38. Isla
38
ISLA
“ I ’ll see you at supper,” he murmurs as he helps me to my feet, his tone as ravaged by nerves as his expression.
“Mind if I stay?”
He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my hoop before trailing down the side of my throat. “Of course not.”
I spear my fingers through his. “For better or for worse, right?”
He brings his forehead down to mine. “However much I appreciate having you at my side, the burden of the worst isn’t yours to bear.”
“We might not have exchanged any vows, but that doesn’t make me any less your ally and friend.”
“Ally and friend, huh?”
I smile. “With benefits.”
He stares long and hard at me again, his jaw working over words he never ends up pronouncing. Palms flush, he leads me toward a door that he unseals with his magic and which leads straight into the Throne Room. Voices are high. I distinguish Salom’s, but none of the others are familiar.
Nevertheless, the instant we step around the staircase, I recognize the faces attached to the unfamiliar voices: Lev’s parents. Their faces are as pale as the abounding stone, their eyes rimmed so red that their matching russet irises glow crimson, like those vampires from the Countess’s stories. Our irruption dials down the volume of the argument being had.
“Ekaterina, Bohdan, what brings you to my home?” Konstantin asks.
Lev’s mother—Ekaterina—glowers at me, her eyes reflective with tears. “Why is she here?”
“ She is my mate.” Konstantin squares his shoulders and pulls me closer. “Where else do you expect her to be other than at my side?”
“Her presence might prove providential, Kat,” Bohdan murmurs.
My brow quirks at his odd comment but then flattens when he finishes his thought.
“She can relay to her father what has happened”—his gaze lands on Salom—“who’ll mete out justice, if justice is forbidden to us.”
“Instead of underhanded slights, why don’t you explain what brings the two of you to my home?” Konstantin snaps.
Fresh tears course down Ekaterina’s pallid cheeks. “Salom just murdered our son!”
My attention vaults onto the blond general, who’s throttling the hilt of his sword.
“I did not murder Lev,” he grits out.
My ears begin to hum. Lev is dead?
“Start from the beginning.” Konstantin’s voice is low but no less resonant.
Salom purses his lips as though to contain his frustration at having to explain himself. “Our soldiers seized a sleigh full of explosives and shotguns in the human district of Voshna. The deliverymen confirmed the transaction was carried out by Lev.”
“They lied!” Lev’s mother grinds her fingers through her hair, her multitude of rings sailing like chiseled orbs of fire through her brown locks. “My son might’ve been worried about the company’s finances, but he would never have risked his life—or our reputation—for coin!”
“ Shh , my sweet,” Bohdan says, wrapping his arms around his wife’s trembling shoulders.
“Our son has been murdered, Bohdi!” Ekaterina steps back. “Murdered! And you expect me to hush? How on earth are you so calm? He’s your one and only child! Well, your one and only legitimate one,” she huffs under her breath. “Don’t you care at all that he’s”—a sob fractures her voice—“ gone ?”
Her grief frosts my core far more than the knowledge of lethal weapons in the hands of revolutionaries.
“Of course I care. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here, seeking justice,” Bohdan mutters, his gaze flicking toward the far wall, toward a Glacin guard.
The soldier must’ve borrowed the uniform from a more muscled colleague, because the jacket and trousers aren’t adjusted to his frame. When he catches me staring his way, he narrows his eyes. I’m guessing he isn’t a fan of me. Or is it shifters in general he doesn’t like?
Konstantin must’ve asked Salom for clarifications, because the general says, “I went to Lev’s home and interrogated him with salt. He insisted he never brokered any new deal and that the factory workers were lying.”
Ekaterina hisses. “Ask your general where the deliverymen are, Vizosh! Ask him!”
Salom pins her with a fierce glower. “I did not set fire to their sleigh!”
She flicks her trembling fingers. “Yet they’re dead! Dead like my son!”
“Why would I blow up evidence that served me? As for your son, when I left your home, he was alive. Ask Bohdan! He was present. Ask him.”
My mind tingles with a hypothesis; one I keep to myself for now.
Bohdan’s lids spasm. “I was dealing with the aftermath of the explosion, which destroyed the road as well as the Countess’s hedges and gate. When I returned, Lev was lying in a pool of blood, so no, Salom, I wasn’t present the whole time.”
“Where’s the body?” Konstantin’s voice is alarmingly quiet.
“Here.” Bohdan gestures toward the dais upon which lays a shrouded body. “Salom insisted on bringing him back here.”
Konstantin’s hand slips from mine. I don’t follow him to the raised platform, the same way I don’t step around Bohdan or his wife for an unobstructed view of the corpse. A peek under the sheet has my Ice King’s lips firming.
Ekaterina collapses onto her knees and drops her face into her open palms. Her wails grip my insides in a vise. Though her husband’s complexion is bleak, he doesn’t sob. He doesn’t rage. He merely studies his feet.
“My sister has visited Lev multiple times since I took his hands, hasn’t she?” Konstantin asks.
