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Sympathy shone in his blue-gray eyes. “I don’t think I am,aramati.”
Riona turned away, shaking her head. He was only suspicious of the king because of the direction the negotiations had taken. Her uncle was cold and unyielding when it came to the war with Erduria, but he would never be so heartless as to order the death of the man who had served him for decades. She had seen him mourning in the private chapel, tears of pure grief running down his face.
“If my uncle were behind the murder, he would already have the missing documents in his possession. The assassin would have taken them from Cathal’s body and delivered them to the king, but that didn’t happen. The guards are still searching.”
“Which must mean that Faylen has them. Don’t you see?That’swhy Cathal went to the brothel that morning. He must have known he would be followed if he tried to leave the city, so he gave her the papers and told her to disappear. The king knows that if he finds her, he’ll find the documents, too.”
As far as anyone knew, Faylen had simply vanished. It would have made sense for Cathal to give her the documents and tell her to meet him somewhere safe outside the city. The Royal Treasurer drew attention wherever he went, but an elven woman would have been able to join the bustle of traffic through one of the city gates without anyone noticing.
Riona stood and crossed the stage, wrapping her arms around herself as doubts began to creep in. “Cathal slept in the castle all night after you were poisoned,” she said, turning back to face Auberon. “The murder didn’t occur until the next morning. If my uncle had been behind it, he would have sent someone to kill Cathal the moment he realized the poison had gone to the wrong person.”
Auberon shook his head. “The assassin knew to wait until the right opportunity presented itself—first, during the chaos of the banquet when any jealous courtier could have slipped poison into the Treasurer’s goblet, and then in a brothel, where the murder could be explained as the result of a fight between lovers. If not for the burned and missing documents, it would have been dismissed as a mere coincidence that it happened after the attempt on my life. Find those papers, and you may find your killer’s motive.”
Then I must find Faylen,Riona thought,and I must do it alone.If the documents were truly as important and confidential as Auberon believed, she could not allow them to fall into his hands.
Mistaking her silence for uncertainty, Auberon picked up the dagger and approached her. “I know this is hard to hear, but if we hope to find the man responsible for Cathal’s murder, we must examine every possibility. For your sake, I pray that I am wrong. But I cannot overlook my duty to my country and my people. All of this—the war, the assassination, the mines—is tied together somehow.”
This war will not end until the Tranquil Sea runs red with Erdurian blood.
Auberon took her hand and set the dagger in her palm. “You don’t have to trust me,” he breathed, “but trust that I love my people as deeply as you love yours. I will do anything to protect them. If I’m right, you and I can prevent a slaughter that would claim thousands of Rivosi and Erdurian lives.”
There was nothing but sincerity on his face. Nothing but desperation in the way his hand gripped hers.
“Do you trust in that?” Auberon asked, his eyes searching hers.
“Yes,” she responded softly. “I do.”
ChapterThirty
The Lady
Two weeks passed with infuriatingly little change. Almost every day, Auberon was occupied with negotiations or meetings with the council members, attempting to convince the advisors to endorse Drystan for the betrothal. With a few well-chosen words to the right people, he had ensured that news of the king’s refusal of a peace treaty spread like wildfire. People gathered in the streets every time Riona accompanied the suitors on a public outing, and as the days passed, their looks toward the Erdurian princes shifted from hostile to wary, and from wary to hopeful. The tide was turning in their favor.
As soon as Riona had noticed the shift, she redoubled her efforts with Valerian. At every opportunity, they took food and supplies to the poorest sections of the city or chatted with townspeople in the public gardens. She had even taken him to meet the dancers at the theater, all of whom had blushed and stuttered at receiving the slightest bit of attention from him. Rumors of the duke’s kindness and generosity spread as quickly as Auberon’s planted barbs, and it wasn’t long before crowds began forming in the gardens and market for a glimpse of the golden-haired duke. Valerian still had the least to offer the king in terms of an alliance, but he had earned the hearts of the people, and that held its own weight.
Every day provided another chance to tip the scales. Auberon’s criticisms about the ongoing war put pressure on King Domhnall to choose Drystan, while Valerian’s popularity among the people bolstered his favor in the court, much to Eamon’s chagrin.
Every night, Riona and Auberon upheld their shaky alliance. The prince wasn’t happy about her helping Valerian gain favor, but even he admitted that it was a good strategy. The longer the negotiations continued, the more time they would have to hunt down Cathal’s killer and learn about the eudorite mines. Still, it didn’t stop him from making sarcastic, mocking quips at every possible opportunity. Riona snapped a response every time. She resented that he was sowing doubt among the courtiers, manipulating them to turn against their king. After a while, they came to the unspoken agreement to only discuss matters concerning their partnership, and nothing more.
As far as either of them could tell, the royal guards and city watchmen had come no closer to finding Cathal’s murderer. Neither they nor Riona’s helpers had been able to find any trace of Faylen in the city or surrounding towns. Doubts festered within Riona, only growing stronger with every day that passed. Where had Faylen gone? What was she planning to do with the documents Cathal had given her?
Late one night, she stood on the side of the stage with her prop sword, watching Auberon demonstrate a drill. Earlier that evening, he had tossed his doublet over the piano bench, leaving him in his fitted trousers and loose linen undershirt. The open collar revealed a swath of his suntanned skin and toned chest, the muscles sculpted from years of swordplay. The sight sent a warm—and horrifying—rush of desire through Riona. Curse her, she couldn’t deny that he was handsome. Something about the little furrow of concentration between his brows, the sleeves he’d rolled up to his elbows, the shock of rich auburn hair hanging over his forehead, had her studying him in a different light.
He glanced over at her, and she quickly tore her gaze away, a flush rising to her cheeks. “Try again,aramati,” he said, oblivious to her traitorous thoughts. “This time, see if you can land even one blow. A hundred aurums says I strike you first.”
“You’ve been training all your life. Of course you’re going to hit me first.”
“You know, one of the things I admire most about you is your infallible optimism. Now quit talking and attack me. If you strike me first, I’ll double the bet.”
“I’d settle for five minutes without a sarcastic quip at my expense.”
Auberon’s smile grew. “Deal.”
Riona charged forward, slashing at his face, his arms, and his chest in quick succession. Auberon knocked her blade aside every time. His sword swung low, and she brought hers up to meet it before it could strike her side. He murmured praise as she lunged and parried, trying to break through his defense. When he swung to meet her next blow, she twisted, bringing her blade down in a whistling arc. Before the blow could connect, he snaked his ankle around hers and slammed into her shoulder, throwing her off balance. She landed hard on the stage, a bright flare of pain shooting through her hip. Auberon smirked as he leveled the point of his sword at her face.
“Alas, you remain the subject of my mockery. What was your mistake?”
“Got too close.” She grimaced and sat up, rubbing her sore hip. “I didn’t leave myself enough room to swing.”
