Chapter 52 Keris
Keris
The news of Prince James’s death had spread through Harendell like wildfire, and it rendered all of Keris’s labors to undermine Lestara for naught.
Traitor and murderer she might be, but that was old news compared with Ahnna having slain the beloved James.
Alexandra and her ladies all returned to the black gowns of mourning, but in a war of propaganda, the dowager queen now had an extreme advantage.
Whether it was because Alexandra knew she’d neutered his threat, Harendellian propriety, or the simple fact that she didn’t care if he remained, no one pushed Keris to leave Verwyrd.
And though he knew there was next to nothing that he could achieve by remaining, Keris didn’t pack his bags.
He knew better than to allow Lestara inside his head, but the trouble with the truth was that it wasn’t just his weapon to wield.
As the nobility descended on Verwyrd for yet another royal funeral, Keris had conversations with many nobles with trading interests in the south.
Which, in combination with what Saam and the others learned from guards and grooms and servants, painted a picture in which his return to Pyrinat would be far from celebrated.
“The storms have been foul this year,” Saam muttered as he circled the room with Fiona, the tiny dog sniffing away in her endless hunt for poison, though she’d yet to yield results.
“Lots of ships lost, and those who choose to run the gauntlet between the continents are sailing wide because the winds are rarely as bad out in the open sea. But it adds weeks onto the journey, and not all cargo can be so long in transport.” He reached down to pat the dog on the head.
“I suppose I never realized how much we depended on the bridge.”
Keris knew. From Teraford north to Cardiff, merchants counted on the safety and reliability of the bridge.
The blockade didn’t just frustrate rulers, it destroyed livelihoods, and without coin, people lost everything.
Including their lives. “Why don’t they understand that Harendell is behind the blockades? ”
“They do!” Fiona jumped at Saam’s retort, and he murmured soothing words to the dog before adding, “They do, Keris. The trouble is that everyone thinks Harendell is just. They blame Ahnna. They blame Aren and Lara. They blame you, because everyone knows your bias toward Ithicana. It’s perceived that you are putting your own interests first, never mind what it costs everyone else.
It’s…it’s not improving your reputation in Pyrinat. ”
It was all going from bad to worse, but Keris couldn’t help but ask, “Have you heard anything about Zarrah?”
Saam shook his head, then unfastened Fiona’s leash. The little dog leapt onto the large cushion that Saam had purchased for her and curled up, either content that there was no poison in the room or content to watch Keris die.
“Not directly,” Saam finally said. “The rumors are that she’s grown reclusive. Arjun and her ministers of office are running the nation. The whispers go both ways. That she’s looking to get rid of you or that she’s unwilling to accept your steepening descent from grace and no longer cares to rule.”
“It’s all bullshit. No matter how she feels about any of this, Zarrah would never hide in a corner.” Which made him sick with fear that something might have happened to her. Except that Arjun was loyal to his daughter. He wouldn’t be able to hide his grief if she—
Keris shoved away the thought, unwilling to even consider it. “She has to be planning something. Maybe something secret to aid Ithicana. Zarrah wouldn’t…she wouldn’t walk away from Aren and Lara, even if she wanted to walk away from me.”
“Which she doesn’t,” Saam said softly. “Keris, you’re an arrogant asshole with more confidence than ten men combined. Don’t let Harendellian propaganda undermine your certainty in Zarrah.”
Easier said than done, given that he’d left with angry words between them. Easier said than done when he knew he was a burden to her rule.
The door opened and a servant carrying a tray entered. “A message from His Majesty.”
Saam took the folded paper and waved it beneath Fiona’s nose before handing it to Keris.
I’d have your company. I grow sick of courtiers.
W
Other than platitudes at James’s funeral, this would be the first time that Keris had spoken to William since the king had almost stabbed him through the heart. Pulling on his black coat and smoothing back his hair, Keris went in search of the king, Saam following at his heels.
Dozens of voices filtered out of various rooms from the guests who remained after the funeral.
But the noise of women laughing drew his attention.
