39
They were being interrogated in Malik’s chamber about their whereabouts during the coitus act of the Tri-Moon Festival, but many eyewitnesses testified to seeing the King of Adraali and the necromancer disappear together. The guards outside Malik’s suite confirmed seeing them enter shortly thereafter and admitted they were very certain they had not left the chamber during that time. Valine and Malik sat side by side on the bed, the four guards still standing in the room, Alastair and Cersei sitting on the blue velvet chairs, heads in hands.
Balchon, Tallulah, and Countess Magdalena were dead, and upon their corpses were corresponding notes.
My offer to He.
My offer to They.
My offer to She.
Valine felt herself blanch.
Jacira and Pandora were ensconced in the princess’s chambers under heavy guard, lock, and key. The queen was sequestered in her own, while King Jericho ordered interrogations and searches of rooms.
Valine was not stupid enough to leave her chest of weapons and poisons in her room. She had found a nearby secret alcove, a boarded-up entrance covered with a thick layer of dust and cobwebs, and had tucked it safely in there. And even should it be found, it did not bear her name, initials, or any other identifying features. It was a simple box with an iron padlock. The only weapons she kept on her person or in her room were those easily explained. Like her Desdemon blade and Malik’s gifted dagger. One was a family heirloom, and she used it as a letter opener; therefore, it was not ridiculous to see it on her writing desk. The dagger was for self-defense.
Besides, the murder weapons were not a dagger; it was an overdose, poison, and a bullet. Three different deaths for three different bodies.
One thing Talloh practiced that made it difficult for royals to get away with crime was the guardia. A force that was organized by the people of the kingdom. They were appointed by nomination and election, paid by a combination of the crown and additional taxes the people pooled together. With this organization, it made it difficult for nobility to hide their misdeeds and bribe when they worked in pairs and sought justice. To further discourage taking bribes, the investigators were tried yearly by the arachne, to discover if any ill intent or falsifications were made during their search. It was brutal, but it was effective, as those who handled the law must be upstanding citizens in all forms. Otherwise, the arachne would stake their wrath.
The guardia were conducting a full investigation into the deaths, but they confirmed it would be a difficult case due to the festival. There were too many coming and going, too many unaccounted for, too many motives. For every motive, there was an alibi. For every opportunity, there was a hindrance. The fact that it appeared sacrificial was more alarming to Valine than anything else.
It was clear from the investigating team that Valine and Malik were not involved in the crime and they wrapped up their interrogation with a nod of urging caution and a departing wink.
Alastair and Cersei departed with a somber look, the redheaded Runellian supporting the blonde who’d just lost two friends. Once they too left the room, Malik turned to Valine.
“It was you, wasn’t it?”
Valine stayed silent, her eyes flinty.
“Valine…” Malik’s eyes softened as he realized. “You didn’t mean to.”
“No, it’s not that. I killed Balchon. I poisoned his drugs so it would look like an overdose.” she admitted. “I bought some opium and laced it, then gave it to Hanish to slip into Balchon’s stash. He would’ve never known.” She paused fearfully. “But the notes and the others weren’t me.”
She didn’t know who could have placed the notes and done away with Tallulah and Countess Magdalena, or how they had prepared them. She assumed that Balchon had been found in relative seclusion and the first person to happen upon him was inspired. They used his death to appease their false gods, then decided to go for the full trio. But who?
Valine felt genuinely guilty for being a catalyst for Tallulah and the countess’s deaths. She’d liked Tallulah and she felt even worse when she considered Cersei—for having lost two of her friends. And while she didn’t know the countess well, she still felt bad. Because of some zealot, two people that shouldn’t have died had the candles of their lives snuffed out. And it was Valine’s fault.
“Do you think someone took advantage of the situation?”
“I don’t know for certain, but that’s exactly what I think,” Valine whispered. “But I can’t help feeling like this is going to come back around one day.”
“Then we’ll be ready for it. Sacrifices must be made, Valine,” Malik told her, cupping her face. His eyes held hers intently. “We will get through this.”
She nodded, and Malik placed a chaste kiss on her lips.
“Come to bed with me,” Malik whispered. “You need to sleep, and I don’t want you alone tonight.”
Valine agreed, slipping into her room to grab a silk negligee. She returned to find Malik in the bed, a pair of black satin pants replacing the formal attire from the festival. Valine climbed in beside him, settling her head on the turquoise pillow, the silk sheets like cool fingertips on her skin. She was facing Malik, and the king smiled at her. Sweetly. Disarmingly. Despite the fact that she’d revealed to him her greatest shame, her first betrayal, he still looked at her like this. Like she was the most beautiful and fearsome creature he’d seen, and she was his.
He touched the golden ring he’d placed on her finger, tracing it and threading their fingers together.
“I like seeing this on you,” he admitted.
“I like wearing it.”
Malik leaned into her, placing a tender kiss on her. It was slow, sultry and languid. Their tongues slowly glided against each other, a spark leaping between them, and their fingertips turned to kindling as their touches stoked the fire of their desire. He cupped her cheek, brushing her cheekbone with a thumb as he pulled back, the lavender moonlight illuminating the handsome king’s face.
“Goodnight, Little Liar.”
“Goodnight, My King.”
