CHAPTER NINETEEN
WHERE THE BODIES ARE BURIED
Selva Sixmen only showed me one letter he received from the imposter Shadow Queen. He received it just before the start of the Tournament, two weeks ago, but according to Flynn, he’s been acting paranoid for months.
I thought it was strange that the note Sixmen shared from the imposter was so vague. There was no mention of what secret he’s being blackmailed with, and no specific demands.
Taken all together, I’m led to one conclusion: Sixmen has received more letters from the imposter than he let on. Probably because he didn’t want the real Shadow Queen to know what secret her imposter is holding over his head.
In preparation for today, I reviewed all my notes on Sixmen.
He has one son, Flynn; his wife, Neveah, died last year; he had a number of affairs while she was alive; he falsely testified in court to get a former friend thrown in prison for a crime he didn’t commit; and he once accepted a hefty bribe to vote for an order regarding taxes.
For all the secrets I know about him, there must be another, darker one he’s hiding. Something he thinks the real Shadow Queen doesn’t already know.
Which is why I had Luc request a private word with Selva, why I checked on Flynn to ensure he’s on guard duty at the base of the mountain right now, and why I’m currently standing outside the Sixmen residence, confident both of them are out of the house for the foreseeable future.
The outside of the Sixmen manor is gray stone. No tshira in sight, and no chance of me using magic to get inside.
I check the windows next, but unfortunately, all the ones on the ground floor are locked.
Which leaves my third strategy: knocking on the back door that leads into the kitchen.
No one answers.
After a long pause, I try again, more insistently.
An impatient-looking woman yanks the door open. She looks even more annoyed when she sees me. “Who the hell are you?”
Definitely not as friendly as Frida. Fortunately, my plan doesn’t require I talk to her for too long.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Before she can stop me, I lean past her, poking my head through the kitchen door and peering around, as though looking for something. I angle my body, blocking her view of the doorframe.
As she glowers at me, the hand hidden behind my back presses a scrap of leather drenched in paste to the doorframe, right where the bolt will slide home when she no doubt slams and locks the door behind me.
Once I’m sure the leather won’t slip, I pull back, twisting my expression into one of mortification. “I am so, so sorry,” I say. “I think I might have the wrong house. Could you direct me to—”
She slams the door before I’ve finished speaking.
It doesn’t matter. As soon as the kitchen is clear, I’ll slip inside. In the meantime, that leaves me stuck out here, seconds away from freezing my ear off, listening to the sounds of shuffling feet and clanging pots.
My instincts tell me the imposter Shadow Queen is Kaidren.
The timing can’t be a coincidence. He comes to court trying to beat out Luc for the throne, and around the same time, someone else starts blackmailing Honorate in my name.
There’s a connection. There must be. I plan to destroy Kaidren in any way I can.
First, by humiliating him in Eteria tomorrow.
Next, by exposing him as a blackmailer as well as a fraud.
After the longest two minutes of my life, the sounds of movement in the kitchen fade.
I wait another second. It’s still silent.
I inhale a lungful of wintry air, preparing. I’ll need to move fast. No idea how long the kitchen will remain empty, or what will happen if anyone finds me.
Gently, I nudge open the door. The leather in the doorframe has done its job, keeping the lock from fully closing.
I peek around the door into the kitchen. Empty.
Slipping inside, I peel the leather from the frame and close the door behind me as softly as I can.
I’m not familiar with the layout of the Sixmens’ house. I don’t know where the bedrooms are—or even if the bedroom is where Selva would keep blackmail notes—but I figure my best bet is to move up.
There’s a servants’ stairwell on the other side of the kitchen. I pause here, at the base of the steps.
No creaking or voices. A good sign.
I hold my breath as I dart up the stairs. The old wood groans. I wince, moving faster before someone comes to investigate.
As soon as I’m upstairs, I fling myself through the first door I see.
“Bel?” A woman’s voice echoes up the stairwell after me.
My hand claps over my mouth, holding in the sounds of my breaths, heavy from nerves and my brief sprint up the stairs.
The room is dark and silent, save for my muffled breaths. I wait, but the stairs stay mercifully quiet.
I keep my hand over my mouth as I look around. It’s a dressing room, by the looks of it. Yelina has one just like it. A whole room dedicated to things like clothing, jewelry, and mirrors. This one looks as if it hasn’t been touched in years.
