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Keris was furious with her. But that didn’t mean he wished her death. Far from it—what he wanted was the chance to prove her wrong. “I’m going to talk to my father. I’ll convince him to spare you—he’ll find it strange if I do otherwise.”
“Fine. Do what you will. You always do.”
Bending his knees, Keris jumped, pulling himself over the edge of the hole. He rose to his feet, right as the door to the chamber opened. But the screech of hinges wasn’t enough to drown out the sound of breaking glass below.
“Apologies for the interruption, my lord,” the guard said from the doorway. “The King wishes to have a word with the lady.”
Ignoring the man, Keris held the lantern down into the hole to better see his aunt, trepidation filling him, though he wasn’t certain why. “Coralyn…?”
There was blood everywhere.
The arms of her dress were soaked crimson from elbow to wrist, the broken wine bottle still gripped in her hand. “Forgive me.”
“Get the physician,” he shouted at the guard, then jumped back in the hole. He closed his hands over her wrists, trying to stem the tide, panic filling him as blood flowed between his fingers. “Why? Why have you done this?”
“I can’t risk Serin’s questions,” she answered between clenched teeth, already sagging in his grip. “You need to get out. You need to go.”
“I’m not leaving you!” Tears rolled down his cheeks. It didn’t need to be this way. He would have shown her. Would have shown them all.
Coralyn dropped to her knees, and Keris dropped with her, barely hearing the shouts of alarm from above. Barely feeling the blood soaking his clothes as his aunt slumped against him.
“I love you, dear one,” she whispered.
And then she said nothing more.
67
ZARRAH
Her hands struck the false bottom, sending it flying upward into the man’s face.
He cried out, but Zarrah ignored him and the pain of her cramped body as she launched from the chest.
She dived into him, sending them both rolling across the floor into a stack of books. Grabbing one, she smashed it into the man’s temple. He lay there, stunned, and she scrambled to her feet, slamming her heel down on his spine. The crack of his neck seemed to echo, and Zarrah glanced toward the door, waiting for it to open. Waiting for someone to investigate the noise. But the door remained closed.
Crossing the room, she locked the door, then turned to survey the corpse sprawled across the carpet. A corpse she was going to need to find a way to hide. She’d avoided using her knife to minimize the mess, but the bastard had loosed his bowels, and the room already smelled of shit and piss.
“Where the fuck are you, Keris?” She clung to her anger because the alternative was terror. What if something had happened to him? What if Silas had accused him of being involved?
What if Keris had done something stupid to try to save his aunt?
The thoughts spun through her head, compounded by her sense of helplessness at being stuck in here while he was out there facing their foes. But if she went out, and Keris did have the situation in hand, she’d destroy his hard-laid plans. Instead, she stripped the man of his soiled trousers and mopped up the mess with toweling, all of which she dumped down the privy, wishing it was large enough to dump the man himself. Then she wrapped the man in a blanket and shoved him under the bed.
Not a permanent solution, but the best she could do for now. Going back to the book chest, she climbed into it, debating how to close the false bottom over her again.
Click.
The door bolt turned. She whirled, pulling the knife from her belt as Keris stepped through the door.
Covered in blood.
Panic turned the room bright as she leapt out of the box, crossing the floor to him. He leaned back to close the door, closing his eyes as he rested against it. “What happened? Where are you hurt?”
“It’s not my blood. It’s Coralyn’s.”
She saw then that his eyes were red and swollen, his dirty cheeks streaked where tears had fallen. “She’s…?”
“Yes.”