Breakfast was a somber affair. There was heavy silence where Valine and Malik dined in the Vesper Wing garden with Alastair, Freyja, and Sarim. The guards and aethermancers stationed around were all a part of the lack of sound. Valine added two slices of kiwi to her paltry plate, and though she was starving, under the funereal silence she thought it would be in poor taste to consume so much when they were respecting the crown princess’s mourning.
Valine hadn’t meant for it to be like this. She’d anticipated Balchon taking his drugs somewhere in the garden, passing out, and succumbing to the drugs, and that would be the end of it. Opium overdoses weren’t uncommon, and Balchon was too open with his recreational activities. But the fact remained that both the heir to a gambling empire and a blood-soaked mine were dead. Even if inadvertent and not by her own means. She was frustrated that the plan had gone awry and even more frustrated with herself.
This was why she didn’t work for royalty. It was complicated and messy.
No one spoke. They sat together quietly, pushing food around their plate. The Adraalian circle knew what was coming and so they had to play a part. None of them were truly that devastated, perhaps a touch of unease, but no desolation.
They were set to leave Talloh the next afternoon. The Adraali group was invited to the university graduation of Liesl Ryniel, second princess to the Thyccan Kingdom. One of Malik’s prospective brides. Valine couldn’t help the savage surge of jealousy that rushed through her blood. But she couldn’t think that way, and she was not done in Talloh like the rest of them.
It was a promise they could not break, even in light of three deaths. Valine knew missing the funerals was in poor taste but they had a previous obligation. With that being said, they weren’t the only group departing that day.
After the scene of breakfast was completed, the day passed somberly and quietly, and they all returned to their rooms, packing their belongings. The next day, Valine dressed for travel in black leather pants and an equally dark blouse. She paired it with a light travelling cloak of gray wool and her favorite thigh-high boots. Her hair was in a long tail atop her head, and when the servants arrived to take her belongings, she let them.
It was a mirror of the previous fortnight as they stood in the courtyard, facing the Tallohian royals, the king and queen stone-faced for entirely different reasons, while their daughter stood weakly, leaning on Pandora with red-rimmed eyes. Valine banished the pang of guilt that wormed through her. She was an assassin and a necromancer. She should be unaffected by death she wrought. Jericho stared at Malik with poorly concealed rage. The queen kept her gaze on Valine. On the woman the insanity-touched queen deemed a future ruler.
“I wish we were departing under happier circumstances,” Malik began, clasping his hands. He wore funeral gray in respect for the deaths. “We thank you for sharing your sacred festival with us and for introducing us so fondly to the Stygian Ones. I wish you nothing but what you so rightly deserve and that justice shall be meted.”
Jericho inclined his head, and Valine fidgeted, twisting her consort ring. The gold of her ring caught the sunlight, and Jericho’s eyes fixed on it. His nostrils immediately flared in anger. She was officially taken by the King of Adraali. His chosen one was chosen by another king.
“May I offer you the same salutations with equal intent,” Jericho sneered. “Your stay here has been completely eye-opening, and perhaps in time, we may repeat this event with different results.”
Malik held silent, his face unmoving. “I am sorry for your grief. The deaths of Balchon Raziche, Tallulah Illise, and Countess Magdalena were tragic losses, and they will not soon be forgotten,” Malik said as he curled his fingers in his clasped hands.
Valine felt lightheaded just as Jericho’s face transformed, rage overtaking him in a wild tantrum. “How dare you?” he spit venomously. “You worthless little bastard! You say anything like that ever again, and I’ll have your tongue cut from your whoring mouth!”
Everyone present startled. Queen Amaris took a step back, her summoned stars trembling, belying her fear. Malik reacted too, balking and stiffening his broad shoulders. But it was delayed. Valine narrowed her eyes at her king, assessing. She watched his form, every part of him, sensing something remiss.
“Jericho,” Malik said, cautioning. “What has come over you? Are you quite all right?”
“Do not presume to know me,” Jericho raged. “I am chosen by the gods, and you are nothing but a simpering bastard your mother spat out of her harlot cunt.”
“I would advise you to stop this line of transgression,” Malik commanded, regal calm covering the true fury that burned beneath the surface. His fingers twisted in rage, and he moved them behind his back.
It was then, as another wave of vertigo struck her, Valine realized she was wrong.
Jericho rushed at Malik, and the reaction was instantaneous. Sarim stepped in front of Malik, drawing a broadsword from his back. He stood tall and imposing as guards shifted and stepped uncomfortably around them. Freyja leaped forward, shattering the fountain with a sharp screech, her hands moving the shards of rock into a rotating cage around the King of Talloh. The blades of stone spun in a ritual-like dance as if Jericho were a fire primal witches spun naked around. Jericho stopped only feet from the edge of Sarim’s sword. The spinning rock the only thing keeping him at bay. Freyja’s brows drew together in concentration, keeping up the movement. It was showy, and it was precise, and it was more than effective.
“I believe we should now take our leave,” Malik offered. “I am regretful to discover that we could not find kinder terms to part on. My thoughts are with you and yours.”
“Fuck you,” Jericho snarled.
Malik smiled sadly, but Valine saw the smug truth beneath the fa?ade. As Malik clasped his hands together once more, she watched his index finger slip inside the hold of his hands, his thumbs altering position.
Malik was not fidgeting in rage.
He was performing magic.
The King of Adraali was a psychomancer.