As he approached a set of doors to a sitting room, which were flanked by guards, a servant exited, the slowly closing door revealing Lestara surrounded by more than a dozen ladies vying for the queen’s attention.
A memory of something she’d said to him filled Keris’s thoughts.
Through me, you have the harem. 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.
For better or worse, Coralyn had trained Lestara, and she was taking advantage of the distraction of James’s death to secure new alliances with Harendellian noblewomen. Fighting her own war, and entrenching herself so deeply that nothing he or anyone else did could root her out.
The prince’s death had been conveniently well timed.
Which was not to say that Keris didn’t believe James was dead, because he knew it was likely.
Just as it was probable that Ahnna had killed him, albeit in self-defense.
It just struck Keris that Alexandra had known James was dead long ago and had kept back the information for a moment when she needed to bolster her cause, much the way a general kept forces in reserve.
As to whether the dowager queen had been involved in James’s death… that was hard to say.
Reaching the king’s study, he waited for the guards to announce him, and then muttered to Saam, “Wait here.”
William was alone in the room, his black-clad form rendering him little more than a silhouette before the window, but he turned as the doors closed with a click.
“Good to see you, Veliant. No hard feelings about that nick I gave you, right? I was deep in my cups and a man has to defend his woman. You understand that, right?”
“Already forgotten.” Keris inclined his head. “Again, I am sorry for the loss of your brother.”
“Not you too.” William scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Everyone has been filling my ears with James this and James that and oh, we must avenge James. Even in death, he’s the favorite.” His green eyes locked on Keris. “You know what that’s like, don’t you? With your brother?”
It took every bit of self-control Keris had to keep the disgust off his face as he said, “Brothers. My father had a habit of telling me every time one died that he wished it had been me.”
William huffed out a loud breath, then moved to fill two glasses. “If my father was alive, that’s surely what he’d say. He told me all the time that he wished James was his heir.”
Because James was his heir, Keris thought, but he only took the glass.
“It’s not that I’m glad he’s dead. Jamie…” William pressed a hand to his face, fighting tears, but then his breathing steadied. “I loved my brother. I wish he was here, but part of me wonders if it’s better that he’s not. Everyone will take me more seriously without James to compare me with.”
People would take him seriously to his face, because he was king.
His word was law, and all of Harendell would have to behave.
But behind his back, no one would ever respect this man-child who spent his days gambling and reveling while his nation readied for war.
Alexandra would make all the decisions, and everyone would know it.
Keris could already hear the insults. Suckling Sovereign.
The Coddle King. The Swaddlelord. No doubt the common folk would come up with even more creative terms in time.
“We received word from Riomar that the Beast of Amarid is dead,” William said. “I do wish James was alive to have heard that. Those two hated each other. I always thought James would be the one to kill him, but I’m glad he wasn’t. Would never have heard the end of it.”
“Do you know who killed him?”
“Apparently a nobody who escaped the prison and got lucky with his blade. Though I daresay, the only individual in Amarid who’ll mourn Carlo is the Crimson Widow.” He snickered. “Now all she has left is little girls as heirs.”
For a man wholly under the control of his own mother, William held little respect for the prowess of women, but Keris refrained from commenting.
Silence stretched between them.
“You understand that I can’t let this go, right, Veliant?” William finally blurted out, then downed his drink. “I wish it was just Ahnna who had wronged us, but Aren’s made such a mess of things. Can’t you convince him to give up so that we don’t have to do this the hard way?”
“Probably not, no.” Keris stared at his drink, trying to think of what he could do that might prevent war the moment the calm season arrived, but he felt as though he’d played all his cards.
“That’s a shame.”
A knock sounded at the door, then it opened and a Harendellian guard stepped in. “Excuse the interruption, Your Grace,” he said, bowing low. “But a Valcottan messenger has arrived who wishes to speak to His Highness.”
William gave a loud snort. “Let me guess. It’s your man Adrius back from Ithicana to inform us Aren still thinks he can cling to his throne.”
“Not Adrius, Your Grace,” the soldier said. “She said her name is Daria, and she brings word directly from the empress.”