“Kilmorda is in ruins,” Tiras said, pinning the gathering with his black gaze. “Lord Kilmorda and his family are dead. The Volgar have been pushed back, but they’ve left behind destruction. The people of Kilmorda have fled to Firi, some to Degn, a few to Corvyn, though it is harder to access due to the mountainous terrain. The valley stinks of rotting corpses, and the waters are tainted with death. Unless you want all of Jeru to share the same fate, you will leave your political machinations for another time.”
“But Your Majesty, that is why we are here,” Lord Gaul insisted with cloying sweetness. “I think I speak for Lord Corvyn, Lord Bilwick, Lord Bin Dar, as well as myself, when I say your leniency on the Gifted has given rise to these attacks. The Gifted have fled north, and they have bred with beasts, giving rise to the monsters that now attack Jeru.”
“One would think that if I were truly lenient on the Gifted they would have no reason to flee. Wouldn’t they just stay here if I am so welcoming?” Tiras snapped.
“They must be destroyed, Majesty. And you have failed to destroy them. Now they rise against us with the Volgar. Lord Bin Dar stood beside Lord Gaul. Slowly, one by one, every lord was standing, including my father. Those of us who had no influence or title remained seated. I fought the urge to stand once more.
“How do you know this, Lord Bin Dar?” The king leaned forward, his arms bracketing the plate of food he’d hardly touched. “I have been in Kilmorda fighting winged beasts, killing them by the hundreds, and I’ve never seen what you allege.”
“We have questioned the Gifted, Your Majesty,” Lord Bilwick shot out, his voice a self-satisfied sneer.
“What Gifted?” The king’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“The Gifted we’ve captured, of course. The Gifted in our own provinces. Before they are put to death they are questioned. Extensively. They all tell us the same thing. They are in league with the Volgar,” Lord Gaul supplied smoothly.
Satisfaction rose from Lord Gaul, Lord Bin Dar, and Lord Bilwick like the cheap scents the vendors sold at the weekly bazaars. Their line of attack had been clearly orchestrated. My father exuded greed, his avarice creating a stench almost as thick as the plotting of his fellow lords.
“You’ve captured and tortured people, your own citizens, until they confessed to your allegations,” the king bit out.
Lord Bin Dar’s oddly-shaped brows rose until they disappeared into the sweep of his black hair. It was a flat, bluish black, a color achieved through tonics and dyes, and it only succeeded in making his pale face look older and more lined.
“Your father, King Zoltev, struck down Corvyn’s wife without a trial . . . over nothing more than a kerchief fluttering in the air!” His hand mimicked the fluttering with an effeminate wiggle of his fingers, and he sighed as if the memory pained him. “At least we allow the Gifted trials before we put them to death.”
Deception. Blame. Power. Destruction.
The words made a thick soup in the air, and I wasn’t sure which words belonged to whom. My head began to swim, memories of my mother, of her blood on the cobblestones, of her body pressing into mine as she breathed her warning into my ear. I closed my eyes and bowed my head. Lord Bin Dar’s voice echoed oddly, like I was submerged in water.
“The people are losing confidence in you, Tiras. The council is losing confidence in you. If you will not protect Jeru from the Gifted then we must protect Jeru from you.”
The king’s eyes narrowed, and something dark skittered across his face. His jaw was granite, and his hands gripped the edge of the table so hard the ends of his fingers were white like talons.
“I see. And who will protect all of you from me?” the king hissed, his eyes glowing fire. Lord Bin Dar blanched, and there was a collective gasp around the table.
“We are simply concerned!” Lord Gaul huffed. “It is our responsibility, our duty as Council of Lords to see that Jeru does not fall into enemy hands.”
“It is my duty as king to vanquish Jeru’s enemies. Whoever they might be.”
“We will reassemble in one month’s time. If the Volgar have not been defeated, the lords from every province will ask you to relinquish the throne. Corvyn is next in line, so Corvyn will be king. You will be Lord of Degn, a member of the Council of Lords, but you will not be king,” Lord Bin Dar shouted, and the protests and dissent, along with cheers and jeers, rose as well.
“Corvyn is in line for the throne upon my death, and only upon my death. Do you mean to kill me? So far your attempts—all of your attempts—have failed. You have sought to take my life.”
“You have taken my daughter!” My father cried out, finding his courage amid the clamor.
“And I intend to keep her, Lord Corvyn,” Tiras roared, and my father visibly quaked even as my insides trembled. “I intend to keep her close by, to keep her next to me at all times. She will drink from my cup and eat from my plate to protect me from your poisons. She will sleep beneath me and hover over me and never leave my side. In fact, I leave in three days for Kilmorda, and she is coming with me. She will ride in front of me, astride my horse, clinging to me as I go into battle, a human shield against those you send against me.”
Heat rose in my cheeks, and flames licked at my breast. I spelled out the word I-C-E, focusing on the slick, cold shape of the word, building a frozen barrier between my heart and the roaring cauldron in my chest, willing myself not to flinch, not to care that I was a pawn in a very dangerous game.
“If I die, she dies,” Tiras said, just like he’d said the day he took me from my father’s keep. I’d confessed so easily. I’d told the king my secret, my father’s secret, and he used it without compunction. I refused to release the words that bubbled inside me. The king would not have my words. He was no different from my father; neither loved me and both used me for their own purposes. I suddenly hated them both with a fury that blinded me. I didn’t even need to close my eyes to keep them out.
When the king took my arm and rose from the table, I rose with him without resistance, but I kept my face blank and my eyes unfocused as he dismissed the gathering, dismissed the lords and their ladies who retreated obediently, quietly, their words blurred and their thoughts tangled. Lord Bin Dar and Lord Gaul were already plotting—I could feel their icy contempt and their intent to betray even as they bowed in obeisance. My father, who quivered in fear and doubt, his emotions bouncing off my icy façade like tiny bubbles, followed behind them, and he didn’t look back.
Tiras took me to his chamber and left me with Pia, who helped me remove my gown and take down my hair. She was breathless and beaming as she pulled a pale white shift over my head, as if I were being given some sort of honor, sleeping in the king’s room. She didn’t know that I was simply a weapon. A tool. There were guards at the door once again, and I could feel their tired thoughts.
But I didn’t try to escape. I had nowhere to go.
I lay on Tiras’s giant bed, the bed where I had soothed his fevered skin and slept at his side once before, but he didn’t return. I heard him arguing with Kjell in the hallway, but he never came inside. I’m sure they thought I couldn’t hear, but words managed to find me, whether I wanted to hear them or not.
Kjell was against bringing me to Kilmorda, against my presence in the castle and my nearness to the king. “You should banish her. She’s dangerous, and she can’t be trusted,” he argued.