Last Stand (The Black Mage #4)(5)

The king’s angry gaze slid to his brother, and then he turned back to the advisor, his words growing cold. “We are to go to war in two months’ time. Your loose calculations could cost my men’s lives. Show your face in my court again and I will not be so kind.”

“Yes, sire.” The man didn’t hesitate. He was out of his chair and staggering out of the hall in an instant, with labored breaths and ruddy cheeks as he shoved past servants, musicians, and wandering courtiers unaware of his transgression.

“I’m sorry, brother,” Blayne said, once the volume of the room had returned once more, “but that needed to be done for the good of Jerar.”

Darren didn’t dispute his claim.

And that is why I never suspected a thing. Who could fault a king for actions that would save his subject’s lives? If he were cruel, it was because the alternative would reap a greater loss.

Only the truth could bring his deception to light—The fact that his actions weren’t necessary. The Caltothians were a peaceful people, and it was only by King Lucius’s greed and scheming that the rest of the kingdom and neighboring countries believed any different.

I shoved my plate away.

If I hadn’t had the stomach for the evening’s meal, hearing the other advisors now praise their new king’s dedication to Jerar was enough to make me sick. It wasn’t their fault. They didn’t know… or maybe they did? I had to wonder if Lucius had shared his plan with anyone besides his eldest? If Blayne had shared it with anyone besides the head mage of his regiment, Mira? The latter’s knowledge was probable, given her quick promotion following King Lucius’s murder—but were there others?

And then a new thought occurred to me: of all the king’s advisors, how many knew?

The room started to spin and I slumped back against the frame of my chair. What if they all knew?

“Ryiah?”

I had managed a ceremony, a two-hour procession through the streets of Devon, and a three-hour feast. I had withstood more than any person should ever tolerate in a known murderer’s presence. I needed to get away, if only for a couple of minutes.

I needed space away from everyone and everything. It was all becoming too much.

I turned to Darren and wove my fingers in with his. “I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed.” It wasn’t a lie, at least. “Do you think your brother would mind if I slipped away?”

The prince’s gaze never wavered from my face. “I’ll make your excuses. If Blayne takes issue with my new wife’s absence, he can answer to me.”

There was a tightening in my throat, and I made myself look away before I fell to my knees and spilled all my secrets out of shame. I didn’t deserve Darren in moments like this. A mumbled “thank you” was all I managed before I quietly left the table, the king busy in conversation with a visiting lord.

I wandered the halls, not bothering to admire the palace decor with its vibrant tapestries and gold-plated pillars. I’d seen enough of it in the months after the Candidacy. Everywhere I looked, sconces lit the way. I only wanted shadows. Even my dress was one bright flare of incriminating light with its cream yellow skirts and a gold and orange beaded bodice. The dress was the most beautiful thing I’d ever worn—or seen, for that matter—but the color was a constant reminder of just hours before and the revelation that came with it.

Ten minutes later, I found myself at the entrance of my chamber, which had been transformed over the course of an evening into a sitting room by the servants.

Gone were my oaken trunks and the beautiful cherry wood bed against the wall. Now there was a private table and cushioned benches to share with my husband. The only thing that had remained the same was the small adjoining room with its tub and chamber pot.

I wasn’t sure how long I stood there, staring. It was just one more thing that would never be the same.

With my barest casting, the flickering candlelight ceased, and I was ensconced in darkness. I reached around, not bothering to turn, and shut the door behind. My knuckles remained locked on the handle, holding it in place as my chest rose and fell, the mask crumbling away.

I held onto that door as time passed. Ten minutes, an hour? I lost count in the tears that followed. I was choking on air, and it made no difference. There was no such thing as time. A couple minutes here and there wouldn’t make up for everything I knew. They wouldn’t make up for the weight of the world or the crimes I intended to commit for the good of the many, but at the expense of a few.

I didn’t know how I was going to find the proof my brother had missed. I didn’t know if I could convince the rebels I had joined their cause when I was a part of the Crown. Even my twin didn’t trust me. And Pythus and the Borea Isles? How was I ever going to convince them to go against the New Alliance, the treaty Blayne had managed to secure following his father’s death and my marriage to his brother? How was a young woman supposed to convince a king and an emperor of two neighboring countries to betray a pact they had struck up with her country? Even if I came bearing proof, would they listen?

I should have drunk the wine, I realized. I’d never had a taste for it, but at least it would have numbed all these feelings. All this fear. It would have been something to push it all away, even for a little while. I had thought I would feel better in the freeing cover of darkness, but in some ways, the release only made it worse.