Chapter Seventeen #2
I couldn’t decide if the tone of his voice was apologetic or mocking. “Isn’t the past itself tragic?” The words slipped from my mouth.
I peeked at him and caught a frown forming.
“Did you attend the last Paravellian Balls five years ago?” he asked.
“No.”
“Interesting, what brought you to Paravellia for this year’s events?”
My fingernails embedded into my palms as I tried to craft the perfect response. He was digging. Searching for answers I couldn’t give him.
“My brother recently became head of the court,” I said. “He sent me as a diplomat to represent Allowyn in the hopes of securing better trade deals.”
“Such as?”
“That information is reserved for my kingdom and I.”
He shrugged, walking faster and forcing me to keep up with his long strides.
“What about you?” I asked.
“What about me?”
“I need to be aware of who I am striking an alliance with.”
He chuckled. “I am Prince Valeris, seventh in line for the throne, master of cunning and head of securing my father’s alliances. What more do you need to know?”
You forgot to include your arrogant jerk award, I wanted to say.
“Why did your father put you in charge of securing his alliances instead of one of your other siblings?”
“Because I’m the best.”
I had never wanted to slap someone more.
I ground my teeth together, biting back the insults grappling to get out.
“But you’re the youngest,” I said. “Surely your older siblings would have better sway and more experience.” I hesitated. “Or possibly even your uncle?”
Valeris led us onto a balcony, seating himself at a glass table and gesturing for me to join him. The wind tugged at my hair as I sat across from him.
“My uncle has no more political sway than the head housekeeper.”
My nose crinkled. I thought he and his uncle were close, but he apparently didn’t hold him in high regard. I leaned back, taking in the grand view of the city that the balcony offered. A servant placed two goblets on the table, filling them with chilled water from a pitcher.
“That’s a pretty condescending tone for not only your uncle but the brother of the king,” I mused, trying to tread carefully. “Your family must not care much for him.”
He shrugged. “Enough to allow him to live with us.”
I dropped it after that, afraid the prince might become suspicious.
But now I knew where his uncle slept.
“How did you find out about the murder?” The prince unsuccessfully tried to hide the curiosity in his voice. “Are there rumors circling?”
I took a sip of my water. “Rumors always circle from below, but this one came from the gambling dens and was traded for in secrets.”
The prince crossed his arms, lifting his chin and studying me like a conundrum. “How do you intend to solve it?”
“I have my ways.” I twirled the glass in my hands. “But first I need to know everything.”
His suspicious green eyes met mine, sunlight lightening the dark auburn of his hair and giving it the appearance of glowing embers.
“Let me make myself very clear,” he began. “I do not trust you, but I am willing to accept your help. If you so much as breathe a word of what I am about to share with you to anyone, I will make sure you receive the same mercy my eldest brother did.”
“Noted.” I didn’t even bat an eye. “Now, what happened?”
He walked me through the details, which matched the rumor’s account nearly word for word.
“The question is”—I lifted my glass to my lips but didn’t drink—“who would want your brother dead? What party would gain something from his death?”
He snorted. “You don’t think I’ve already asked myself those questions?”
“Oh, I know you have,” I said. “But it’s the answers you came up with that I’m interested in.”
The prince was intelligent. It radiated from his eyes and manifested in his carefully worded jabs, but his haughty attitude was nearly more than I could bear.
“No one person would benefit from his death. He didn’t live here in Paravellia, but if word got out one of our own was assassinated, it would weaken our influence and sabotage our trade deals.”
I should have assassinated his brother myself. It would have made my job easier.
I regretted the thought immediately, wishing I could take it back. My issue was with King Zaricor—not his sons.
No matter how spoiled and pompous one in particular might be.
“What kingdom would benefit the most from your fall?” I asked.
The prince ground his teeth together. “Literally any of them.”
I looked out over the city, taking in the vast expanse that spread before us. My finger tapped on the table as I said, more to myself, “But who stands to gain the most?”
Louder, I questioned, “Did your brother have enemies? Anyone who would have liked to see him dead?”
Valeris frowned as if having to explain something that should be obvious. “I haven’t seen my brother in over a decade. I’ve never met his children. My family’s connection to him was purely political.”
