There hadn’t been a chance that he’d leave Sara in that place.
With Dax carrying her meager belongings, Keris had ridden back to the palace with his little sister on the saddle before him, her fists clenching the edges of the cloak to protect herself from the wind. Conversation had been impossible over the noise of the storm, his concern all for guiding his laboring mount and not being blown off in the process.
The horse’s hooves made sharp clacks against the paving stones as he rode through the gates into the palace, dismounting first and then lifting Sara out of the saddle. An arm around her back and the other under her knees, he moved to carry her inside, but she jabbed him in the chest with one index finger. “Put me down.”
He dutifully set her down. Sara held out a hand, and Dax scurried forward with her cane. “Here you are, Highness.”
“Thank you,” she said to him, then made her way into the inner sanctum, each gust of wind threatening to send her toppling. Keris kept close, ready to catch her, but his sister only gritted her teeth as the storm lashed at her clothes and hair.
Instead of cutting left into the harem’s building, she pressed through the gardens, flowers and leaves from the shredded plants buffeting the group until they reached the shelter of the tower.
Servants immediately descended on them, whisking away sodden cloaks and handing over towels. Keris only wiped at his face, shoving strands of his soaked hair behind his ears before turning to Sara. “You may have your old room back in the harem’s house. I’m sure they still have all your dresses and things.” He hoped they did, at least. When he’d informed his father’s wives that he had no intention of marrying them, as was tradition, he’d also told them that they had the liberty to stay or go live their lives elsewhere as widows. Sara’s mother had been one of the first to go. She’d not requested to take her daughter with her, only her jewelry and gowns, and where she’d gone, Keris didn’t know. “Sara, your mother—”
“Has left Vencia.” Her chin trembled slightly. “Lestara sent me a letter.”
Lestara.
The youngest of his father’s wives had taken control of the harem after Coralyn’s death, and she’d made it clear she had no intention of going anywhere. Much to Keris’s dismay.
“It doesn’t matter anyway. You said that when you were king, I would come to live with you.” Her face was full of accusation. “You haven’t even visited me once.”
Bloody hell. “Because it was safer for you if I stayed away. Safer for people to—” He broke off, having been about to say that it would be better if everyone forgot she existed. Except to her, it likely felt as though everyone had. Including him. “I’m sorry. I should’ve brought you here straightaway. The servants will have your old room made up now.”
“I want to sleep in the tower.”
Keris blew a breath out between his teeth. “The tower isn’t a good choice. Better to stay in the harem’s house.”
Her skinny arms crossed. “Because I’m a girl?”
The tower was traditionally reserved for the king and his sons, but Keris hardly cared about that and was stomping all over family traditions anyway. It was the climb that concerned him. “The stairs…”
The glare his sister gave him was pure defiance, and Keris trailed off, shaking his head. “Fine. But you should know, I intend to sail to Ithicana as soon as this storm breaks to meet with Aren and Lara.”
Her defiance fell away, and tears welled in her brown eyes. “You’re leaving?”
Damn it.
Giving Dax a look that said he wanted space, Keris led his sister into one of the rooms that his father had used for meeting with those who couldn’t make the climb to the top. Closing the door, he led Sara to one of the chairs and then went to the sideboard, pouring two drinks. He stared at them for a long moment, then gave his head a sharp shake and dumped the contents of one into the other. God, he needed to sleep. What other excuse did he have for nearly serving whiskey to a child?
Going to the door, he leaned out. “A warm milk.”
“With honey,” Sara called.
One of the servants nodded, and Keris shut the door again. Taking the seat across from Sara, he swallowed a large mouthful of his drink before setting the glass on the table. “I need to travel to Ithicana straightaway. I meant to leave already, but the storm was too fierce.” She stared at him silently, so he pressed onward. “I need to speak to Aren. To negotiate.”
“Father never went to negotiations himself,” she said. “He always sent others. Why can’t you send someone else?”
“Because I’m not Father.”
Aren’t you? his conscience whispered.
A knock sounded at the door and Keris twitched, covering the motion by reaching for his drink. “Come in.”
