Page 66 of Crown of the Dunes

Still, the mess of ripped flesh at the front of his neck was consistent with the serrated blade that lay near his hand and the desperate stabbing of a man messily stabbing at his own throat. It was not the single deep cut of a victim who had been attacked from behind. A smart murderer might have made those marks to cover their trail, though.

One thing was for certain: Whether Dravis had died by his own hand or another’s, more sinister forces than I imagined were at work in the palace, and I needed to stop them before they harmed the desert. Or Keera. After all, Dravis had been supportive of Keera up until the coronation. He might have been forced to reject her and then killed by the conspirator to cover their tracks.

And if forces conspired to damage Kelvadan, they might next turn their sights to the clans, or the Heart. After all I had sacrificed, I could not let them be harmed.

My fingers tingled with the need to be doing something, and I settled for drumming them across the desk before me as I waited. I longed for the scrape of a whetstone across a blade, that sound one of the only things that could drown out the chattering in my brain. Of course, I hadn’t carried a sword in the two weeks that I had been living in the palace. While nobody had tried to lock me away or put me in chains yet, openly bearing a weapon might force people to address the fact that I was still technically a prisoner, even though I had proved my loyalty.

So, I stayed out of the way, spending most of my time in the stables helping my father. While the stone around me made tension build in my shoulders and cold sweat gather in the small of my back, being around horses assuaged some of the uneasiness. When my hands were busy brushing them, they were not picking my cuticles raw, at least.

Of course, now I sat alone in the chambers that belonged to the commander of the riders, and I had no such comfort. The voices in my head grew to distraction, and I clenched my teeth until my jaw ached.

My heart jumped as a hand grabbed my shoulder. My reflexes responded before my mind registered who it was. I grabbed the wrist and wrenched my assailant forward, slamming them into the desk before me. Even as I pinned them in place against the heavy wooden surface, the tip of a dirk, drawn lightning fast, pricked under my chin.

I froze, staring into Aderyn’s flinty gaze as she stared at me in challenge, her knife tip steady at my Adam’s apple.

“What were you doing in my chair?” she asked.

I loosened my hold on her, but her gaze did not soften.

“Waiting for you,” I admitted.

“You didn’t do a good job of ambushing me, if I caught you off guard so easily.”

I frowned. “I wasn’t planning on ambushing you.”

Her eyes flicked to our posture, and she raised a brow.

“You should know better than to sneak up on me,” I said, finally releasing her completely and stepping back.

She drew her dirk away from my throat but didn’t lower it completely.

“I know no such thing.” Her voice was cool and business-like—the voice of a commander who brooked no argument from her riders. She had grown into a leader in the time I had been away from Kelvadan. Muscles corded her bare arms, the softness of youth replaced by strong efficiency.

“I came for your help,” I explained.

“Why should I help you?”

Irritation climbed up my spine, raising my mental hackles. I grit my teeth, trying to swallow it down. I had signed up for this mistrust when I chose to remain in Kelvadan.

“Because you protect this city, and this is a matter of Kelvadan’s security,” I explained.

She folded her arms and waited for me to continue.

“I went to confront Archon Dravis after the coronation. It seems that somebody else got there first and greeted him with a knife to the throat.”

Aderyn blanched. “He’s dead?”

I nodded.

“And I’m supposed to believe it wasn’t you who killed him?”

My composure cracked, and a growl bubbled up in my throat. “If I had killed him, I wouldn’t be here announcing his death to you. And if I wanted violence, why would I dispose of somebody who appeared to support my claim to power?”

“Because I don’t trust you, and I refuse to be fooled by you like everyone else,” she said, baring her own teeth at me.

Two large steps, and I was back in her space, crowding her against the desk. She didn’t flinch, staring up at me in cold defiance.

“Your queen has decided to trust me,” I spat, my voice rising with every word. “Even my father and I have come to an understanding. Why do you refuse to believe that I’ve surrendered? If they can accept my return, after I abandoned this city, why do you still loathe me?”