Chapter 39
Smoke drifted from tall burners in the corners of the reception chamber.
Tariq sat at the head of the crescent-shaped table, dressed in a blue robe trimmed with orange thread, the same formal robe his father used to wear when greeting foreign dignitaries.
His mother sat at his right, wearing colour again, her mourning clothes finally packed away.
The Slevaborg delegation sat opposite, wearing their bold national colours.
Their spokesman, a fox-faced man named Hadrik, had spoken at length about trade, tariffs, and piracy in the southern passage.
Tariq wondered if they mentioned the piracy in every court they visited, just to keep people afraid.
He listened with the detachment of a man observing a game he didn’t care to play.
‘We received your correspondence regarding next month’s reduction in supply,’ Hadrik said, his stare meaningful. ‘We trust this is temporary and Gruisea’s commitment to the empire’s supply chain has not been impacted by the transfer of power?’
Tariq held his gaze. ‘Gruisea remains committed to Gruisea. We have some internal reforms underway.’
Hadrik leaned forwards. ‘Such as?’
‘For a start, our mine in Ashwaq will soon be decommissioned.’
A short silence followed, and Tariq made no effort to fill it. It was better to let everyone sit with the discomfort.
‘That site accounts for a quarter of your limestone output,’ the younger envoy said, as if Tariq was unaware.
‘The yield is declining.’
Hadrik shifted atop his cushion. ‘I suspect that is because the number of workers has been reduced.’
‘Children,’ Tariq said. ‘Children have been removed entirely.’
Farrah cleared her throat. ‘His Majesty was eager to see them return to their education.’
‘And, of course, the men also now have more flexibility, including the option of pursuing other occupations.’
Hadrik made a low, thoughtful sound, as if tasting something. ‘We understand the pressures of domestic change. However, sudden drops in output have a ripple effect, and Slevaborg has infrastructure projects and deals in motion throughout the empire.’
The audacity to mention those deals—the ones Gruisea should have been making directly.
‘We’ll negotiate new quotas.’ Tariq’s tone was neutral but final. ‘Which won’t be at the pace you’ve grown accustomed to.’
His mother was doing her best to remain quiet, which was the condition under which she was allowed to attend the meeting.
The envoys exchanged a glance before Hadrik said, ‘We will convey your position to the imperial office.’ He adjusted the sleeve of his robe.
‘Though I must say, I am a little surprised by all this, especially given the state of your alliance with Avanid. I thought you would be falling over yourselves to keep your only trading partner happy.’
Tariq inclined his head. ‘You needn’t concern yourself with Gruisea’s relationship with Avanid. All you need to know is that we no longer intend to break our backs, or the backs of our children, for the benefit of others.’
Hadrik gave him the longest, darkest stare.
Then, nodding, he reached for a pomegranate seed and rolled it between his fingers.
‘Before we finish, the Emperor wanted me to once again express his condolences and despair at your father’s passing.
I pray you find comfort in the fact that nightbarrow is very effective. Quick and quiet—or so I have heard.’
Farrah stiffened, prompting Tariq to look at her. She sat utterly still, unblinking, her cup hovering in the air.
‘Apologies, Your Majesty,’ Hadrik said. ‘I should have thought before mentioning your late husband’s death. It must still be quite raw.’
Tariq’s gaze remained on his mother, noting the tension in her jaw and the way her hand had gone white around the stem of her cup.
What had he missed?
Farrah finally blinked, and that single motion seemed to bring her back to life. ‘Yes, nightbarrow is indeed effective.’
Then it hit him. Nightbarrow had never been mentioned. Certainly not to a foreign envoy. The man knew something he shouldn’t have.
Tariq sat back, watching the man through new eyes.
‘The fact that his murderer escaped Gruisea unscathed must be devastating to all of you,’ Hadrik continued. ‘Did you ever find out how she got out of the castle?’
It was clear by his arrogant expression that he already knew the answer to that.
‘We know she departed with her attendant’ was all Farrah said.
His mother had never asked Tariq directly if he had smuggled Aisha out of Gruisea, because like Hadrik, she also knew the answer.
Hadrik’s penetrating gaze shifted between the two of them. ‘Well, I think we have imposed enough on you for one day.’ He rose to his feet with a practised bow, the others following. ‘We thank you for your time, Your Majesties.’ Then to Tariq, ‘And we look forward to seeing the revised trade draft.’
