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Another lazy shrug, but I sense he’s lying. He knows what she plans.
“She’s not known for her patience. Neither is the commander with whom she shares her bed. By the way, was it Tiberius who stabbed your father, or did she do her dirty work herself?”
He grins. “My mother has always preferred to keep her hands clean.”
He’s not even denying it. Either he’s given up on living or it amuses him that his father is dead. Neither are my problem. “I think she’ll cross soon, while she thinks Islor is in turmoil and there will be no one to resist her.” I watch Tyree’s expression, but he gives nothing away. “Is she willing to negotiate?”
“Depends. What do you have to offer?”
A thought has been brewing in my mind. “A royal wedding.”
Tyree barks out a laugh. “You’re not my type. Besides, I’ve heard you’re already betrothed.”
“Don’t remind me,” I mutter before I can stop myself. “Where did you hear that?” He’s been locked in this cell since the royal repast, shut out from the world, save for the executions below.
“Your guards gossip when they think I’m asleep.” He drops his voice in a mock whisper to add, “For what it’s worth, they think it’s a bad match.”
Don’t we all. Marriage has never been on my list of things to do, even when I was a spare prince. And to Saoirse, of all suitors … Thank the fates for separate bedchambers. I would never trust sleeping next to her. “Sometimes bad matches are the only ones available. My sister will come to realize that too.”
“Princess Annika, with her long blond curls and penchant for young men’s blood.” He twirls a piece of straw in his fingers, his focus to it. “I suppose I could do worse.”
“And she could do far better.”
He shifts and stretches out on his pallet, his arms cradling his head. “By all means, go and try to save Islor, King Atticus.”
I sense I’ll get nothing more from him today. That’s fine, I’ve gotten enough.
“Do enjoy your meals.” I saunter out, feigning ease with having a Ybarisan at my back.
Boaz strolls into the war room. “You called for me, Your Highness?”
“Yes.” I test the wax with a tap of my finger to ensure the royal seal has hardened. “I need this taken north to the rift. Official communication with Ybaris.” As opposed to using a chain of pigeons and covert messengers with scrolls up their sleeves, which may or may not succeed in delivering vital information. “It’s for the queen.”
“Immediately, Your Highness.” He collects the letter and studies it, as if choosing his words delicately.
“What is it?” I ask, unsure of his hesitation.
“The contents … I am wondering what it may contain.”
Because I haven’t discussed it with him first, he means. I’ve known Boaz since I was running around with a wooden stick for a sword, annoying my twin sister and envying my older brother. I have few constants left in my life. He is one of them, acting as a reliable advisor, as he did for Zander, and before him, my father.
But lately I feel like I’ve had too many voices in my ear, trying to steer my actions, and none of them have been particularly helpful. This decision, I’ve come to on my own. “I’ve informed Neilina that I have her son and will soon have her daughter. If she attempts to cross the rift with an army, as I strongly suspect she is planning, then it will be met with their body parts after a public execution, and I will make sure to tell them she could have stopped it.”
“That sounds … an effective threat.”
“It’s not a threat. It’s a promise. But I’m also offering her an olive branch. A marriage between Annika and Tyree.”
His brow furrows. “Is Annika aware of this?”
I chuckle, though none of this is funny. My relationship with my sister has always been tepid at best. Since Zander ran, she’s been outright hostile with me. “Not yet, but she will do as required, as we all must.”
But Boaz isn’t convinced. “Need I remind you that the last marriage pact with Ybaris did not turn out as planned.”
“I still have the scar on my chest to remind me of that, thanks.” I rub a hand over the spot where the merth arrow skewered me. To think it was the same caster who sent my parents to their death who rushed to heal me. “But the throne will go to Annika should I die before I sire a child, putting all of Islor within easy reach of Tyree.”
“And you’ll have Tyree scheming to ensure that happens from one side, while Adley schemes from the other. You cannot trust either of them, Your Highness.”
This is why I didn’t seek his counsel before the wax seal hardened. “I’m well aware of the risks, Boaz.” As well as the bleak reality. “I must keep Neilina away from the rift while we deal with this poison, and if she believes she can still gain power in Islor without waging an all-out war, perhaps this plan will buy us time.”
