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Riona turned back to the mirror. The cut and drape of the gown emphasized the curves of her bust and waist, and the low neckline bared her collarbone and long, slender neck. Every inch of her was perfect and polished, save for the garish line of stitches above her heart. Determination swept over Riona as she studied her reflection. This was the woman she’d been meant to become. She would never be as skilled with a blade as Auberon, but she didn’t need to be. She was a lady of Innislee’s cutthroat court, and if there was anything this wretched place had taught her, it was that a clever mind and silver tongue could be just as exacting as a blade.
Riona felt Amaris’s stare as she picked up the belt with Auberon’s dagger and secured it around her waist, the emeralds in the dagger’s hilt gleaming in the lantern light. Then she took a single, steadying breath and said, “Time’s up.”
* * *
The banquet hall went silent the moment Riona strode into the room, nobles turning one by one to gawk at the strange procession she led. As she walked down the aisle between the two long tables, Valerian and Amaris flanking her, she saw every pair of eyes drop to the wound above her heart. Whispers rose throughout the hall.
She stopped in the center of the room and scanned the sea of faces until she found Auberon, who was standing with his brother near the bottom of the dais steps. The moment his gaze met hers, the rest of the world faded. Her heart lurched. After everything that had happened, she wasn’t sure where they stood. He had deceived her, and he had saved her life. He had confessed to loving her and refused her offer of marriage. If his father commanded it, he would destroy her kingdom without a moment’s hesitation.
And yet, even now, she could feel that undeniable tether pulling taut between them.
As if sensing her nerves, Auberon offered her a faint, crooked smile and mouthed,Do not falter, aramati.
Aramati. Beloved one.The word sent a pang through her chest, memories of their last night in the theater filling her mind. Her body pressed to his, his lips against hers, his hands trailing over her bare skin. Agony and desire in his eyes as he confessed his love for her. Devastation on his face when he swore that there would never be anything more between them.
Riona turned her attention to the dais. King Domhnall, Queen Blair, and the four heirs were already seated at the head table, staring at her with varying degrees of curiosity and confusion. From his place beside the Crown Prince, her father sat with blatant fear in his eyes, his fingers curled tightly around the stem of his goblet. He glanced sidelong at his brother. The king’s face might as well have been hewn from marble for all the emotion it betrayed. Even so, Riona did not miss the rigid set to his shoulders, the tension corded through his body.
Riona looked over her shoulder. Behind her stood Valerian and Amaris, then Faylen and Aeron, and then Vick and the brothers from the mine. (She’d been less than thrilled to find out that Auberon had promised his protection to the man who had sent sell-swords to kill them, but had begrudgingly admitted that his testimony would be invaluable.) And behind them, arrayed in two perfect lines, were four dozen Kentari and Erdurian guards in full armor. In her periphery, Riona saw the Rivosi guards lining the perimeter of the banquet hall shift their weight uneasily, their hands drifting to the swords at their hips. Even the Master of the Guard, standing at the rear of the dais, looked uneasy.
A smile laced with venom spread across the king’s lips. “Tell us, for I’m certain we are all sitting on the edges of our seats: To what do we owe this unusual display, niece?”
“I know who murdered Treasurer Cathal.”
“Who?”
The word came out a command, a warning. A challenge. His dark eyes locked with hers, daring her to tell the court all she knew.
Riona turned to Faylen and asked, loud enough for all to hear, “Can you identify the man who attacked you and Treasurer Cathal?”
The elf scanned the room. It wasn’t long before she froze, the blood draining from her face. Riona followed her gaze to Lord Farquar, who was standing at the edge of the crowd with Lord Winslow and another advisor. His grizzled face didn’t change, but she could have sworn she saw surprise flit through his eyes at the sight of Faylen. He must have assumed that she’d left the country after fleeing Innislee. Faylen clutched the sheaf of stolen treasury documents close to her chest as she held the lord’s stare and said, “It was him. He killed the Treasurer.”
All eyes turned to Farquar, who scoffed. “I did no such thing.”
