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They all stood silent until Zeliha’s kahyalar arrived, a tempest of horse and armor, and they were bundled together and hauled back to the palace. Passing through the hunting camp, Kadou saw only pale, distraught faces of the cadets and servants. They were already striking the tents and packing things back into wagons.
Zeliha’s kahyalar led him to the throne room. It was a wide chamber floored in black marble; one of the long sides was open, framed by a series of archways leading out to a covered balcony that overlooked the city far below and the ocean beyond. The throne, an imposing couch wide enough for three to sit comfortably side by side, stood at the far end of the chamber, blazing gold and white on a raised platform, covered with an awning of thickly embroidered blue velvet, like a more decorated version of the tent at the hunting camp.
Zeliha paced before the platform and turned sharply toward him when her kahya pushed him—pushed him!—in front of her. One look from her and he cringed, drawing in small.
“What. Happened.”
“They thought,” he began, but his voice broke and he had to clear his throat. “They thought I was hurt. Dead.”
“Who?”
“My kahyalar.” He bit his lip. “It was just . . . sudden. It happened in—in seconds.” She said nothing, just looked hard at him, like granite, like fire. “It wasn’t Siranos’s fault, you mustn’t blame him. I saw a deer and gave chase, and Siranos was close to me, and his horse—something happened; I don’t know, maybe he lost his balance—I fell off Wing.” He gestured to his clothes, the dirt ground into the fabric, the leaves and grass stains. “My kahyalar were a little farther back. All they saw was the collision, and my fall, and they assumed the worst. But it was just an accident.”
“It seems awfully convenient,” she said quietly, her voice no less sharp. “No—it seems implausible.Bothsides of the story do.”
“I don’t know what else to tell you. Tadek—”
“Ah,” she said, “Yes. Tadek. Tadek, who you’re so close to. Let’s talk about Tadek, shall we?” She stepped up to the platform and sat slowly on the throne, drawing one foot up, resting her bent arm on her knee. “You said that you and he had stopped being lovers. Whendidthe two of you start getting close again?”
“We . . . we just walked by the pond at the kahyalar’s party, you know that part already,” he said. How much did she know? He should confess the rest. His tongue was like wood in his mouth.
“And what happened there?”
“We talked. He offered to come back to my rooms with me. I said no.”
“You’re leaving something out,” she snarled. “There’s a gap as wide as the sea between declining Tadek’s company for the evening and Tadek flinging himself at my lover and the body-father of my child and screaming about traitors.” She narrowed her eyes. “And I happen to know he had visited your rooms several days earlier, with no message from you. At least, not by any formal channels. It was his day off, and he chose to spend part of it in your chambers. So apparently you weren’t just getting close at the kahyalar’s party. You know, when you said you weren’t sleeping with him, I thought you might be . . . let’s not use the wordlying. Being discreet.”
“It—it was the night of Eyne’s birth. He saw the fireworks. He came to offer his congratulations, that’s all.” And instead of finding Kadou exultant, he’d found him having an episode, one of the worse kind, when fear came upon him so powerfully that there was nothing he could do but curl into a ball andshakeuntil his bones rattled. Maybe Tadek took things more seriously than Kadou thought. Tadek had reassured him, had dismissed all Kadou’s worries . . . Kadou had babbled everything just to try to make himunderstand—everything about Siranos’s own accusations of treachery earlier that night, about how Siranos had gotten physical—
“Tell me,” Zeliha said. “Does Tadek hate Siranos, or do you?”
“Neither,” Kadou choked out. “Neither! Tadek is not at fault—”
“If he isn’t, then you are. He was part of your guard. He was acting under your command, and now three people are dead, two more injured. Two horses killed in the fray, two more put out of their misery afterward. Now, whathappened?”
“Siranos,” he said. His voice was thick, his throat tight. His hands shook harder than ever. “It was when—when Eozena came to me at the temple, as I told you—the night there was the break-in at the Shipbuilder’s Guild, the night Eyne was born. I didn’t know what to do, so Eozena and I went to your offices—I told you that part too, and about how Siranos saw me there and confronted me.”
“Yes, I recall.” Her voice was cold. “What did you leave out?”
“He was saying all sorts of things. He thought I was interfering with something. He accused me of—of underhanded behavior for disloyal motives. He was frightened,” Kadou added quickly. “That’s all. He didn’t know why the kahyalar were following my orders—he’sOissika,he doesn’t understand about—”
“He’s not an idiot,” Zeliha snapped. “Why didn’t you tell anyone about Siranos’s accusations? Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you make Melek swear not to speak of it?”
After a long moment, he said, “I told Tadek. I was afraid. Just afraid, that’s all. I went back to my chambers, and Tadek arrived unexpectedly to say congratulations, and he made me feel better, and—and I asked him to . . . He was just trying to protect me.”
“So Tadek does hate Siranos.”
“No!”
“Whatever you said to him,” she said, slow and quiet. “Whatever you said about Siranos, it made Tadek ready to kill him for you. Not just willing, butready.Prepared.He was on edge, and it was because of something you said.”
“It’s my fault,” Kadou managed, finally. His mouth was dry. “Is that what you want me to say? It is. I know it is, I knew it was from the moment I saw what happened. But it was an accident, I swear it. Sister. Sister, I swear to you, I never wanted anyone to be hurt. By the heavens and the seas, I swear it.”
“And yet you kept secrets from me. You didn’t trust me.”
“I’m sorry.” He wiped the tears from his face. “I should have told you, it’s not that I didn’t trust you, but—”
“But what?”
