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I shivered. Oh, fuck him for getting me all worked up while I was stuck listening to half a dozen people arguing between themselves about whether a certain innkeeper was diluting his ale with water.
It was amidst that awkward tedium that a Quarehian man with frizzy black hair, hovering at the edge of the crowd, caught my eye. He was fidgety and harried-looking, sweating profusely and leaning against the wall as if he was going to faint, and yet hadnot bothered to remove or loosen the long, bulky coat he had laced all the way up to his chin. One of his hands was shoved deep into a pocket, while the other drummed a nervous rhythm on his thigh.
He glanced up, met my gaze, and quickly looked away again.
It wasn’t unusual for the citizens who made their way to these appearances to be anxious. Sometimes their pleas were a matter of life and death. But with Ren having restructured the appearances to be heard in order of priority, it made little sense for the man to be so worried about something less important than speculative allegations about watered-down ale.
I opened my mouth to summon him closer, and it was then that a vision hit me, abrupt and violent.
The man’s resigned expression; a twist of his lip that signified he was about to do something terrible. His hand clenching into a fist inside his pocket.
And then a deafening boom. High-pitched screams. The acrid smell of smoke and cooked flesh. Heat searing my face, melting the skin from my bones and my eyes from my sockets and...
Reality returned in pieces, my ears continuing to ring from the noise of the explosion that had not yet happened.
The court had fallen still and were staring up at me.
It took a moment to find my voice through the pain of the vision still scoring my body, and in that time the whispers had begun to echo around the room about how the seer magic had transformed my eyes. I knew that for at least the duration of the vision, they would have been blue and gold: symbolic, perhaps, considering those were the Aratorre family colours, but also entirely coincidental. The gifts of all Blessed manifested through random colour, but as religious as all Riehse Eshan nativeswere, they were undoubtedly already prescribing it some greater meaning.
My Sight wasn’t kept a secret from our people, but I supposed knowing your king consort possessed magic was different to getting to see it for yourself. There was a kind of fervent awe on the crowd’s faces that hadn’t been there before, their expressions lit up with veneration. The Blessed were as revered as much as they were exploited, and as nothing got in the way of a Quarehian telling a good story, I expected the recounting of my brief vision would soon transform into lightning blazing from my eyes as I foretold great upheavals and sacrifice.
“I have Seen,” I said, refusing to look back at the tense stranger and keeping my attention on the expectant faces of the remaining crowd, “that we are to take an early break for lunch and that the kitchens will provide free refreshment for all.” I turned to our herald. “Clementina, would you please check with the staff that they know the food which was to be served to me and my husband is to be shared among our guests, along with anything else they have to hand?”
She bowed, well aware that the kitchensknewno such thing and would likely curse my name for the last-minute direction, but also more than capable of ensuring they listened. There would certainly be enough food; our cooks always prepared to excess.
The black-haired man went rigid as the court dispersed around him. He shook his head and began to shove his way through the crowd, fighting against the flow of people to get closer to me and the dais. I saw the moment he realised his way was blocked by a line of guards, and how he screwed his eyes tightly shut as if to brace himself.
Fuck.No.
“Señor?” I blurted out, calling loudly enough to ensure he’d hear me. “Stay a moment longer, won’t you?” When he opened his eyes, I hurriedly waved him closer. “Yes, you. Let us talk.”
He was clearly suspicious of the offer, eyeing up my guards as if he expected me to order them to arrest him the moment the crowd left him unprotected. And if he’d presented a more mundane danger – a knife, perhaps – I would have.
I pretended to stretch, lifting my arms above my head as I cracked my neck from side to side. “Evacuate all rooms around and above this one,” I muttered to Morales behind me. Unable to wait for her confirmation, I pushed myself up from the throne and sauntered down the dais’ steps.
“Will you take tea with me?” I asked the stranger, forcing myself to keep my tone casual in the hope it might put him at ease. But this was a man with Dios knew how much black powder sequestered under his coat, who in at least one possible future was ready to blow us all to dust. There was noat easefor him.
I watched him watch me, many things going unsaid between us. But when I moved to within a few feet of him, putting myself between him and my guards at last, he seemed to relax, very slightly.
Yet his right hand stayed in his pocket.
*
Chapter Nine
“Over here,” I encouraged the stranger as the last of the court and their chatter departed, gesturing at the low seating and tables nestled at the back of the throne room. I seated myself without waiting for his response.
The man scurried close on my heels and took the opposite chair, ensuring he remained in proximity…yet firmly out of my reach.
“Nathanael,” I prompted.
“I know who you are, king consort.” The words were offered in a low mutter, filled with regret and exhaustion and a hundred other emotions I couldn’t begin to identify.
“And your name?”
He was silent.
“Come now,” I said. “Do I not deserve the name of my killer?”
