silence, he eases back, his long fingers twining around the arms of his chair. “I am merciful,” he says, almost wistful. “I always have been—especially to you. I allowed you to live, after all, despite your horrendous crime.” I tighten my jaw, but he continues. “And here you are, out of prison. So relax, my Vasalie; fortune has smiled upon you once more. Follow my commands, and you will never see your cell again.”

My Vasalie.His property, as always—though a kernel of hope unfolds within my chest.Follow my commands, and you will never see your cell again.

But I know him. I’ve learned the taste of his lies. Whatever he says next will be tempting, like a gown strung with rubies and pearls, the flashy gems hiding the steel-boned corset underneath. Another cage.

“The reward,” he says, “will be your exoneration.”

“Exoneration . . .” The word escapes before I realize I said it aloud. It shatters on my lips, rough and broken, pitiful even to my own ears.

His lips peel upward into a knowing smirk—the same smirk he showcased at the end of my performances. “I want you to join the entertainment on the Isle of Anell during the Crowns’ Gathering,” he says. “As my informant, so to speak—though you’ll be so much more. Of course, I can only guarantee you an audition. You must impress the Master of Revels to be granted a performer’s spot. Succeed, however, and after . . .”

I sway and lose my balance, almost fall, but the guard behind me clamps my shoulder.

The Crowns’ Gathering. My mind reels as memories return. It’s a monthlong conclave for the united northern nations—also known as the Crowns’ Syndicate—hosted by Miridran’s three kings. It occurs every three years as a way to renew trade agreements and keep the peace among once warring nations.

An invitation to perform at the Crowns’ Gathering is an honor, one any serious entertainer would kill for. Such a coveted position would bring as much fame as it would riches.

Despite being hosted on an island in East Miridran just a few days’ ride from here, King Illian has never allowed me to audition before. It didn’t matter how much I pleaded. And now, after all this time, after what he’s done to me . . .

“Vasalie?” he prods. Impatience spreads across his face.

Anger flushes my cheeks and my voice cracks in what sounds like shock. Is this a joke? “Look at me, Your Majesty.”

“I am looking.”

My eyes drop to the floor—to my bony feet, my thin legs, no longer padded with muscle. Scars pucker the skin around my ankles and wrists, visible beneath my shackles. “I am in no condition to dance. I haven’t been for a long time.”Thanks to you.But my voice sounds frail, lacking the bite I wish I could muster.

“You will be,” he says. “We have two months to prepare for your audition. But I won’t sit here and convince you, Vasalie. Refuse my order, and you can go back to your dungeon and rot.”

He can see it on my face; I’ll do anything to avoid going back.

I’m on a hook, and all he has to do is reel.

“What will be required of me should I make it in?” I ask, almost a whisper.

“As an entertainer, you will be allowed access to places my other informants cannot go. You will act as my spy, reporting to me on everything I wish to know. And once the Gathering ends, you willbe released with a full pardon. I’ll return your title, your apartment, whatever you wish. Ask for it, and it will be yours.”

Whatever I wish.

Back in my cell, I spent countless hours wondering what that was. What I would have done differently; what I would do if, by some miracle, I escaped. That was before hopelessness set in, absorbed like ink into the fibers of my being.

Whatever you wish. Ask for it, and it will be yours.

For the longest time, I thought it was revenge. I wanted revenge against the man before me, who threw me away without half a thought. I imagined all the ways I wanted to hurt him, and I don’t deny that rage still exists. I still want revenge.

But more than that, I want to be free. I want to forget my past, my pain, and disappear. I want to pretend I never came here. I want to forget everything.

I want to forgethim.