Chapter 40 Keris
Keris
“I need to get another message to Aren and Lara.” Keris paced the floor of his suite in the Sky Palace, barely noticing the expansive view out the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Extreme heights had lost a great deal of their appeal to him.
“If for no other reason than to get the news about Taryn to Bronwyn so that my sister doesn’t do anything stupid. ”
Saam sprawled across a sofa, disappearing into a pile of decorative pillows.
“If the Amaridians actually have Taryn, then Bronwyn might already know.” He dug himself out, then rolled on his elbow to regard Keris like a courtesan in a brothel.
“I’m not sending another member of your guard to deliver messages.
You have to wait for Adrius to return from delivering your first message. ”
“One more guard isn’t going to make a difference to my safety.” And Keris had no intention of committing any of this to writing given that everything he sent would be read by Alexandra’s spies.
Saam made a face. “It’s not about your safety, jackass. It’s that I want proof the Harendellians didn’t slit Adrius’s throat the moment he was out of our sight.”
It was a valid concern. Alexandra was well aware whose side Keris was on, and all the smiles and easy words about him serving as an intermediary could be lip service.
The Tempest Seas were notoriously dangerous, so it would be easy for them to offer up thoughts and prayers for endless missing envoys.
“Daria should be well on her way to Pyrinat by now, if not there already.” Saam gave him a long look. “What are you going to do if she brings back a message from Zarrah asking you to leave the Sky Palace and come home?”
“Zarrah won’t do that.” At least, not if his wife thought his presence was accomplishing something.
Unfortunately, Keris was feeling decidedly ineffectual.
Since arriving in Verwyrd and learning that Katarina’s spies had stolen Taryn from the Harendellians by force, all he’d done was serve as William’s favored drinking companion.
The king of Harendell seemed to have half forgotten he was on the verge of war, dragging Keris to endless horse races and then out to winehouses and brothels to drink until the wee hours, after which the king would sleep late, only to begin anew.
The idiot courtiers William surrounded himself with knew nothing and seemed not to care a wit about what might be happening in the south.
All that mattered was entertainment, women, and spending endless, endless amounts of coin.
It was not lost on Keris that with her son focused on carousing, Alexandra was able to exercise almost total control over the nation. “I need to get an audience with Alexandra.”
“You have a horse race to go to with Will and his chums.”
Spending any more time with William would accomplish nothing. “Get a message to his servants telling him that I’m nursing a hangover and still abed, but will join them later. When they go, I’ll find his mother.”
Saam shrugged, then extracted himself from the cushions. “All right. Stay put.”
Keris spent the next hour pacing his room, eventually ending up at the windows. They were broken into frames, one of the smaller set able to open on hinges to let in a breeze. Keris twisted the mechanism to open it, and then rested his hand against the frame to look out.
Verwyrd appeared tiny below, the figures moving in the streets little more than ants, and a wave of vertigo passed over him.
All his life, Keris had been comfortable with heights, even after Otis’s fall.
But ever since he’d nearly lost Zarrah to the fall that had taken Petra’s life, he’d no stomach for them.
Only under duress would he climb out this window, and even then, part of him wondered if he could do it or whether he’d freeze, panic sending him plunging to his death.
“Get over it,” he muttered, aware that this window might be his only method of accessing the rest of the palace undetected.
“Don’t fall out.”
Keris twitched, so lost in his own thoughts about heights and what happened to those who fell from them that he hadn’t heard Saam come back in.
“William and his friends have departed the Sky Palace,” his friend said. “Judging from the guards outside, Alexandra is in the king’s study.”
Protocol demanded he request an audience, but Keris only said, “Let’s go.”
With Saam and another of his guards on his heels, Keris wove through the Sky Palace corridors.
Servants bowed and curtsied as he passed, and he nodded politely at them without slowing his pace.
He reached the study, which was flanked by two soldiers in livery.
“I was hoping to take a moment of Her Grace’s time. ”
“Do you have an appointment, Your Highness?” one of them asked.
“It’s a matter most urgent.”
The guard gave him a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Unfortunately—”
He broke off as the door opened behind him, Alexandra appearing at the entrance.
“Oh, Keris.” She gave him a smile. “I thought I heard your voice. Please excuse the added security. Since the incident, Lord Cavendish has insisted on added precautions. Do come in.”