The door opened, but instead of a servant entering, Lestara appeared. His father’s wife carried a tray with a steaming glass of milk and a plate of cookies, a throw draped over one of her bare arms. “Your Grace.” She dropped into a deep curtsey, the front of her gauzy dress cut low enough that, at this angle, he could see down to her navel. Annoyance flickered through him, and he pointedly looked away.
“Sara, we were so relieved to hear you were all right.” Lestara’s sandals made soft pats against the floor as she crossed the room, setting the tray down on the table. “And so happy to hear that His Grace has brought you back to live with us.”
“I’m going to live in the tower with Keris.”
Lestara laughed as though the idea of it were utterly ridiculous, tucking her blond hair behind one ear. “You must refer to His Grace by one of his titles now, darling. Circumstances have changed.”
Keris snagged the cookie that Sara’s fingers hovered over, giving her a warning glance. She tucked her hands into the fold of her wet dress, the childish greed in her eyes replaced with trepidation as she was reminded that eating in this palace always meant the risk of poison. “It’s fine, Keris,” she said. “I’m not really hungry.”
The faint growling of her stomach belied that statement.
“Sara may call me whatever she wants, because, as you say”—he bit into the cookie, marzipan roses crunching beneath his teeth—“circumstances have changed.” Picking up the glass of milk, he took a long swallow, nearly gagging at the sweetness. He hadn’t the training to taste poison, but it made his sister’s importance to him clear to Lestara. “Sara will take rooms in the tower.”
The daughter of a king, Lestara had been as raised on politics as he had himself, and she switched tactics without blinking. “Of course! It was presumptuous of me to think otherwise. As most favored sister, Sara deserves every privilege.” Slipping the blanket off her arm, she draped it around the girl’s wet shoulders. “I’ll order the dressmakers to come, as I’m sure none of your old gowns will fit, much less suit.”
Straightening, she met Keris’s gaze. “I’ve made arrangements for Royce’s care and eventual imprisonment, as well as ensured his mother understands that he brought his fate down upon himself, which she has accepted gracefully. I’ve also sent compensation to Greenbriar to pay for the sister’s service, as well as to repair any damages inflicted on the property during the incident.”
This had been the way of things since word his father had died in the battle of Eranahl had arrived in Vencia. Lestara running the household, much in the way Coralyn once had. It was a monumental task, managing the needs of so many, and not one Keris was well equipped to do, so he should have been grateful. Was grateful. But he also knew Lestara had an agenda, which meant every time she did something like this, it put his nerves on edge. “Thank you, Auntie.”
Annoyance passed through her amber eyes, but Lestara inclined her head. “Will you be joining the harem for dinner?”
He considered Sara, who was sipping at her milk, expression unreadable. “The family will have to forgo my presence tonight, but thank you.”
“You will be missed.” Lestara curtsied, then swanned out of the room, the door clicking shut behind her.
Keris slumped back in the chair, resting his drink on his knee. Not knowing quite why, he asked, “What do you think she wants from me?”
Around a mouthful of cookie, Sara answered, “To get in your bed.”
He jerked, nearly sending his drink crashing to the floor. “What did you just say?”
Taking a large sip of milk, Sara said, “I’m not entirely certain why, but all the aunties used to say Lestara wanted to get in your bed. I assumed you had a particularly comfortable mattress.”
Keris knew as well as anyone that growing up in this palace meant hearing things not intended for the ears of children, but that didn’t make it any more palatable. “Such things are not fit for your ears, young lady.” Then he frowned, a thought entering his mind. “What else did they say about her?”
“That Aunt Coralyn was grooming her.” Sara picked up another cookie, frowned at it, and then put it back in favor of one with more marzipan. “I never understood that, because the aunties have servants to do their hair, so perhaps I misheard.”
“No.” Keris bit at his thumbnail, more than one piece falling into place as he remembered past events. “You didn’t mishear.”
Coralyn’s strategies for the family, and for him in particular, were likely more far reaching than he realized. Part of him wondered if he’d be seeing the results of all the little strings she’d pulled for the rest of his life, almost as though she were still here.
Though in fairness, the rest of his life might not be long.
“Do you like being king?” his sister asked, and he focused on her, noting the cookie plate was now empty.