Bohdan’s gaze bounds off his boots. “To drop off poultices for his wrists and offer him companionship.”
“Could she have slipped into your home after Salom’s departure?”
Bohdan’s head rears back. “And do what? Kill my boy? She loved him.”
“I loved Alyona,” Konstantin murmurs, replacing the sheet and turning back toward us.
Ekaterina shakes her head. “I can’t believe you’d blame your own flesh and blood before you’d blame your general.”
Konstantin’s knuckles whiten as his fingers tighten around fistfuls of air. “I’m still trying to gather all the facts. Salom, swallow salt.”
The general does as he’s told without question. “Did the sleigh drivers tell you the shipment was sanctioned by Lev?”
“Yes.”
“Did you set fire to the sleigh?”
“No.”
“Did you command anyone else to set fire to the sleigh?”
“No.”
“Were you alone, or were there soldiers with you?”
“I had three soldiers with me.”
“Where are they now?”
“They remained in Voshna to carry out interrogations of all those in the vicinity of the sleigh and to keep an eye out for an intruder.”
“Did you cut open Lev’s throat with your iron sword?”
The tendons in Salom’s neck pinch. “I pricked his skin, but he was barely bleeding when I left.”
“Could you have incised deeper than you meant to?” Konstantin asks.
“With all due respect, Kostya, I know how to handle my sword.”
“Answer the question,” Konstantin snaps.
Salom shakes his head. “My blade barely penetrated.”
“Your sword must’ve been coated in iron powder!” Bohdan exclaims. “I hear you’ve used that trick to chew through your victim’s flesh in the past in order to make yourself look more gracious.”
The general’s jaw tightens. “I have used iron powder in the past, but never to make myself look more gracious; only to make sure the crown’s enemies couldn’t escape their fate.”
Bohdan’s nostrils flare. “You considered our son an enemy of the crown!”
“I did, but I didn’t bloody coat my sword in iron!”
“Could someone else have coated it?” I ask, garnering everyone’s attention.
“My blade is always on me,” he replies. “Besides, iron residue can only adhere to metal if the surface has been slickened beforehand. My blade was clean and dry.”
“So you say…” Lev’s father and the general glower at each other.
“By all means, check my scabbard, Bohdan.” Salom’s fingers shake as he unfastens the strip of leather. His puffing cheeks make me think he’s angry, but perhaps nerves are to blame for his unsteady grip.
“Could be anyone’s scabbard,” Lev’s father points out.
“Could the toxin of the bargain have killed Lev?” I ask.
“Toxins do not sever throats, Miss Ríhbiadh. My son’s throat was disconnected by a blade.” He crouches and delicately plucks his wife’s elbow. “Come.” And then the Voshnan Faerie is yelling, “Bundle my son’s remains! We’re done here!”
Men, who must work for his family since their uniforms are purple and not Glacin-blue, race toward the dais. Others race up the stairs.
“I want justice for our son,” Ekaterina croaks as she wobbles to her feet. “I want Salom punished! I want him dead!”
Salom’s mouth pops wide. “I did not?—”
Konstantin flings his palm up. I can’t tell if he uses magic to silence Salom, or if the man hushes at his signal.
“I’ll investigate. If there was foul play, you can trust there will be consequences, Ekaterina.”
She blinks bleary eyes at Konstantin, then shakes her head. As Bohdan follows his procession of servants up the stairs, he calls out over her shoulder, “Best of luck ruling your kingdom of cards, Korol!”
Salom hooks his scabbard back into place, then takes a step in the grieving couple’s direction, but Konstantin stops him, then instructs the handful of soldiers surrounding us to make themselves scarce.
Once we’re alone, Konstantin murmurs, “Salom, swear to me you didn’t intentionally kill Zaslofsky.”
The wide planes of his general’s face stiffen. “I did not kill Lev. Intentionally or unintentionally. If you don’t trust me, interrogate the soldiers who assisted me. Or better yet…” Salom’s eyes glaze. “Or better yet, the ones listening into his home… May they have been listening.”
My pulse skips a beat. “You also planted a listening sigil in his home?”
“Vance did.” Salom is smiling, which deepens the bend of his crooked nose and the shimmer of his eyes. He seems…crazed.
“Go get the soldiers in charge of surveillance and bring them down to the War Room.” Konstantin crosses his arms. “And, Salom, I forbid you from nicking anyone else’s skin without my permission. Am I understood?”
Salom’s amber gaze flashes with a mixture of hurt and resentment. “You’re understood, Vizosh.”
The vein in Konstantin’s neck distends at being called Your Highness by the man he considers family. Salom squares his shoulders before whirling on his heel and heading up the stairs. The sound of his footfalls seems to echo endlessly against the vaulted ceilings and stone walls of the Throne Room.
“May he find evidence or a culprit…” Konstantin’s knuckles are white against his black leather sleeves.
Would he dismiss Salom of his duties should the general be guilty? Force him into early retirement? Extradite him? Kill him?