At the other end of the room is a door. Hearing nothing on the other side, I open it to reveal a bedchamber. Selva Sixmen’s, I assume.
Portraits hang around the room. One of an older man, one of a little boy, one of a woman I recognize.
Selva’s late wife, Neveah Sixmen. She was one of the few Honorate wives I actually met because she was good friends with Yelina.
She used to hang around the Kyler house, laughing at Yelina’s unfunny jokes and drinking that disgusting tea Yelina loves.
I didn’t know her well, but I despise her on principle.
Anyone who finds my stepmother’s sense of humor tolerable must be awful.
I crouch alongside Sixmen’s bed and feel beneath his mattress. Nothing.
Next, I look through his drawers. I start with his bedside tables, then his dresser. In all, there’s nothing of note.
I cast a long look around the rest of the room.
Above the mantel hangs a family portrait.
Selva, Neveah, and Flynn, all smiling. Flynn looks much younger, but I know it’s him.
He’s got that mole above his upper lip and the signature haircut of a member of the decurio.
My gaze flits lower, to the two urns sitting on the mantle.
It gives me pause. One urn makes sense, for his wife’s remains. The other . . .
I open the lighter of the two. Shoved inside are crumpled sheets of parchment.
I unfurl one, and hold it up to the window to read.
Honorate Sixmen,
I am certain your behavior has Neveah rolling over in her early grave.
Let’s ensure the rest of Virdei never finds out how despicable you truly are, shall we? You vote against the order that will increase the number of decurio around Ophera, and I’ll keep my mouth shut.
It’s signed from the Shadow Queen but, as before, I didn’t write this. There are five more letters. All from my imposter, all that Selva kept from me.
Six letters total. I could stay here and read them all, but that’s foolish.
The longer I stall, the higher the likelihood I’ll be caught.
If I take them, Selva will know they’re missing, but considering all the efforts he took to keep them secret, it’s not like he can tell anyone they’ve been stolen.
Mind made, I shove the notes in my pocket and put my ear to the bedroom door, listening for approaching footsteps. Nothing.
I hold my breath as I creep out and back down the stairs. I don’t risk the kitchen a second time. Instead, I steal into the empty drawing room, unlatch the window, and climb out before anyone sees me.
You’ve followed the rules well. If only your fellow Honorate were so obedient.
There is another order on the agenda tomorrow.
If it passes, there will be two dozen more soldiers sent to the Opheran border.
You will ensure it never passes. Vote in opposition.
Convince your fellow Honorate to follow suit.
If it passes, I do not care who is at fault, I will blame you. I know what happened to Neveah. If this order passes, the rest of the Republic will too.
With each note, my heart sinks lower. They each demand Selva oppose an order, each vaguely mentions something awful he did to his wife, and each commands Selva to block an order that would provide more security to Ophera.
Any attempt I’ve made in the past few months to send soldiers to the Opheran border, my imposter has forced Selva to oppose.
That in and of itself is concerning. But there’s something else weighing on me. The imposter never explicitly states what terrible secret Selva is carrying, but they each imply that perhaps Neveah didn’t simply die—perhaps she was murdered.
Honorate Sixmen,
That title will only apply until the next council meeting.
The next time the Honorate convene, you will announce your intentions to retire the position. I have decided you are no longer fit to lead.
Feel free to argue, Sixmen, but we both know the consequences if you fail to do as I say.
Stars in hell . . .
I wasn’t expecting that.
Months of threatening Selva, all for the imposter to force him to resign anyway. It doesn’t make sense. What’s the point in gathering secrets of a man who doesn’t have the power to do anything?
If Selva truly murdered his wife, he’ll have no choice but to do it. It will cause a stir. He’s only in his forties. Far too young to quit. No one is given power only to throw it away. Especially the Honorate.
I smooth out the final note.
Honorate Sixmen,
Tell me, did they ever find your wife’s body? A shame.
I know they found the body of Arliss Vale. If you refuse even one of my demands, I assure you, they will find yours exactly as they did his.
If you don’t believe me, I can tell you how he died. Arliss Vale was killed by a poison called kishori. If you aren’t careful, so will you.
Tell anyone, and you are next.
The parchment flutters to the floor.
I hardly notice, too wrapped up in my own horror.
My imposter has been busy. Blackmailing Selva Sixmen, blocking all my attempts to provide more security to Ophera, and—most terrifying of all—murdering Arliss Vale.