Tariq got to his feet, inclining his head in place of a reply.
A few more courtesies were exchanged, then the men left, the heavy doors closing behind them.
Tariq’s eyes remained on the chamber doors as silence filled the room.
For a long moment, neither he nor his mother spoke.
When he finally turned to her, he noticed that her hands were clasped tightly in front of her.
He could almost see the threads forming in her mind behind that steady mask.
He struggled to ask the question. ‘Have the medical records been amended since we met with the council?’ he asked, already knowing the answer. ‘Because the report I saw made no mention of nightbarrow.’
Farrah dragged her gaze to his. ‘No.’
‘The report included a list of herbs in Lilah’s possession, but stated that the exact poison used couldn’t be identified, correct?’
She nodded. ‘Correct. There was no mention of nightbarrow.’
Tariq took an unsteady step back from her as all the pieces fell into place.
Aisha.
Her face flashed in his mind. Her expression when she had confessed, delivering the lie with such conviction. She had truly come prepared.
He swallowed, finding the inside of his mouth dry. ‘I knew she didn’t do it,’ he whispered. He had felt it all along, but he hadn’t been able to do a damn thing about it. Now his mother knew it too. Grief and fury stirred in her eyes.
‘I have to go,’ he said, heading for the chamber door.
His mother didn’t try to stop him.
Outside, Kaidon straightened, watched him march by, then jogged to catch up with him. ‘That bad, huh?’
The corridors of the palace were quieter than usual, but Tariq walked as if he were being chased.
Kaidon fell into step beside him, reading his mood. ‘What the hell happened in there that has you in such a state?’
‘I want you to find out everything you can about the herb nightbarrow,’ Tariq said without preamble. ‘Every known use. Every known source. Who handles it.’
‘Understood. Am I permitted to ask why?’
Tariq stopped at the doors to his private quarters, a hand pressed to the carved wood. ‘She didn’t do it.’
‘Who didn’t do what?’
He took a few painful breaths before looking at him. ‘Aisha didn’t kill my father.’
Pity flashed on Kaidon’s face. He stepped back from the door. ‘I’ll bring you everything I find.’
It was late in the afternoon when the knock came at Tariq’s door. He rose from behind his desk, where he had been trying to work since the meeting—and failing. ‘Come in.’
Kaidon entered, looking windblown and still in his riding cloak.
‘Well?’ Tariq asked.
The guard closed the door behind him before launching into his findings. ‘It’s indigenous to the highlands of Slevaborg. We don’t grow it here, and trade was banned nearly forty years ago. Even on the black market, it’s rare.’
Tariq leaned on the desk, waiting for him to continue.
‘If someone wanted to smuggle it in, they’d have to know how to dry it properly first. It rots within hours unless treated using a very specific process.’
The tips of Tariq’s fingers pressed against the table. ‘What sort of process?’
‘That’s the interesting part.’ Kaidon walked closer. ‘No one knows. The method’s kept by the imperial alchemists in Slevaborg.’
Tariq’s mind raced. ‘Then it’s highly unlikely that Aisha or her sisters would have access to the herb or know how to process it if they did.’
‘Slevaborg alchemists sharing their secrets with covenweavers? It would never happen,’ Kaidon said.
Tariq exhaled, slow and steady. The relief was as heavy as all the lies. But then the anger hit. The Emperor had found a way to kill his father, destroyed his marriage, and severed their alliance with Avanid, all without blame or consequence.
‘I gather from all this that the delegates knew things about your father’s death they shouldn’t have,’ Kaidon said.
Tariq closed his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them again, his vision sharpened. ‘We were duped.’
Kaidon crossed his arms with a sigh. ‘So what are you going to do about it?’
‘Stop playing the Emperor’s game.’ He straightened. ‘Halt all trade with Slevaborg, effective immediately.’
Kaidon appeared taken aback by this. ‘What?’
‘You heard me.’
‘That will be viewed as an act of open defiance.’
‘That’s exactly what it is.’ Tariq knew it would send shock waves through the empire, but he didn’t care.
He moved around his desk and sat on the edge of it.
‘Let him feel it. Let the whole empire feel it.’ His mind was no longer heavy with doubt, but with something far more dangerous: resolve.
‘Fetch the scribe. I have some messages to deliver.’