“Not particularly, but it’s better than the alternative.”
In the way of children, she didn’t acknowledge his answer, only asked another question, more softly. “What happened to Zarrah?”
Servants might well be listening. God help him, Lestara might be at the door listening, which meant the prudent course would be to shrug. Except he could see the interest in Sara’s eyes, knew that she’d been quite taken with Zarrah, who had shown his sister kindness and respect. Rising, he filled his glass and then went to sit next to her. “The Empress has sent her to a Valcottan prison.”
Sara’s eyes widened. “Whatever for? Zarrah is her family.”
This was dangerous ground. Sara was a child, and giving her valuable information put her at risk. Except if his enemies ever got hold of her, ignorance would not save her. “Serin told the Empress some things about Zarrah that she didn’t like. Things she thought made Zarrah a traitor to Valcotta.”
His sister’s face filled with disgust. “Lies. Zarrah told me of the importance of honor. She’d never do anything to harm Valcotta.”
“She didn’t betray Valcotta,” he said quietly, lifting his glass to hide his lips from anyone peering through a spy hole. “But she did choose to stop seeing the world in the same way as the Empress, who saw that as the worst sort of betrayal.”
“It’s not reasonable for her to expect everyone to think exactly as she wishes.” Sara held up her milk glass, mimicking his method. “She is an empress, not a god.”
“I’m not entirely certain she agrees, and Zarrah has been made to pay the price.” Setting down his glass, he rose, helping her up. “Lestara will have a room made up for you, as well as proper clothing brought so that you might change out of these wet things before dinner.”
Sara’s jaw worked back and forth. “May I go with you to Ithicana?”
Even if his intent had been to remain in Aren’s kingdom, he still wouldn’t consider bringing her. The Tempest Seas were too wild, too dangerous, and then there were the Ithicanians themselves… “Not this time. Perhaps during the calm season, arrangements could be made with Lara to visit her.”
Sara looked away, chin quivering.
She thought he was abandoning her. Which was fair, because, in a way, he was. “It’s not forever. I’ll be back.”
He hoped. There was every chance that he’d never step foot in Vencia again.
Guilt twisted in his stomach, along with the rising need to make Sara understand why he had to go. Why it had to be him. Keeping his voice low, he said, “If I explain my plans, will you keep them secret for me?”
“Of course,” she said without hesitation. Yet though she’d kept many of his secrets in the past, Keris’s throat still constricted. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to speak, his voice still low. “I’m going to Ithicana to ask Aren and Lara to help me rescue Zarrah from prison.”
His sister’s eyes brightened with delight. “Will you marry her?”
If only that were in the cards. “I will march armies to save her, and that’s all you need to know. Now do you understand why I need you to remain here?”
She nodded, and he helped her to the door. “Let us go find Lestara.”
* * *
“Read something to me,” Zarrah murmured, her breath warm against his chest. “Something about somewhere else.”
Keris blinked against the glow of the sun shining in the window of the stateroom, watching the endlessly rolling waves. “Do you want to be somewhere else?”
Her body shook with silent laughter, and she lifted her head to meet his gaze, her dark-lashed eyes capturing his soul. “No, but last time I let you choose, I was subjected to an hour on the history of coin making. I’d thought your voice could make anything interesting, but you proved me wrong.”
“My voice?” He lifted an eyebrow. “I hadn’t realized it was so intriguing.”
She rolled her eyes. “Please. You know precisely the effect it has.” Taking a deep breath, she lowered her voice in mimicry of him and said, “The first known coins were made from electrum, a combination of silver and gold, with trace amounts of other metals.”
“Hmm.” He furrowed his brow at her. “I understand what you mean. When you say it that way, it’s far more fascinating.”
Zarrah gave a soft snort. “I’m going to choose.” Rolling off him, she rose naked to walk to the chest of books where it sat in front of the stateroom door. The sunlight illuminated the taut muscle and feminine curves of her naked body, and Keris rolled onto his elbow to drink her in. The most beautiful woman in the world trailing her fingers over the spines of his books, searching for the perfect volume.
Why couldn’t this be for forever?
