"And this is what you were discussing with Lord Jorani?"
The thinly veiled sarcasm in Peto's reply infuriated Mihael. He fought down the urge to beat some sense into the man. With Shaul sitting between them, Mihael would never have a chance to reach him. Mihael took a deep breath. "In part," he said, then plunged on. "Though you refuse to consider it, I also think she killed Marishka."
"What was her reason?"
"Because Marishka was going to marry you."
"She knew the marriage would benefit your family," Peto replied.
"Her family doesn't matter," Mihael said. Though he saw the disbelief in Peto's expression, he continued. "It's revenge she wants, and she got it. You loved Marishka, and Ilsabet took her from you. If you knew my sister as well as I do, you'd know that was motive enough."
"What did Jorani say when you told him this?"
Peto didn't believe him, would never believe him.
Mihael licked his lips, then wiped them with his hand. His heart raced as if he had been running, raced faster than it had last night when he faced Jorani. "He didn't deny it. Instead he said that they both hoped that I would one day rule Kislova."
"I see. Why did you draw your blade?"
"Because he lied. They're plotting against me just as they are against you. I'll be their next victim. I can see it in how she looks at me. I told Jorani that, but he said I had to calm down, to try to be reasonable and rational. My life and yours are both at stake and he would not let me come and warn you."
As he spoke the last few words, Mihael's voice grew louder, and there was a sharp hysterical tone to it. He pushed himself to his feet and walked around the table toward Peto. Always protective of his lord, Shaul drew his sword and placed himself between the men, using the side of the blade to hold Mihael back.
Mihael pressed against it and was flung back. To Peto, both men seemed overwrought, almost dazed by strong emotion.
"He protects you," Mihael said. "But can you really be so certain about his loyalty?"
"I am," Peto answered evenly.
The servant knocked, entered. "The baroness is here. Shall I send her in?" he asked.
Peto considered speaking to her separately, then decided it was best if brother and sister confronted one another in his presence. He nodded, then told Mihael to return to his chair. The young man didn't seem to hear him, and instead stayed where he was, shaking with rage.
Ilsabet entered the room. She wore a white morning gown trimmed in pink satin ribbons and a pair of delicate white sandals. Her hair was tied back, her face washed free of all powders and colors. She looked younger than usual, calmer, and far more beautiful.
"Hello, Mihael," she said as she walked past him, taking the chair he'd abandoned. Peto noted that Mihael backed away from her, as if she had ingested some poison that could harm him if she touched him. "You wanted to see me about what happened last night, I assume," she said to Peto.
He asked her to tell her story. She did, lying only about how she had heard the argument. She told him that she had been getting ready for bed when she heard someone fall against the wall separating their rooms. "I knew someone must be fighting in there. I was concerned for my brother so I found a guard."
"Your brother says you were less concerned about him than you were about what he might say to me."
Ilsabet frowned and looked at her brother. "I don't understand what's gotten into you, Mihael."
"All these deaths," Mihael replied. He wanted to end this once and for all. If he'd been armed, he would have fought his way past Shaul and stuck a sword in her heart. She deserved it for what she'd done. He'd undoubtedly die as a result, but it was better to go that way than to wait until she brought him down some night when his back was turned.
He thought of all the ways she could do it. His horse could spook as Marishka's had. He could drink from a glass with a poisoned rim. He could eat, could touch, could breathe, could…
His mind went round and round from one deadly scheme to another and another. As it did, his rage increased to such intensity that he wondered why Peto could not hear the beating of his heart.
"Mihael tells me you and Jorani wish to see him one day rule," Peto went on.
"Don't you?" Ilsabet replied. "Wouldn't Mihael ruling as your ally mean that you could finally return to Sun-dell? You've said often that's what you truly want."
"So I have," Peto admitted.
Why didn't Peto see what she was doing with those pale eyes and those long blond lashes that shaded them. Even the white dress had been deliberately picked to give her the guise of an innocent child.
"I'm disappointed," she said. "Unless he stops seeing plots everywhere, he'll never be able to succeed my father, and that would be the real tragedy."
"How dare you!" Mihael screamed.
Shaul moved close to him, ready to hold him back if need be. Mihael whirled. For an instant, they locked arms, almost as if they embraced, then Shaul flung him away and wiped his eyes with the back of one shaking hand. He looked at Mihael, his face flushed and ugly in its rage, then at Ilsabet-calm, serene, beautiful. She plays games with the lieutenant as well as the baron, Mihael thought. She has everyone fooled.
"A ruler has to be level-headed, Mihael," Ilsabet said patiently. "A ruler has to be prepared to fight real threats, not imaginary ones."
"This threat is very real," Mihael countered.
"In your mind," Ilsabet replied.
The tone she used, as if she were placating a small child, infuriated him more than anything she had done so far. His anger surged, and he reached across the table and gave her a hard slap on the face.
The act should have dissipated some of his anger, but instead it made it worse. He would have hit her again, harder, but Shaul wrenched him back. Mihael fought with more effort than he'd ever expended before, but Peto joined in. The two of them managed to wrestle Mihael to the floor but he continued to struggle, and they hit him until his face was bloody.
"Stop it!" Ilsabet screamed. She stood above them, her hands clasped in front of her. "You're insane, all three of you! Look, you've even opened his wound."
Peto pulled back and saw the bloodstains on the floor. "Let him go," he said to Shaul.
As Shaul obeyed, Mihael began pushing himself to his feet. At the last moment, he grabbed a knife that had fallen in the scuffle and lunged toward his sister.
Shaul flung himself between them, his own blade out to repel the attack. Mihael must have seen it, but he never stopped his forward rush.
He died quickly, struggling to his last breath against the men who tried to help him, while Ilsabet backed away as if hoping that her distance would calm him.
Jorani arrived just as Mihael died. Ilsabet gave a terrified cry and rushed into the comfort of his arms.
"You saw what he did," Peto said to her.
"I saw," Ilsabet whispered, pressing close to Jorani. "And it makes no sense."
"What happened?" Jorani asked.
"The man ran up my blade," Shaul said incredulously.
Baron Peto provided the rest of the story while Ilsabet sat beside him, her expression dull with shock.
SEVENTEEN
From the Diary of Baroness Ilsabet
I had not planned on this, so the grief I felt as I pressed against Jorani was real. I stood, swaying on my feet as they carried my brother away. Jorani's arms shook, and I knew he was as shocked as I.
Later, privately, Jorani asked me what part I had in the tragedy. I stood at his tower window, looking east as I had during my father's last campaign, his plans gone tragically awry as my own had.
"My brother keeps his hairbrush and mirror on a table close to the spy hole. While he slept, I managed to get a bit of the powder on his hairbrush. He brushed his wet hair. As it dried, the powder flaked off," I said. "I wanted Mihael raving, seeing plots all around him." I explained that I hadn't counted on the powder's strength, nor on Mihael's struggle with the lieutenant.