“You did. The morning after Prince Auberon’s poisoning, Cathal ran into my room in that Creator-forsaken brothel and told me that someone was coming to kill him. He instructed me to take these documents out of the city, to Crafford, and promised he would meet me there once it was safe. That was when Lord Farquar arrived,” Faylen said, fury overcoming her fear. Her voice echoed throughout the hall; the nobles had gone so quiet one could have heard a pin drop. “I didn’t know who he was at the time; my room was dark, and he was careful to keep the hood of his cloak up so most of his face was in shadow, but I recognize him now. He knocked me to the ground and threw himself on Cathal, shoving him onto the bed. I saw him…” She faltered, swallowing tightly. “I saw him plunge a dagger into Cathal’s chest more than a dozen times. I swear it on the Creator and all the Old Gods.”
“That is a ridiculous claim. Cathal was a treasured friend and an exceptional advisor, and I mourned his death,” Farquar objected. “Is the court now to take the word of some common whore over that of a man who commanded its navy for decades? She said herself that she never saw the attacker’s face.”
“I didn’t say that,” Faylen shot back. “When I tried to pull you off Cathal, you turned back and elbowed me in the nose. The light from the hall struck part of your face, and I saw a flash of those remarkable eyes. Deep, emerald green. Between your build and what I saw of your face, there’s no mistaking it. You murdered the man I loved,” she said, the words as final and damning as a death sentence.
Riona smiled at the outrage on the lord’s face. “You poisoned the goblet meant for Treasurer Cathal,” she added, raising her voice to keep him from spouting the truth about the king’s involvement in the plot. “When you saw that it had gone to the wrong man, you bided your time and answered all the guards’ questions, waiting for the king to release everyone from the banquet hall so you could finish the job. But all those hours gave Cathal time to reflect on the events of the night. When he realized that the poison had been meant for him, he fled the castle and went to collect the woman he loved. You followed him, and when the opportunity presented itself, you murdered him and the servant who delivered the wine.
“You are guilty, and you will be held in custody until you can face justice for your crimes.” Riona turned to the two nearest Kentari guards. “Disarm and bind him.”
Farquar’s cheeks reddened with fury, his hand curling about the grip of his sword. “You have no authority to do such a thing. I am a member of the king’s council and a respected naval captain.” He looked to the king as the guards pulled their swords and advanced on him. “Your Majesty, bring your niece to heel!”
Prince Domhnall shot to his feet, his chair scraping across the floor. “Youdarecommand your king?”
King Domhnall stood as well, but his calm, level gaze was focused entirely on Riona. She could see the wheels turning in his head as he carefully appraised the drama unfolding before him, trying to gauge just how much truth she would reveal to the court. Beside him, the queen hurriedly gestured for one of the servants to usher the three younger heirs out of the room.
Finally, the king fixed his attention on Farquar and said, “You always have been envious of Treasurer Cathal’s position, Farquar. Always considered the comfortable life he enjoyed worthy repayment for the debt this kingdom owes you. I see you grew tired of waiting for his retirement.”
Lord Farquar’s mouth dropped open when he realized that his king had just betrayed him. Condemned him. He whirled around and ripped the sword from the sheath at his hip, snarling as the guards lunged for him. Lord Winslow and the others scrambled backward, a few ducking under the banquet tables to avoid the fighting.
The guards did not hesitate. They descended on Farquar, their blades clashing with the ring of steel on steel. The naval captain was a skilled fighter, but the guards were younger and faster, and he was outnumbered. It didn’t take long for one of them to disarm the lord and smash the pommel of his sword into Farquar’s nose. He reeled backward and fell to his knees, blood bubbling over his lips. The guards wasted no time in subduing him; one bound his wrists behind his back, and the other forced a gag into his mouth.
Riona looked up at the dais and held her uncle’s cool stare.Do you understand now? Do you see that even after everything that has happened, I am still trying to protect our kingdom? Still trying to protectyou?I could have told them everything.
“Your Majesty, Lord Farquar is guilty, and for his crimes, he must be sentenced to execution.”