“Ekaterina’s right.” Konstantin’s grave murmur ferries a chill down my spine. “I am ruling over a kingdom of cards.”
“My father thought the same when he took over Luce,” I remind him. “Unrest rocked Luce for years, but the dust did end up settling. And not over the king’s corpse.”
“We became kings at the same time.” Konstantin’s posture remains closed off, his gaze riveted to the stairs.
“When Dádhi rose to power the second time around, it was in the middle of a civil war. Your kingdom is not at war, Konstantin.”
“It’s on the brink of one.”
“The brink isn’t?—”
“I still had the favor of the High Fae, but after today, many will eschew me.”
Could that be the reason Lev was killed? So that Konstantin loses the favor of the last courtiers who still supported his regime?
To think we believed Lev complicit in Ksenia and Mestyla’s plot… But he was a victim of it, like so many others.
I close the distance between us. When my toecaps align with his, I stop, gaze darting around the Throne Room to make sure we’re alone before I ask, “Does Salom truly hate your sister?”
Konstantin’s eyebrows slant. “Which sister? Ksenia?”
I nod.
“Why?”
“Because none of your soldiers have been able to locate her or Mestyla, and who leads your armies?”
Konstantin’s pupils shrink.
“What if he killed them both but kept their deaths a secret to have someone to blame?” I muse.
His jaw hardens. “You sound like Aodhan.”
“Is that what he thinks?”
Konstantin gives me the faintest nod.
“It just seems so improbable that Lev, whom you compelled to stop selling weapons to terrorists, manages to defy the toxin of your bargain. He may not have been morally faultless, but he didn’t hate shifters.”
“Salom isn’t an antimorph, and the terror attacks started when I promulgated my shifter law. Not to mention that he’s been loyal to my family for longer than I’ve been alive. Also, your great-grandfather likes him.”
I sigh. “I know, which does give my suspicions pause. Perhaps the tavern going up in flames, Svyato’s deaths, Tiana’s, Lev’s…perhaps they’re all truly accidents.”
Konstantin’s fingers stiffen against the small of my back. “Who told you about Tiana?”
“Vance.” I roll my lips at the memory of the half-blood’s bright eyes and sweet laughter.
“No one could’ve guessed she’d volunteer to enter the Volkov’s shop. Not even Salom.”
“I heard she made the decision on the train ride up. Was Salom in the vicinity?” When divots form at the corners of Konstantin’s mouth, I worry I’ve pushed too hard. “I’m sorry. Maybe standing by your side is enough for him. Maybe my view is skewed by what happened in Luce five centuries ago.”
Konstantin is quiet for a while, lost in thought. “Anyone else you have doubts about?”
“Until today, I would’ve said no. At least, no one beside your sister and niece, and possibly Lev. But now…” I bite my lip.
“Now…?” he prompts.
“Ksenia once mentioned how attached Lev was to his mother. She never mentioned an attachment to the father.”
“They weren’t close. Ekaterina’s parents were so furious the day she decided to wed Bohdan that they didn’t attend the wedding and barred him from their family business.”
“I twigged that.” After a beat, I ask the question that’s been warming the tip of my tongue since Salom mentioned Bohdan had been present. “Could he have…?” I lick my lips, feeling like the words I’m holding back are outrageous and shouldn’t even be thought.
“Could he have ended his son’s life?” Konstantin’s throat jostles. “Anything is possible.”
Footfalls echo on the stairs. I think it must be Salom returning with news, but it’s actually Ilya with six soldiers. “Yuri apparently just woke up. I’m heading north to see him. The weather’s too brutal for flying. Can I take one of the trains?”
Konstantin glances toward his War Room, then back at his brother. After an extensive pause, he says, “Give Yuri my regards and convince him to convalesce at the palace.”
“Will do!” Ilya calls out, trotting toward the underground station, his diminutive garrison in tow.
“Why did you hesitate?” I ask, once the doors of the War Room shut.
“Because Milana took the other train to Voshna to avoid the incoming storm.”
Which leaves him with no means of escape should?—
He seizes my waist, pulls me closer. “Have I mentioned how much I’m looking forward to our date tonight?”
“Are you sure it’s a good idea? With everything going on?—”
“ Yegmenka ”—he nudges my nose with his—“don’t take it away from me.”
“All right.”
The air darkens with a shadow that takes the shape of a man. “Hope I’m not interrupting.” Aodhan tries to bury his anxiety, but it distorts his usual jovial timbre. “I just heard about Lev. What are you thinking?”
Konstantin sighs, gives my lips a peck, then urges me to go prepare for our date while he gets Aodhan up to speed.
I want to ask Aodhan to stay with him while I’m gone but worry Konstantin might view my concern for his safety as degrading. “Where’s Izolda?” I ask.
“Introducing Elio to her prized book collection.” He smiles. “She’s safe, Isla.”
As I make my way to my bedchambers, I remind myself that the prophecy unfolds outdoors. As long as my loved ones are tucked inside, they’re safe.
Right?