"If I may speak boldly?"
"Please."
"She feared for your safety when you went to war. Of late, she's feared your return." Cerise's eyes met his with a fiercely determined stare. "She's been totally faithful to you, m'lord, and so has Carroway. I'll swear it on any relic. What you decide to do about the rumors is between the two of you. But please, if you mean to send her away, don't tell her just yet."
Tris moved quietly toward Kiara's bedroom, and closed the door softly behind him. Her long auburn hair was tied back in a braid, and her face looked drawn and pale against the pillow. Beneath the bedclothes, Tris could see the gently rounded curve of her belly. For a moment, he watched her breathe, gathering the courage to speak. "Kiara?"
She stirred, and turned her head toward his voice as he closed the steps between them. Her expression ran the gamut of surprise to joy to apprehension and finally, he saw a glint of fear. "Tris? Is that really you?"
"I'm no ghost, though I feel stretched thin as one," Tris said as lightly as he could. He took
her hand. "Cerise said you were doing much better. She told me what happened at the lodge."
He was unprepared for how fiercely Kiara gripped his hand. "Read my soul," she said, meeting his eyes. "I know you can."
Tris felt his heart begin to thud. "I don't have to, Kiara. I love you and I believe you. The palace ghosts told me-"
Her grip tightened. "Read my soul. It's the only way you'll know for sure. The only way you'll ever trust me-and the only reason you'll ever be certain about Carroway." Tris's gaze held steady. "I had already resolved to stay with you, regardless." "I don't want this between us. Don't make me beg."
Tris nodded, and reached out to lay his hand lightly over her heart. He felt the shift on the Plains of Spirit and he saw the glowing pulse that was Kiara's soul. He let his power and his consciousness slip against it, and for an instant, they were one. In that moment, he saw her memories, her fears, her thoughts. And he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she had never been unfaithful. He let her see his heart, the horror of the siege, the loneliness and worry, and the reckoning. The strength of her love for him washed across the bond, healing the ache of their separation. Tris knew that his feelings were equally clear to her, and he saw the reassurance ease the strain in her face.
Only then did he realize that he had been holding his breath. Tris relaxed as he gently disengaged, drawing back on his power. When he came back to himself, he saw that Kiara's eyes were shining with tears. "You know?"
He nodded. "I know. And I love you" He leaned over and kissed her, laying a hand gently on her belly. "Rest. I'll take care of everything."
Tris had barely closed the door behind him before Alle stepped toward him. She held out a box. "Carroway's friends found this when they broke into Crevan's office." Tris took the box and opened it carefully, catching his breath as he realized what it held. "The letters," he murmured.
"Yours and hers," Alle said quietly. "She wrote you every week, and she waited for word from you. Now we know why it never came."
Tris knew that pain all too well. He closed the box and handed it back. "There'll be time for us to read those when Kiara's well. Thank you." He turned toward the door, but Macaria ran to
him. To his astonishment, she dropped to her knees and threw herself at his feet. "Your Majesty, please! Don't let Lord Guarov kill Carroway!"
Tris winced, looking at Macaria on the floor. "Please, don't do that." He reached a hand down to help Macaria to her feet. "The ghosts met me on the road. I know all about what happened-and I'm going to do something about it." "Please, m'lord. Mercy!"
Tris's eyes hardened. "It's time for the court to hear from Crevan." Two candlemarks later, Tris adjusted the collar of his satin tunic and fastened on a heavy cloak of velvet edged in ermine. A hot bath had cleaned him up from the road. His blond hair was pulled back in a formal queue, making his newly-grown beard more noticeable. Tris had already decided the beard was worth keeping.
The court would be scrambling to comply with his command to assemble in the throne room with only two candlemarks' notice. Coalan bustled about, adjusting Tris's cape and fussing over his formal jewelry, then placing the crown carefully on Tris's head. Tris smiled grimly. Let them wonder about my reason for calling the court together. Just as well they're off guard. And for those who think they know what I'm going to do, they're in for the surprise of their lives.
Four guards, hand-picked from the men who had ridden back from the siege with him, surrounded Tris as he left his rooms and headed for the throne room. He could hear the buzz of conversation at the top of the stairs, but the voices silenced abruptly as a trumpet heralded the king's arrival. Before he moved into sight, he spoke to one of his guards. "Go to where Master Bard Carroway is imprisoned. Have him pack his things. When this is over, we'll see about his hand." The guard nodded and left to follow his orders. The nobles rose to their feet with awkward suddenness as Tris made his way to the dais at the front where his throne awaited. Always before, he'd eschewed the show of power a slow entrance made. Now, he understood the usefulness of increasing his audience's anxiety. The less sure they were of him, the more likely they were to reveal themselves. Two footmen removed his cape and laid it to the side, revealing the sword he wore. For this purpose, Tris brought Nexus. His grandmother's warning did not deter him, even if the sword stole another breath of his soul. This matter will be settled, once and for all. A large space separated Tris from the crowd, an area traditionally reserved for the accused
to make their pleas. To his right, in raised seats in the place of honor, sat the Council of Nobles. Acton and Dravan were present, their faces grim. Eadoin sat with them, and while she appeared even more frail than usual, Tris knew better than to underestimate her determination. Lady Casset fidgeted with a string of beads. It was impossible to read Count Suphie. Lord Guarov and Dame Nuray looked composed, even a bit excited. The herald signaled for the assembled courtiers to sit. "While I have been at war to protect Margolan from loyalists to the Usurper, certain charges have been made against trusted members of the royal household and the royal staff. You are here to see those charges answered and for judgment to be served."
Lord Guarov cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, is it not Margolan custom for the accused to be present at these proceedings?"
"And so they shall." Tris drew Nexus, and the runes on its blade burst into flame as it left his scabbard. With one swift movement, Tris brought the sword down with both hands so that its tip bit into the wooden floor. With a rush of air, a fiery circle swept out from the blade and Tris poured his spirit magic through the sword as an athame. On the Plains of Spirit, he sent the full force of his power seeking for the one soul that had gone to the furthest shadows to flee from him. Crevan.
In the spirit realm, Tris pursued Crevan's soul until he ran it to ground. Heedless of Crevan's pleading, Tris extended his magic and his power moved like ghostly talons, latching onto Crevan's soul and digging into its substance. Damn the consequences. Damn my soul. I will see you pay, and so will they.
Tris ripped open the boundary to the Plains of Spirit and flung Crevan's ghost into the warded circle shielded by Nexus's power. A collective gasp went up from the audience, and Guarov paled. Tris struggled to rein in his anger enough to extend a civil invitation to the spirits he invoked as witnesses. One by one, they assembled outside the circle of fire. Malae. Zachar. The three men whom Mikhail was accused of killing. The butcher's son. Ammond and Hothan. Bian, and the others who had gone missing over the last few months. The assembled nobles rose to their feet and the racket grew so great that it required the herald to sound a blast from his trumpet to restore order.