A shadow fell over the room, and he glanced from Zarrah to the window to discover the idyllic seas had turned rough, the sky dark with ominous clouds. “I think there’s a storm coming. The sky—”
He broke off, for Zarrah had turned, the books in her hands slipping to fall with heavy thuds, her abdomen pierced with a dozen knitting needles. She opened her mouth, and blood dripped down her chin as she whispered, “Why wouldn’t you let me go?”
Keris jerked awake, heart hammering and sweat slicking his skin, the room around him dark.
Just a nightmare.
Knowing it was such didn’t make him feel any less sick, Zarrah’s voice still echoing through his mind, the accusation always the same.
A draft brushed across his cheek.
Had he opened the window? Bloody hell, he needed to ease up on the drinking, because he could scarcely remember going to bed after dining with his sister. Sitting upright, Keris peered at the shadowed drapery across the room, but it didn’t stir.
Yet he could’ve sworn that he’d smelled the salt of the sea and the stink of the city on the air. Keris’s skin crawled, and he scanned the room, searching for signs of motion. Signs that yet another of his brothers had come to try to slit his throat. He instinctively reached backward to his pillow, fingers searching for a knife.
A knock sounded on the door.
He opened his mouth to tell whoever it was to go away, but then the door swung open. He’d forgotten to bolt it. What was wrong with him?
A hooded figure stepped inside, and Keris’s fingers closed over the handle of his knife, his body tensing.
Only for the figure to draw back the hood, Lestara’s face illuminated by the lamp outside the room.
“It’s the middle of the night,” he said, letting go of the weapon.
“I’ve been told these are your favored hours.” Lestara’s voice was a purr as she nodded at whichever of his idiot guards had let her pass and shut the door. She moved to a table and turned up a lamp, then walked to the foot of his bed, unfastening the ties on her cloak.
“Lestara,” he protested, but she ignored him, dropping her cloak.
And revealing her naked body underneath.
Shit.
Keeping his eyes fixed on her forehead, he said, “I thought I’d made myself clear, Lestara. I’ve no intention of marrying the harem, regardless—”
“Of tradition?” She smiled, finishing the sentence he’d said over and over since taking the throne. “I don’t blame you. Half of them are old enough to be your mother, and the rest are mothers of your siblings. But not me.”
She eased onto the bed, crawling toward him like a cat, her breasts swaying with the motion. Keris shifted backward, his shoulders hitting the headboard as he searched the ground for his discarded trousers, spotting them halfway across the room. Fuck.
“I’m the daughter of a king,” she murmured. “I was raised to rule, and I’m very good at it. Among other things.”
Her fingers latched onto the blanket, trying to pull it down, but Keris grabbed hold of the fabric. A battle ensued, which might have been comedic if he weren’t on the verge of panicking. “Lestara, you need to leave.”
She sat back on her heels, full lips pouting. “I have to say, with your reputation, this wasn’t the reaction I expected.” Not giving him a chance to respond, she added, “Is it because I’m not a whore that you pay with silver afterward?” Her slow smile returned, and she reached forward to trail a finger down his chest and stomach. “I can play whore; you’ll just have to pay me in gold and jewels. And make me your queen.”
Anger chased away his panic, and he batted her hand away before she could reach under the blanket. “Get out of my bed, Lestara. I’m not interested.”
The seductress vanished, frustration twisting her features. “Why not?”
Because you aren’t her. “You’re my father’s wife.”
“Silas is dead,” she hissed, “and I have a hard time believing that you care that I’m not a maid, given your proclivities.” Her eyes darkened with spite. “Worried you won’t measure up? Worried you aren’t the man your father was?”
The laugh that tore from his lips was bitter. “Nice try. Now get the fuck out of my room before I have the guards drag you out and put you on a ship back to Cardiff.”
Her amber eyes widened. “You wouldn’t… My father will have me killed for my failures if you send me back.”
The statement made him question just what the King of Cardiff had expected Lestara to achieve, but Keris shoved the thought aside. “Then it seems the choice is clear. Get out of my bedroom and go back to your own. Once there, you may choose whether you wish to take your jewelry and leave this palace to pursue your own ends or whether you wish to remain in this household as a favored aunt. But allow me to be abundantly clear, Lestara. You will never be queen of Maridrina.”
