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“This is not your fault. No one could have foreseen what happened.”
“I should have known,” he insisted, his voice thick with emotion. “How much more loss can we bear? First your mother, then the Selannic royals. Then Killian—myfirstbornson. And now Cathal. I know you’re angry with me for inviting the suitors here, my dear, but you must understand why I insist on sending you away with such haste. I misjudged Nicholas Comyn, but I had hoped that sending you to Beltharos would spare you from the curse on this kingdom. I can live with selecting a husband who will protect you and give you a proper position. I could not endure the death of another person I love.”
“But surely you see that there is danger anywhere I might go. I could have died in Beltharos. We are at war with Erduria. Kenter may go to war with Kostos. I am in no more danger here than I am anywhere else. Allow me to stay.”
He shook his head. “I do not wish to argue with you, Riona. Not today. If that were the only reason, I might reconsider. Please, trust that I am trying to do what is best for you and for our kingdom. There are no easy answers when it comes to ruling a kingdom, especially in times of war.” King Domhnall’s arm fell from her shoulders, and he bowed his head once more. “Shall we pray for Treasurer Cathal?”
Riona nodded and clasped her hands, fixing her gaze on the stone beneath her knees.
“Creator, watch over our dear friend, Cathal, and guide him to everlasting peace at your side. He was taken from us too soon, and we shall cherish his friendship and faithful service every day,” he breathed. “Damn the man who committed this terrible crime, and forgive us who allowed it to come to pass.”
Once he had finished, Riona murmured the words of a prayer commonly spoken at funerals, but the words rang false as they left her tongue. She attended church with her family and said all the proper words, but she had lost all faith in the Creator the day they had learned of her mother’s death. She would not worship a god who stole a little girl’s mother from her.
When she fell silent, the king rose and offered her a hand up. His tears had dried, but his face still bore the evidence of his grief. “Forgive me. It is improper for a king to display such weakness, and I beg your discretion on the matter,” he said softly.
Riona pulled him into a tight embrace. “Right now, you are not a king. You are merely a man in mourning. Do not be ashamed.”
“Thank you, my darling niece.” He hugged her for a few heartbeats, then stepped back. “I’ve kept you too long. You should go and prepare for the banquet.”
“Would you care to walk with me?”
“No, I’ll remain here with my thoughts for a little while longer. Go ahead. I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Very well.” She curtsied and started toward the exit, but his voice halted her halfway down the aisle.
“You are wiser and stronger than you know, Riona. Wherever you go when the negotiations are finished, your new people will be lucky to have you. You will lead them well.”
ChapterTwenty-One
The Liar
Auberon arrived at the Royal Theater at midnight, his heavy wool cloak dripping from the downpour that had begun minutes after he’d left the castle. The main doors were unlocked, and as he walked into the foyer, he admired the soaring ceiling and the sculpted golden ivy climbing the walls. Stone dragons with onyx eyes and claws glared at him from the corners of the room as he trudged toward one of the many curtained archways on the far wall, the hem of his sodden cloak dragging across the ornate rug. The distant strain of a piano drifted through the opening.
He slipped through the curtains and continued into the theater, the dark room sprawling before him. The only light came from the stage, which was decorated with tall trees crafted of twisted bits of metal, their branches skeletal and unnatural. Bits of white fabric hung from them like spectral leaves. The scene was ghostly and ethereal, like something out of a storybook.
Riona was seated at the piano on the edge of the stage, her profile gilded by the light of the scattered candles—high cheekbones, full lips, straight nose. Her hands danced over the keys, filling the air with a haunting, beautiful melody. Auberon stopped mid-step when he recognized the song, feeling as if the Creator had just reached out and stolen the breath from his lungs. He watched, transfixed, as Riona played.
Her eyes were closed, her fingers gliding faultlessly over the keys. The melody slowed, notes straining with a sense of melancholy and longing that Auberon felt in the pit of his stomach. It was a song that made the world stop for a few precious seconds.
Finally, the last note faded, and silence settled over the theater. Riona’s lids remained shut, her fingers lingering on the keys. Auberon took what felt like his first full breath in ages. He didn’t want to move, to break the beauty of the moment.
Riona’s hands fell into her lap, and she opened her eyes. “Your Highness.”
“I—I didn’t know you could play like that. Where did you learn that song?”
“My parents took me to the ballet when I was young. After we returned home, I sat at our piano and played it from memory.” A wistful smile tugged at her lips. “It’s called—”
“The Fall of the Faeries,” he breathed, lost in the memories the song had unearthed. “It’s my mother’s favorite song. She used to play it for me when I was younger. Even tried to teach me once, but I was terrible. I couldn’t have played worse if I’d been using my feet.”
Riona’s smile grew, then she abruptly stood and closed the lid over the keys, a cold mask slipping over her features. Auberon cursed himself as he saw her defenses rise. Could she even look at him without being reminded of the last time she’d seen her mother’s face?
“So tell me: how did you manage to slip out of the castle?”
He shot her a crooked grin. “I spent the day making no secret of my love of drinking and gambling, which is why the guards at the gate found it not at all surprising when I told them I planned to spend the night enjoying all the delights Innislee’s taverns had to offer.”
“The day before you meet with the king for negotiations?” Riona asked, raising a skeptical brow.
“I spent the last five days in a cot in the infirmary, my lady. Creator forbid I wanted to celebrate my newfound freedom with a drink or two.”
