Chapter XXII #2
Of course they didn’t. Though the Invers were more than comfortable with other people dying, preferably in ways that conferred some advantage upon them, they were singularly uncomfortable with the idea of their own deaths.
The Priest had made sure that Mortis was seen as a hungry and constant specter, looming over every soul equally and waiting to drag them into his realm.
Any serious displeasure on the god’s part (and by extension, the Priest’s) could drastically shorten the duration of one’s life.
“By the window,” Gaius said hastily. “Behind the desk.”
The Priest crossed the room, careful to keep half his attention on the spymaster and captain of the guard.
He did not think either would move on him, little though he was liked by them.
Bad enough to have the void left by a dead king to worry over—the role of Priest was traditionally far more trouble to fill.
His cane tapped against the leg of Orden’s desk, and then struck something softer and more yielding. Lowering himself to his knees, the Priest reached out.
Dully, he realized the truth. Until this moment, it had felt impossible.
But before him, splayed out on the floor of the king’s study, lay Orden Inver.
There was no scent of blood and no wound on him that the Priest could find, as he went over his brother’s body with practiced hands.
But there was a heady scent of summer wine on the air, suggesting poison.
The contours of Orden’s face were familiar in how closely they mirrored the Priest’s own.
He shut his brother’s eyes, noting how even after days on the road, with a new plan for domination to foment, Orden had taken time to shave.
He’d always been keen on appearances, telling the Priest when they were boys that half of your power lay in looking like someone who deserved respect.
Orden dead.
Gods, the Priest had dreamed of this moment. He’d planned it out a dozen different ways. Wished for it more nights than he could count. And now that his brother’s cooling body lay before him, it took him like a knife in the guts.
Biting back a choking sound of grief, the Priest squared his shoulders.
He muttered a few perfunctory prayers, moving his hands as if to invoke the gods.
Lucian and Gaius would have no idea that it was all meaningless.
Neither of them was remotely devout. Orden hadn’t really been either, when it came down to it.
If he believed in anything, it was his Priest and his wife and his guard, much good that had done him at the end.
The Priest swore under his breath. He and Ariana had known more powers than ever wanted Orden dead.
But so many had tried for him over the years and never succeeded.
The king had seemed invincible. If only the Priest had said something—warned Orden of the offer Gileta and Gwylen had made him, or found some other way to leave his brother more wary.
“They found Dolenza’s woman kneeling by his body,” Lucian said maliciously.
“The one who whored herself out to you at the naming ceremony. Ariana’s sworn a thousand ways it wasn’t the postulant who did this, it was her, but she’s protecting the cloister, no doubt.
How does it feel to have bedded the witch who killed your brother? ”
The Priest straightened, rocking back on his heels.
“Will you move against Raea’s house, then?” he asked.
“I’m not a king,” Lucian said with fine indifference. “It’s not my outlook. Gods help whoever takes the throne; they’ll have to decide. Much as I’d like to see those plains women burn, it’ll mean starvation for most of us if they do.”
The Priest pressed a hand to his forehead briefly. Whatever came next, it was going to be a nightmare. “Is anyone making a bid for the crown yet?”
“The rest of court is still locked down and will remain so until the question of succession is resolved,” Lucian said cannily.
“You and I have never been friends, but I think we can agree on one thing—none of us will benefit if Inverlyn’s turned into a battleground over Orden’s death.
I intend to keep the nobility under guard until a worthy successor arises. ”
“Justus is Orden’s heir by law,” the Priest said. “If no one takes the throne through force, it goes to the previous ruler’s closest blood relation.”
Lucian let out a hissing breath. “The Invers will never accept an infant king, no more than they’d accept a blind one.
I’m surprised you’re sensible enough to keep yourself clear of any attempts at the throne, though I suppose I shouldn’t be—you’ve always valued your own survival above all else, and you wouldn’t live out a week as Honoria’s head. ”
“As you say,” the Priest answered tersely. He got to his feet and stretched, but stayed where he was, standing over Orden’s body. He found himself loath to leave it, as if his once-formidable brother required a guard. “I’m no fool.”
