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“And then they’ll accept it?”
“No. But it is a first step and one he feels he must take to travel down this path he sees himself heading.” Worry blinks in Elisaf’s brown eyes.
We’re approaching the doors, and I feel ill-prepared. Elisaf slows, bowing toward me to ensure only I can hear what he has to say next. “Walk in there with your head held high as your evil Romeria would. Do not speak more than necessary and do not forget proper salutations. The last thing the king needs is Boaz losing his temper and barking at you like some feral dog in front of the court.”
“I think that guy would kill me in front of the court if allowed.” Again.
“Likely. Though, he is not so bad.”
I can’t keep the soft snort from escaping.
Elisaf’s lips purse. “A plot unraveled beneath his nose that killed the king and queen he is charged to protect and ravaged a city his men are trained to keep safe. The burden he shoulders is heavy.”
I’ve been too busy despising Boaz for his cruel treatment of me, I never considered that. “He feels responsible.” As Corrin feels responsible, being a part of the queen’s staff whose duty it was to care for her. “Well, if it’s any consolation, he did kill me with that arrow.” I just didn’t stay dead.
Elisaf gives me a look. “He begged Zander to take his life as punishment for his failure.”
“That’s messed up.” But I suppose it speaks to Boaz’s honor and sense of duty. I’ve been so focused on my situation and how to be free of it, I haven’t thought about others within these walls who are in their own dreadful situations, still mourning losses. While I may not be guilty, Princess Romeria is, and that’s the only person they see when they look at me. I’m a conniving murderess within their midst, who they’re now forced to guard and feed and serve for the sake of Islor. Whether some invocation has wiped my memory or not means nothing to them. How would I react in their place, other than with anger and hate?
I swallow against that sobering thought. “What did Zander do? I mean, besides not killing him, seeing as Boaz is still around.”
“Zander has few people he trusts. Boaz is one of them. He served King Eachann for the entirety of his reign, as well as his predecessor, never taking a wife, never fathering a child. That is a loyalty to the crown that you cannot buy for all the gold in the kingdom.”
“For how many years?”
Elisaf smiles. “I think you mean to ask for how many centuries?”
The set of doors parts then, distracting me from giving his shocking words the attention they deserve. Guards dressed in full livery push either side open, the strain visible in their faces and arms suggesting it requires strength. Beyond them, a grand ballroom and a crowd of well-dressed people stands between me and Zander, who sits in his throne upon a dais at the far end, his expression stony. He gestures at me with a slight wave of his hand. You may enter, he’s saying.
The muscles in my legs tighten, the urge to run overwhelming.
“I’ll be behind you the entire time,” Elisaf whispers. “Stop before the first step. Remember what I said.”
“That they all hate me,” I whisper back. “Got it.”
His barely concealed snort gives me a second’s respite from the tension coursing through my limbs. Taking a deep breath, I tilt my head and begin my trek forward, reminding myself that this is no different from slinking into a hotel ballroom full of strangers and pretending I’m someone else. Except I’m the center of attention, strolling down a makeshift aisle banked by a hundred people, all eyes on me.
If this were a job for Korsakov, I’d be quietly casing the situation and doing my best to blend in, not appear guilty. I do that now, trying to ignore the judging stares and buzz of hushed whispers, shifting my focus to my surroundings without looking enthralled. It’s difficult not to be. The room itself is magnificent, several stories tall and constructed in limestone and gleaming marble of every shade from ivory to ebony, the floor decorated in a swirling pattern. Busts of former kings and queens on pedestals fill the space between gold pillars.
At the opposite end, fifteen steps lead to a dais and two thrones, their forms cast in entwined ebony horns like the ones on Malachi’s head. Behind, a canvas of decorative windows reaches from dais floor to vaulted ceilings, allowing daylight to stream in.
To my right, at floor level, are two stately chairs. Annika and Atticus occupy them, their faces reserved and revealing nothing. Now that they sit side by side, I see how similar in appearance they are.
I spare them one more second of attention before shifting my focus to where it should be—on the king.
Zander’s expression is even as he watches me approach, his posture oddly casual, his elbow resting on one armrest, his chin braced by his palm. He’s not wearing a crown, I note. Perhaps his throne is enough.
I stop at the bottom of the stairs as Elisaf instructed and curtsy as Corrin taught me, keeping my back stiff and dipping my head only slightly. You are the future queen, not his wench! she had barked. I steal a glance to my left to where Boaz stands, his hand on the hilt of his sword, his face steely. I’m trying to picture the glowering captain on his knees, begging to be executed, and I can’t. At least he appears satisfied by my efforts, so far.
A hush falls over the room as everyone waits for the king to speak.
Zander allows that deathly silence to stretch, until every cleared throat cuts like the whir of a chainsaw in a still morning, every whisper like a howling wind passing through a cracked window.
I fight the urge to squirm. Has he changed his mind about this scheme? Decided he can’t go through with it? Maybe I am to be sentenced to death instead.
“There have been many rumors traveling through Islor as of late that I would like to lay to rest once and for all.” His voice is deep and commanding, carrying through the hollows of this massive room. It doesn’t waver from nerves or a heavy heart. “I have summoned you all here on this day to bear witness to the truth. Princess Romeria of Ybaris is as much a victim to Queen Neilina’s duplicitous scheming as I am. She traveled here to fulfill the agreement made between King Barris and King Eachann for our union, and she did it with honor. At no time did she conspire against Islor.”
Zander pauses, barely concealing the foul taste of those words. This must curl his insides to say out loud. “While the obligation to Ybaris is now forfeit, Her Highness wishes to remain in Islor, at my side, in hopes that our union will bring future peace between our realms. I am amenable to that arrangement.”
