Kerrion glanced around at the gaggle of servants who stood blank-faced, absorbing every word, and mustered his poise. To allow Lerton to goad him into a public outburst would be ill advised, and was exactly what his brother was trying to do. Kerrion forced an indulgent smile.
"And you would dearly like to get your hands on it, would you not? No doubt you have regaled any who would listen with this ridiculous story. Be careful your desperation does not lead to anything that may be seen as treason, Lerton. I would not like to see my little brother on the gallows for making false accusations and spreading malicious lies about me. If there are any doubts about what happened in father's camp, let the courts accuse me. It is not your place to do so."
Lerton stood stunned as Kerrion turned away, then trotted after him again. "Rest assured, there will be an enquiry, brother. No one will believe that a woman killed father. Trying to blame it on the whore he slept with that night is folly. Your claim that she was a man is ridiculous. Many of the officers observed her that night, and none doubt her sex."
"That is what makes him so successful, idiot. How am I to prove the truth of my words? Would you have me call him as a witness?"
Lerton giggled, clearly delighted by this suggestion. "Of course that is impossible, since he does not exist. All the killers the Jashimari bitch sent failed, so you decided to do it yourself and blame it on some non-existent assassin who looks like a woman. That is a tall story for anyone to swallow. Could you not think of a better one?"
"Sometimes the truth sounds more far-fetched than the tallest tale, but that does not make it a lie."
"You had better start thinking of a better story than that. The council of judges will never believe such a ludicrous yarn."
Arriving at the door to his chambers, Kerrion turned to face his younger brother. Blade, he thought angrily, was too good at his work, so much so that the blame was now being laid at his own doorstep. "I have never been eager to sit on the Cotti throne. That has always been your greatest ambition. If I did not know that the Jashimari Queen sent that assassin, I might be tempted to accuse you of it."
Lerton blanched, stepping back. "I was here in the city when it happened."
"There are plenty of assassins for hire."
"None who would kill their king!"
"Not a Cotti, but a Jashimari or Contara assassin would be eager for the work. A simple matter of sending a messenger to find a suitable man. Everyone has a price, and you have access to almost unlimited funds, though not for much longer." Kerrion stepped closer to his brother. "Once I am King, I intend to restrict your powers, since you only use them for ill. Think long and hard about what you are doing before you incur my wrath. You may live to regret it, if you make an enemy of the future King. I would advise you to leave me alone right now, my mood is not good after the long journey."
Kerrion left his brother gaping at him, shocked speechless by this blatant threat. Before Lerton could muster his thoughts, servants closed the doors. Kerrion placed Kiara on her perch, then crossed the room to splash his face in a basin of water. The servants unbuckled his armour and stripped off the various royal trappings he had worn for his return to the city. Curtained doors on one side of the room opened onto the palace's inner garden, which spanned the area between the royal apartments and the harem on the far side of the square. A feast of fruit and cold meat awaited him on a table, and he went over to sample it as the retainers finished their tasks and retreated. With a sigh, he sat on one of the finely crafted wooden chairs and nibbled a grape, frowning.
The movement of a curtain caught his attention, for no wind blew in through the open doors. He froze, his hand dropping to the jewelled hilt of the dagger in his belt.
"Come out, or I will call the guards."
A woman stepped from behind the curtains, her eyes downcast and her hands bunched in her skirt. She retained much of her former beauty, though the years had ravaged her fine skin and whitened her pale hair. Kerrion relaxed, releasing the dagger. "Why are you hiding behind the curtains, mother?"
She shot him an apologetic glance from pale amber eyes. "I wished to speak to you, but when you seemed in such an ill mood, I thought better of it."
He considered her, comparing her submissiveness, which he had grown accustomed to, with the Jashimari Queen's haughtier and poise, disliking the comparison. "What did you want to speak to me about?"
"I came to warn you. Much has happened in your absence. Lerton, Armin and Ronan plot against you. They have already told the courts that they suspect you of killing your father, and have testified to your hatred of him."
"That is no secret," Kerrion muttered. "Many people hated Shandor."
"They have said that you were in league with the camp whore, and she drugged the King so you might kill him. Afterwards you went to Jashimari together to strike a bargain with the Queen."
"In which case I would not have returned. Surely the judges cannot think me such a fool? This story of Lerton's is implausible, it makes no sense."
His mother nodded. "And yet he will convince them, if not with the truth of his stories, then with the depth of his pockets. He is determined to oust you, and has grasped the perfect opportunity."
Kerrion frowned at the disturbing wisdom of her words. "You should not be here. I did not summon you. If the guards find you, there will be an uproar that I will have to deal with, and right now, I am not in the mood for an argument."
"Of course, you are tired, I understand. Do not worry, no one will see me leave." She bowed her head and folded her hands.
"See that they do not."
Patriss started to abase herself, but Kerrion waved an impatient hand, and she vanished amongst the curtains at the back of his bed chamber. He considered his vague memories of soft hands and a sweet voice singing lullabies to him in the darkness. At the age of six, he had been removed from her care and taken to the men's quarters, where a stern tutor had taken over the duty of rearing him. Menservants had washed and dressed him, and he had not known a woman's touch again until he was old enough to be allowed a concubine to warm his bed. He hardly knew his mother, and had been brought up to believe that women were inferior, too stupid to talk to and good for nothing but bearing children and giving a man pleasure.
Since his encounter with the Jashimari Queen, however, his opinion had changed. Not only was she remarkably intelligent, but also proud and strong willed, something he had not encountered amongst the humble Cotti women. She was not unique, he mused, for the chief advisor, Chiana, had been equally clever, though a little less proud. He wondered what it must be like to share a lifetime with such a woman, instead of the meek silence to which he was accustomed. His father had been a firm believer in the inferiority of women, taking every opportunity to revile or insult them. Yet beneath this arrogant exterior Kerrion had sensed a deep loneliness, an emptiness that had made King Shandor turn to drink and sports to fill his time.
Kerrion's problems had started at birth, when he had been the first son born to a wife Shandor disliked. The King's uncle had arranged the marriage, and Shandor had resented it, especially when his favourite wife, chosen for her charms, had borne a son just two moons later. Shandor had done his best to rid himself of his eldest, unwanted son by placing him in perilous situations. The first attempt on Kerrion's life had been when he was seven, and had recently learnt to ride. Shandor had given him a spirited horse and insisted that Kerrion master the animal. The Prince had soon found himself in a situation he could not control, when the stallion had bolted and thrown him. Luckily, he had escaped with only a broken leg and collarbone.
The next attempt had involved Lerton, who had pushed Kerrion down a well. A peasant had found and rescued him, and Lerton had received several light blows from his father's belt in token punishment. At the age of twelve, Shandor sent Kerrion to inspect a village ravaged by a deadly plague. Although several of the soldiers who went with him died, Kerrion did not sicken. At fourteen, he had been left on foot in the desert while out riding with his personal guard. They had camped overnight, and in the morning Kerrion had found himself alone.