No longer caring that he was naked, Keris slung his legs off the side of the bed and strode to where his trousers lay in a pile on the floor. As he pulled them on, she said, “You’re a fool to cast me aside. You need me.”
“And why is that?” He buckled his belt, walking to the door because, evidently, words weren’t going to get her to leave. But her next statement froze him in place.
“Without me as an ally, you’ll return from Ithicana to discover you no longer have a crown.”
“Is that a threat?” he demanded, slowly turning.
“No.” Lestara lifted her chin, eyes full of defiance. “It’s a foretelling. Other than the rabble you dress in uniforms, no one supports you, Keris. Not the military. Not the nobility. Not even the people, who are coming to believe you are every bit the monster your father was. If you turn your back to go on this errand to Ithicana, mark my words, one of your brothers will stage a coup and take the throne.”
Nothing he didn’t know, yet for some reason, hearing it from Lestara caused his stomach to twist.
“But through me, you have the harem,” she said. “The daughters and sisters and nieces of the most powerful men in the kingdom and beyond. Our influence will sway them to support you, to keep your brothers in check, and to ensure the crown remains firmly on your head when you return.”
It was what his father had used them for. Why he’d married so many women over the years. Because marriage secured alliances and power. “Why? Why not wait until my back is turned and then choose one of my brothers and make this pitch to them? Why bother with me?”
Lestara slipped off the bed, bending to retrieve her cloak, which she donned before approaching him. “Because you’re the best of his sons, Keris. The only one of age who we trust to heal Maridrina and make it strong again.”
She was trying to make him believe the harem supported her actions, which Keris doubted. “Am I to assume that the price of this offer is marrying you?”
She hesitated, then said, “In Cardiff, on a child’s seventh birthday, a witch looks to the stars and sees the child’s fate. The stars said that I would be a powerful woman, a queen, and that my deeds would never be forgotten. They said nothing about living out my days in obscurity as a favored aunt.”
A story mapped in the stars.
Keris exhaled a long breath. For his kingdom, agreeing to wed her, or someone like her, would be the right thing to do. A strategic choice that any good king would make.
But he wasn’t a good king, and never would be.
“Not queen of Maridrina.” He twisted the handle on the door, swinging it open. “Please leave.”
Lestara stared at him, jaw tight, but instead of obeying, she said, “The book I gave you before you left for Nerastis. I want it back. It was a token of a sentiment I find that I no longer hold for you.”
Book? He blinked, then remembered that cursed book about stars and the stories they told. Zarrah had brought it to the dam with her the night they’d first been together. Had she thrown it in the spillway? His mind dredged up the memory of her throwing his coat into the water, but the book… That, she’d clutched to her chest. What had become of it after that moment, he had no notion. He’d only had eyes for Zarrah. “It’s in Nerastis.”
“All your things were brought back from Nerastis.”
“I’ll look for it tomorrow,” he hedged. “It’s the middle of the night; I’m not going to go rooting through my library right now.” Hopefully he’d get out of having to account for it by boarding a ship to Ithicana.
“If you have it, I want it back. Now.”
His temper rose, fueled by lack of sleep and irritation that she’d throw a tantrum over a book because she wasn’t getting her way. “I don’t know where it is, all right? It’s probably lost.”
Lestara squeezed her eyelids shut, twin tears flowing out from around them, and guilt instantly replaced his anger.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it meant so much to you.”
Silence.
“It’s fine.” Her eyelids opened, and no more tears gleamed within. “It’s better that I know the truth.”
Without another word, she left the room.
Rubbing at his temples, Keris said to his guards, who were looking everywhere but at him, “No more visitors. I need some sleep.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” one of them mumbled. “She…she said you were expecting her.”
“I’m not expecting anyone,” Keris answered, swinging the door shut. “Good night.”
He stood staring at the door for a long moment, then placed the beam in the brackets, ensuring that he’d have no more unwanted visitors tonight.
Turning down the flame on the lamp, he walked toward his bed, unbuckling his belt as he did. But as he was about to drop his trousers, cold steel pressed against his throat, and a female voice said, “Well, that was an interesting conversation.”