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The Amaridian opened his mouth, but Keris’s father snarled, “Silence your tongue, woman. You weren’t invited to this dinner to discuss politics.”
Valcotta rested her chin on one hand and gave the Harendellian a conspiratorial smile. “I believe he wished to prove to you that I am still alive.”
“What was that, dear?” The man frowned at her. “I’m afraid I’m a touch hard of hearing.”
“I’m still alive!” Zarrah shouted, provoking a glare from his father.
“Oh, yes.” The Harendellian nodded vigorously. “There was a great deal of concern about King Aren’s well-being.”
His father’s face purpled at the use of Aren’s title, his eye flicking to the conversation between the man in question and his wife, then back to the conversation in front of him, then to the Amaridian, who was staring with undisguised lust at Lestara’s breasts as she swayed around the table, the other noblemen little better.
“Somewhat less vigor,” his father shouted at the musicians. “I can barely hear myself think!”
What he wanted to demand was for Coralyn to cease her conversation with Aren, but that would grant Aren power in the eyes of all in the room, which his father’s pride couldn’t tolerate. Keris opened his book, struggling not to smirk as sweat beaded on his father’s brow.
“Your wife is tremendously talented, Your Grace,” the Amaridian said. “I must say, Maridrinian women are famed the world over for their beauty and grace. Especially in the bedroom.”
His father clearly didn’t hear the man’s words, for he showed no reaction. And Keris had seen him kill men for lesser insults.
“The woman is clearly from Cardiff, you daft fool,” the Harendellian declared. “I can tell from the pallor. And her eyes. We’ve a saying in Harendell: beware the amber eyes of Cardiff, for if you look too long, they steal your soul.”
“Superstitions,” the Amaridian snapped. “Though I’d expect no less from you.”
The men devolved into bickering, as Keris had anticipated they would, the volume growing louder and the musician playing louder to compensate. And at the far end of the table, Coralyn smiled and laughed, though the gravity of their conversation was betrayed by the seriousness of Aren’s expression.
Take the bait,Keris silently pleaded as he stared blindly at the pages of his book, flipping them from time to time.Give us what we need.
“Enough!” his father shouted at Lestara. “Sit down!”
Lestara returned to her seat, the entire table silent as Silas rose to his feet, glaring at the ambassadors, though Keris knew his ire was for Coralyn. “I invited you here as a show of respect for your kings and nations, and you betray my hospitality by bickering and disrespecting my wife.” He rested his hands on the table. “Get the fuck out of my house.”
The Harendellian slowly rose to his feet. “With respect, Your Grace, I—”
“Out!”
The noblemen and ambassadors all silently rose and bowed before departing under the escort of guards. When they were gone, Aren said, “If I’d known your dinner parties were such lively affairs, I’d have accepted the invitation sooner.” Then he rose, his chains rattling. “I’ll take my leave for the evening.”
Keris’s father gave a tight nod at the guards, who unshackled the Ithicanian king and took him from the room. “This one, too.” He jerked his chin at Valcotta, and she shrugged and rose, departing on Aren’s heels, the female musician following after her.
“We will eat in peace,” his father declared, then sat back down, the servants soon appearing with the main course.
Peace wasnotthe word that Keris would have used for the rest of dinner, but it was silent until the last of the dishes had been removed and his father leaned back in his chair, a glass of cognac balanced on his knee as he regarded them. “It was well done,” he finally said, his eyes on Coralyn. “What did you learn from him?”
Shock radiated through Keris as Coralyn sipped at the tea one of the servants had brought her. “Likewise, Your Grace, you played your part to perfection. Aren was entirely convinced that I was speaking to him against your will.”
Keris opened his mouth to comment, then closed it again, realizing that he was not the master of the scene he’d believed he’d orchestrated.
“He does not know where Lara is or where she might have gone,” Coralyn said. “Nor her sisters, though he told me one of them is dead.” She set her cup down and gave his father a long stare.
“Marylyn gained access to Midwatch prior to the main attack, her goal to secure Lara, kill her if necessary,” he answered, then drained his cup. “Aren, she was supposed to kill.”
Marylyn.The name was familiar, but in truth, Keris only had a vague memory of many of his half sisters who were taken into the Red Desert at the same time as Lara. His mother had always kept both him and Lara close to her, unwilling to share the burden of motherhood the way the rest of the harem did, which meant that he and Lara had bordered on inseparable before she’d been taken. He wondered if she even remembered him, or if time and distance had erased him from her memory as Marylyn had been erased from his.
“They are yourdaughters,Silas.” Coralyn’s voice was cold. “You should not have pit them against one another. They are family.”
All of Keris’s half brothers were family, and yet they were encouraged to murder one another to ensure the strongest inherited.
“Cast your blame at Lara’s feet,” his father snapped. “Her loyalty was supposed to be to this family. To Maridrina. And yet when faced with a handsome young husband, she forgot who she was. Where she came from. Family is everything, and she betrayed us.”
