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The reasons for talking to the spymaster had been mounting—the final, unknown counselor who voted for my child’s death, the question of where von Uster’s loyalties lie, that someone had talked about Zakhar’s murder, connecting it to Alexei and me, Yahontov being assigned to guard and report on me, tunnels under Tal, and a meeting with the rebellion. It is inevitable. Swallowing my reluctance, I sent a note, summoning him here.
Good people might have died last night because they followed me. I would not make their sacrifice meaningless by throwing away my life the very next day, and I had sworn to Mariska to keep Vanya safe. If something happened to her… My smile hardened. I’d already almost lost her too many times. I’d already proven I’d kill to keep her safe.
Someone had forced her into my life, and while I could not regret it, I would do my best to untangle her from the conspiracies. With me, she would never be free like she wished. I was too selfish to pull away this morning—too selfish to ever let her go—but I would do my best to free her from her other chains.
I pushed away the reports I should have been focusing on. They’d grown over the last two days. The pile surely contained urgent information and requests a responsible ruler would have handled before now. My father was neither dying nor recovered, so over the past three-days, he had sent those who clamored for the king’s attention my way. This included invitations to summer soirees and, ironically, proposed noble marriage contracts. I could not afford to ignore it all, for hidden between the polite phrases was information on trade deals and conspiracies. And each three-day, my father expected a report.
Instead of writing down what happened last night, I settled on the sofa, unbothered by the cold hearth and old memories, and clung to the too-rare happiness. I remembered easy days, when I’d smiled more than frowned, and despite being separated from the court, never alone.
I jerked awake seemingly a minute later as someone knocked on my front door. The clock said I had been out for a bell. Time was running like never before. In six bells, I had promised to meet Vanya. I needed to make those count.
“Enter,” I called while rushing to change my borrowed, rumpled clothes.
When I returned from my bedchamber, von Uster had settled at my table, pastries and a steaming pot of tea standing where I had left books and maps.
The spymaster sipped his cup, as comfortable as if we had met in his chamber.
His name revealed his Oberwaldian heritage, and I had no memory of his hair being anything other than gray, but the wrinkled golden skin and sharp, almost-black eyes were all Vsadnik. He had been a friend, or possibly more, of my grandfather’s, somehow clawing his way to the elevated position of spymaster before he turned thirty and stayed there ever since. Under him, the Roja had expanded. He was the man behind my father, and from his considering gaze, switching from the documents to me, he was not about to retire. Despite being the crown prince, fear rubbed at my nerves as I settled and poured myself tea.
“I expected you to call me sooner,” von Uster said, skipping the pleasantries.
I sipped before speaking, knowing he enjoyed keeping people on edge. “You already had someone following me, I assumed Yahontov would tell you what you wanted.”
“And that has changed?”
“He’s missing.” I swallowed my guilt. “If he was free to, he would have returned to the palace by now.”
The old man blinked, sadness tightening his face, then with a long exhale, it was gone. “I send you my best and they don’t return.”
Alexei. My gut clenched. “I asked neither to follow—”
“You should have,” von Uster snapped. “You’re the crown prince, barely a month away from becoming king. We protect the Crown. Perhaps if you had informed me in advance of your plans, their deaths could have been prevented.”
I closed my mouth. He was not wrong. He also did not consider the whole picture. “You serve my father. When he summons me, your Roja come to fetch. When I act, you whisper in his ear.”
“He’s the king.”
I sighed. This was not going as I needed it to. “I didn’t call you for a lecture. I have information to share—how much of this will my father hear?”
Von Uster grabbed a flaky pastry, honey and nuts crunching and sticking as he chewed, considering me. I finished the tea. Poured another. The clock ticked until the spymaster wiped his mouth.
“Marriage or not—soon you’ll be king. Your father is ill, and even was he as healthy as he was when he took the crown, you’d soon wear it. I never thought he would stay this long in Tal. That man never wanted to rule.”
“My father loves power. He’s only giving it up to get me to uphold the marriage contract with Oberwalden.”
Von Uster gave me a pitying look, and I felt like the naïve boy who just left the Tower again.
“The crown of Tal ties you to the city—or rather what lies below it—and while your father might enjoy power, he never enjoyed ruling any more than your mother. Not like your grandfather and grandmother did.” His face softened. “Your parents did their duty and hadn’t you messed up three years ago, I expect they both would be gone by now. Inessa on a country estate, living as she pleased, and Ivan always wanted to see the ocean. If your grandfather lived longer, perhaps they’d been skipped in the succession entirely.”
I stared blankly into the delicate cup, the picture of my parents rearranging. “My father will leave Tal to see the sea?”
“He used to talk my ear off about the family ships in Mjors. Would follow the ambassador around…” Von Uster sighed, eyes far away in the past.
. He had known my parents as children—as people rather than the King and Queen of Tal, like I never would. I had planned to kill my father as soon as I was crowned. Still did, for his dreams did not change how he had lived, but this one similarity between us, something he had never shared, hooked into feelings I did not want. Even when I held my knife at his throat, he had laughed. My tired eyes stung. How could von Uster see someone so different? Had the throne changed him into this and could leaving change him back into the person—the parent—I had wished he could be?
The tea swirled in the cup, my thoughts no clearer than the murky green. One mouthful, then it was gone, taking my ambiguous feelings with it.
“And if I would ask you, as your future king, for information and order you not to tell my father?”