Keris followed her into the room, which was yet another example of Harendellian style. Comfort mixed with a thousand subtle signals that together screamed of wealth and power.
“Do sit.” She gestured to one of the overstuffed leather chairs. “Hazel, refresh the tea.”
“Yes, ma’am.” A young servant girl picked up the tea service and left the room, leaving Keris alone with the dowager queen.
Alexandra still moved stiffly, but the wound to her face seemed to be healing as well as one could hope, her smile twisted by what would be a formidable scar. She touched it absently as she settled herself across from him. “I had thought you off to the races with William.”
“I’m afraid I haven’t His Grace’s stamina for revels.”
Alexandra’s lips pursed. “We all grieve in our own ways, and for William, it is with distraction.”
“Understandable.” Except that William didn’t appear to be grieving in the slightest for the father he had hated. “I hope Your Grace is recovering well from your ordeal.”
“Slower than I might like.” She fell silent as Hazel entered with a fresh tea service, two other servants with towers of tiny cakes following on her heels.
They set the lot of it on the table, then poured tea for both him and Alexandra.
Keris balanced his saucer with practiced ease on one knee, sipping at the hot liquid.
Alexandra took her own delicate sip. “I heard you say to the guards that it was urgent?”
“My man has not returned from Ithicana,” Keris said. “I’d hoped you might have word about the well-being of Taryn Kertell.”
Alexandra set down her cup with slightly too much force, and it made a loud clink.
She winced. “Apologies. I just signed the documents allocating pension amounts to the widows of the men Katarina’s spies killed to secure Lady Taryn.
It is a painful business. But to answer your question, no.
Our spies have not seen any sign of her in Riomar.
” She waved her injured hand. “Perhaps when your messenger returns, it will be with word that the Amaridians have delivered Lady Taryn to Ithicana.”
There was an edge of accusation to her voice, and Keris glanced at his tea, reminded at how easily he could be dispatched with a drop of tasteless poison. “Aren didn’t order that attack, if that is what you are suggesting. Nor has he agreed to an alliance with Katarina, despite the rumors.”
“And yet Princess Bronwyn was seen in Riomar being hosted with all respect by Katarina herself.” Her tone was frosty. “We are aware of the relationship between Bronwyn and Taryn, and you’ll excuse me for finding this all very convenient.”
It was a damning coincidence, was what it was.
Not in a thousand years would Keris have advised Bronwyn going to Riomar if he’d known Katarina’s spies had already moved to liberate Taryn, because it screamed collusion.
“Bronwyn had not yet reached Northwatch when Katarina’s spies attacked your soldiers.
She has nothing to do with Katarina’s actions, although I will not lie and claim she won’t be relieved if Amarid delivers Taryn to her safely. ”
Alexandra’s expression hardened. “You take advantage of our hospitality in the name of mediation. Yet I find myself unconvinced that you act in good faith. Harendell has been injured, first by Ahnna’s outburst, then by her attack on our civilians, and then again in the liberation of Taryn by the Amaridians.
Edward, murdered. Me, maimed. Civilians, injured.
Harendellian soldiers, slaughtered. Harendell has done nothing but demand King Aren condemn his sister’s actions, but instead he chooses to seek alliance with our greatest foe. ”
The door opened without a knock, and Keris turned to see William appear, his arm slung around Adrius’s shoulder.
“Look who I found coming up the spiral,” the king said, the lightness of his voice not reaching his eyes. “His report seemed worth missing the races. How is that hangover of yours, Veliant?”
Keris didn’t answer, and William gave Adrius a push forward. Adrius bowed low, his uniform travel-stained and his face marred with exhaustion.
“Well?” Alexandra had abandoned Harendellian civility, her anger palpable as William circled the table to flop on the sofa next to her. “What does Aren have to say for himself? Has his murderous sister returned?”
Adrius’s eyes shifted to Keris, and he gave a slight nod, trusting that the man would know what information should best be held back.
“There is no word from Princess Ahnna, Your Grace,” Adrius answered.
“It is assumed she remains in the Blackreaches. His Grace, King Aren, will not condemn Lady Ahnna without first hearing her account of circumstances. It is hoped that, should Prince James arrest her, she will be given a fair trial and the opportunity to speak.”