Ten years? I didn’t understand the disconnect his family seemed to have with one another, but I could only imagine, considering how horrible of a father they shared.
“So what you’re telling me is that you’re no help at all?”
He cocked his head. “No. I’m questioning how you consider yourself to be of any value at all when you’re even farther removed from this situation than I am.”
The corner of my mouth tilted up. “You have witnessed me destroy your alliance with Lord Eyreling and almost immediately get it back—that’s something. Not to mention I have connections you would never be able to make as a prince of Paravellia.”
His eyes narrowed. I hadn’t convinced him, but as long as I at least kept his interest, it didn’t matter to me.
“Was anyone in your family close with your brother?” I asked. “Siblings? Parents? Your uncle?”
I slipped the last part in, watching him closely for any reaction.
He mulled over the question before shaking his head. “He and my second oldest brother, Javamir, were somewhat close growing up, but I have no idea how well they kept in touch after their marriages. Uncle Wylan has never mentioned being close with Rivero.”
He knew his uncle as Wylan, not Alekvandor.
“Could your uncle stand to gain something by his murder?”
The question offended him, and I thought I might have been too obvious.
“My uncle is the most loyal man this kingdom has ever seen. He would never act for its destruction, or do anything against me or my siblings.”
I didn’t miss the pinpointed use of siblings instead of family. Maybe bad blood ran between the brothers.
“He holds no political gain,” the prince continued. “If every single member of my family was murdered, he would gain nothing, and I do not appreciate you insinuating such diabolical ideas about him.”
Touchy.
His earlier comment must have been a jest, because it was apparent he was close with his uncle. Very close—and he cared about him.
“I’m just trying to cover every possible lead. What about your other uncle, what was his name, Quintar? Could there be a connection there?”
The prince transformed into stone, his fingers gripping the glass tight enough I feared it might break. My next words died in my throat, taken aback by his reaction. He kept his gaze focused on the water, an icy glaze covering his eyes.
“No” was all he said, and I feared what might happen if I mentioned his other uncle’s name again. I swallowed, searching for a way to bridge the next question.
“Who is your father’s closest adviser?”
“The chancellor?” Valeris snapped out of whatever had taken him, and a strange expression I couldn’t read crossed his face. “Useless. Except for paperwork.”
I sighed. “Well, I need a little time. I’ll try to have something for you by the end of the next ball.”
He stood. “I think you mean you will have something for me before the end of the next ball.”
Footsteps approached and I stood as well, turning to find myself face-to-face with Richard Wylan Athello himself, formerly known as Prince Alekvandor.
He started upon meeting my gaze but then composed himself as if nothing had happened—but he did not take his eyes from my face.
I resisted the urge to squirm, growing uncomfortable beneath the weight of his stare.
“Uncle Wylan, this is Analleia Kallistar.” The prince’s voice sounded far away.
My brow creased as I felt like I couldn’t take my eyes away from Athello’s face, as if his stare held me in a trance.
“Yes,” he said. “I believe you mentioned her before. Where was it you said you were from, Analleia?”
My mouth went dry, my tongue feeling swollen and heavy. I forced out, “Allowyn.”
His eyes seemed to grow deeper, as if he were peering into my very soul. It felt like I was shrinking, the world growing larger around me.
“Uncle?”
Wylan Athello drew his gaze away, and I felt like I had been released from a spell. I looked at the ring on his right hand, the vines and leaves twisting around the opal stone set into the band. So close, yet so out of reach.
“If you’ll excuse me.” I dipped my head and hurried back into the palace, putting the safety of its walls between us.
My heart galloped as my hands shook. I clutched at my skirts, trying to get my hands to still.
I sucked in several deep breaths as if I hadn’t been able to breathe for the past few minutes, but it wasn’t from exertion.
It was from anxiety. From the way he stared at me.
Into my soul. Like he had bewitched me. This man whom the Enchantress had tasked me to steal from.
He knew something.
Based off the unsatisfied look on his face, he didn’t know exactly what.
But he knew something about me.
Potentially that I wasn’t who I claimed to be.