“I’m frustrated by the nobility’s sluggishness,” Lucian admitted.
A small scuffling sound indicated that he’d put his booted feet up on the hearth fender, where he sat before cold ashes with Gaius.
“A generation ago, they’d all have had plans to move on an empty throne the moment it was vacated.
Though your father would never have let himself be killed before he had heirs ready to succeed him. ”
“Darias was a formidable king,” the Priest owned. “And Honoria was, if nothing else, stable while he ruled.”
“He’d have been appalled to see what his sons did with this place after he was gone,” Lucian said.
“Orden marrying a soria, you transporting houseless Corrinians through your dank little cavern just to spite your brother. Pity I could never find a way to prove you were at it—Orden would have flayed you alive on Tyrus’s altar for betraying his trust. He thought so well of you, he’d never have believed me if I didn’t have damning evidence.
But if I’d managed it—gods, he’d have been livid. He did so hate disloyalty.”
“A great pity, that you were never able to turn him against me,” the Priest said drily. “What are your plans for Inverlyn while we wait for the succession to sort itself out?”
“Well,” the spymaster said, drawing out the word and clearly enjoying his new authority, “as I’ve told you, the slowness of the nobility is cause for concern.
Every hour Honoria’s throne sits empty is an hour we appear weak in the eyes of our enemies.
Given your role as Priest, and our… differences in temperament and sympathies…
it’s possible one or two of the nobles might begin their succession bid if they’re able to use you as an emissary.
I intend to allow you to visit the court families who’ve been locked down, one at a time, in hopes of galvanizing them to hurry their attempts at seizing power. ”
The Priest leaned against Orden’s desk, one foot still nudged up against his brother’s body. “And what makes you think I could be the spark that starts the wildfire?”
“People at this court trust you,” Lucian said frankly.
“They don’t always like you, they don’t see you as an equal, but they trust you because you’ve proven trustworthy as Priest. They’re far more likely to take you into their confidences than me.
And once they do, you and Gaius and I can consider their plans and decide who’d best fit the throne. ”
“You are the last person in Honoria I’d ever want to play kingmaker with.”
Lucian laughed softly. “That’s as may be. But we’re not often given a choice in these matters. And I have something to offer as an enticement, which I don’t think you’ll be able to refuse.”
“Try me,” the Priest said.
“When the succession is secure, I will back you in requesting a quick death for Ariana, and in demanding your plains witch be returned to Dolenza rather than killed for any perceived involvement in Orden’s death.
Justus I can’t do much about—the child was dead the moment his father’s heart stopped.
There’s never been an Inver who would tolerate an infant rival to their reign.
I’ll push for a humane death, though—he could be a blood offering, made by your own hands.
As far as transfers of power go, this one will be measured.
Merciful, by our people’s standards. But only if you provide me with the information I want, on which of the nobles mean to try for the throne. ”
Everything within the Priest was revolting.
He’d never allowed himself to fall under Lucian’s nefarious sway before—it was hubris for the spymaster to think he might do so now, or to believe the Priest would view his promises as anything but lies.
If he was hastier and less self-possessed, the Priest would surrender to the overwhelming temptation rising within him and drive a knife into Lucian that very moment.
But Gaius was still captain of the guard and would have the Priest under arrest the moment his blade met Lucian’s heart.
Then what? A lingering death for himself and Fia and Ariana, followed by a civil war and another religious purge.
Anything but feigned compliance now would tip Honoria into the sort of chaos both he and Lucian were attempting to avert.
“We will make uneasy allies at best,” the Priest warned, because Lucian would expect no less.
“If the opportunity to undermine you arises, I will take it without a second thought. If the chance to kill you for my own advancement comes, I will seize it with relish, and know you would do the same. The moment Ariana and Justus have slipped easily into death, and Fia is back in Dolenza’s care, I will begin to plan your downfall. ”
“An uninspiring threat,” Lucian said easily, “and one I can live with.”