State of Sorrow (Untitled #1)(52)

Sorrow hesitated. “I… We’ll say his heart gave out,” she said after a moment. “That the events of the past two days were too much for him.”

“So you’ll blame Mael for it?” Vespus said.

“No, of course not,” Charon snapped before Sorrow could reply. “I’m surprised Lincel didn’t tell you that the official line on Harun’s absence from public life was that he had a weak heart – the result of his grief after the loss of his wife and son, made worse by the recent death of his mother. The Ventaxis family has a history of heart failure down the male line –” he glanced at Mael “– it’s what killed Reuben, if you recall. Sorrow’s suggestion is perfectly in line with the current message, and will save the face of the family without causing any more suspicion or fear in the people than is necessary.”

Vespus’s eyes darkened, but he said nothing.

Charon looked back at Sorrow. “I am sorry to ask this but if you’re ready, Miss Ventaxis, there are papers that you’ll need to sign to release funds for the funeral. You are the only living member of the Ventaxis family authorized to do so,” he added, earning himself a vicious glare from Vespus, and a surprised one from Mael, who again looked as though he might speak.

Charon spoke before he could. “Miss Ventaxis? The papers?” he said. “We need to send them to Istevar.”

Suddenly the message behind Charon’s pointed looks clicked in Sorrow’s mind.

Papers. Mael said Harun signed and sealed orders regarding Lamentia, but he hadn’t said if they’d been sent. Had there been other papers signed without their knowledge – papers declaring Mael his son and heir? And if so, were they still here? Was that what Charon was trying to tell her?

“I’d like a moment alone with my father,” she said.

Relief was evident on Charon’s face. She’d guessed right. “Yes. Of course. I’ll wait outside for you. Gentlemen.” He gestured for Vespus and Mael to leave before him.

As soon as she heard the latch fall into place, Sorrow rose from her stool, walked to the window and threw the curtains open, filling the room with light.

She went through his travelling cases first, ignoring how gruesome it was to be ransacking her father’s room while his body lay on the bed behind her. When nothing turned up there, she began to rifle through drawers, some of the clothes inside so old they disintegrated under her touch. She pulled the bottom drawers of the two chests out, to see if anything had been hidden under them. She explored the wardrobe, climbing up to search the top, and feeling underneath for anything that might have been taped to the bottom.

She got on her belly and crawled under the bed, searching every corner, and then, in an act that made her stomach turn, she plunged her hands beneath the mattress and felt the entire bed, trying to ignore the dead weight of her father resting above.

Nothing. If he’d signed anything declaring Mael was his son, it had already gone to Istevar.

Sorrow stood, and looked down at her father. She knew the rules of grief, knew that she ought to be crying. He’d demand it of her, if he could. Force a pipe into her hand and insist she martyred herself for him. She thought back to last night, to the last thing he’d said to her: Mael is here now. She’d wished him dead, she remembered. She hadn’t meant it. Not really. But now it had come to pass. The second time one of her wishes had come horribly true.

Sorrow gave the room a quick once-over before she allowed the drapes to fall back into place.

Charon, Vespus and Mael had remained in the passage outside, and they all turned to her as she left Harun’s room.

“Are you all right?” Charon asked.

“Yes.” She spared her father a final glance as she paused in the doorway. Already he seemed to be sinking in on himself; already there was a hint of decay in the room, something she hadn’t noticed until opening the door had allowed fresher air into the room. “I think we’ll need to move him, soon. It’s going to get warm in here.”

Charon’s mouth pursed and he nodded. “There are ice chambers in the cellars; we’ll have him taken there.”

“Can I see him too?” Mael said then, a bright edge to his voice. “I’d like to say goodbye.” When Sorrow nodded mutely, he strode past her, shutting himself in with Harun’s body. Sorrow met Vespus’s gaze.

And recoiled.

There was violence in his violet-coloured eyes, and in the faint curve of his mouth, horribly at odds with the situation.

“My condolences to you,” he said, the right words, the tone so very wrong. “To lose two parents, eighteen years apart, on the same day. What a tragedy.”

He bowed his head, then looked up suddenly, with the air of someone remembering something. It was so theatrical, so hammy, that Sorrow knew it was deliberate, and braced for whatever would follow. “And if memory serves me, today is your birthday too. Terrible. What are the chances? Still, at least you have your brother now.”

Sorrow was determined he wouldn’t get the last word.

“Yes, I do,” she said as she stalked past him, her legs shaking despite the lightness of her tone. “So save your pity for Mael. For he only has me.” She was barely aware of the hiss of Charon’s wheels following her as her heart thundered inside her.

She knew Vespus’s gaze followed her, and she was relieved when she turned the corner, out of his sight. She made her way back through the palace until she reached her own room.