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Yrina stiffened, telling Keris that she agreed with his father’s sentiments toward the Empress.
“Or perhaps she anticipated that we’d be willing to negotiate. What you’ve done to this woman does us no favors.”
“Perhaps,” his father answered. “Either way, you’ve a point, Keris. It wouldn’t be ideal if this were discovered, so I think it best that we…burythe problem.”
Keris flinched as his father reached over and extracted the knife tucked into his belt. “This is your venture. Your gambit to prove to me that you’re worthy of being my heir. That you’re worthy of the Maridrinian crown. And part of being king is a willingness to do the dirty work.”
He forced the knife into Keris’s hand, squeezing his fingers shut around the hilt. “See it done.”
There was no chance this woman would survive. Even if Keris refused to kill her, his father would do it. Or one of the guards. Or Serin. Or they’d leave her to succumb to her injuries. To do it himself would be a mercy, because at least he would make it quick. So he stepped toward her.
Keris kept his eyes on Yrina, who, though her face was shattered, stared at him in defiance. “Do your worst, little princeling.” Her voice was slurred. “If you have the nerve for it.”
He didn’t have the nerve for it. The proof of that was in the vomit splattered against the wall. In the sweat rolling in beads down his back. In the rapid hammer of his heart.
“Do it.” His father leaned against the wall. “Prove your worth.”
The words echoed in his head:prove your worth, prove your worth, prove your worth.“Fine. But I neither need nor want an audience.”
One eyebrow rose, and his father said, “If this is an attempt to weasel your way out of this, put aside those foolish hopes. I will check that she’s dead. And lest you play the same tricks as your sister, I’ll ensure sheremainsdead.”
Keris had no notion of what his father was referring to, but neither did he care. “Out.”
“Don’t disappoint me.”
The door settled shut with a resounding thud, and Keris swallowed the sourness in his mouth. His palms were clammy, and he flexed his fingers around the pommel of the knife as he dropped to his knees in front of the chained woman, turning the flame down low on the lamp because he knew eyes would be watching through tiny holes in the walls.
And listening.
Yrina watched him warily, and as he stepped forward, she lunged against her chains. Only to fall back against the floor, gasping in pain.
But still dangerous.
Moving quickly, he dropped to his knees, catching her from behind and pulling her back against him. She struggled, cursing and swearing, but went silent as he said softly in her ear, “You and I want the same thing, Yrina.”
“And what is that?” She strained against him, looking for a weakness.
“Zarrah’s freedom.”
“This is a trick.”
“No.” He kept his grip tight, knowing that she’d try to kill him if he gave her a chance. “I know your name, for it was on her lips when she was in the grips of poison-induced delusions. You mean something to her. And she means something to you, else you’d not have come against the Empress’s orders.”
Silence. Which in and of itself was neither confirmation nor denial, but she’d also ceased struggling. Was listening to him. So he pushed forward. “In the days before her capture in Nerastis, Zarrah was disappearing at night. She was seeing me.”
“Lies.” As the words hissed from Yrina’s lips, she twisted out of his grip and wrenched the knife from his hand. In a flash, she was behind him, blade at his throat.
Shit.
He didn’t move, wondering whether it would be better to let her kill him or to scream for help. Then her body stiffened and she whispered, “Bergamot. Ginger. Red cedar. Oh my God.”
He had no idea what she was talking about, but he was afraid to move lest she slit his throat.
“The man she was seeing gave her a book,” she said. “What were the contents?”
Keris squeezed his eyes shut, pain filling his chest, for if Valcotta had shared that with this woman, she was more than a comrade. She was a friend. “Stories about stars.”
“It is you.” She let go of him, slumping to the ground. “Oh God, Zarrah. What a mess you got yourself into.” Then she lifted her face. “Do you care for her?”
